Who Can Own the Stars?
Mackey Chandler
Twelfth book in the April series
Cover by Sarah Hoyt

Chapter 1
It might make sense to build this way, Irwin Hall thought. What it lacked was the lovely vision presented in completed architectural renderings with props like attending spaceships and suited figures to give one a sense of scale. The hub of Beta hung there as attractive as a length of pipe with holes hacked in it. There wasn’t anything to show why it was worth thousands of solars to get to this point. It wasn’t even rotating yet to at least display some action for a video. At this distance, the dots of workers might be mistaken for rivets by Earthies unaware rivets were an anachronism rarely seen now except in cartoons.
That’s why Irwin hadn’t exactly prohibited real-time pix of the floating hunk of junk before him but had always shown his investors the future end product in promotional documents. Showing the reality of what they had now would be like using the bare chassis and suspension points of a ground car in an advertising brochure. The only people who would appreciate those unadorned sorts of technical details were the kind of fans and enthusiasts who didn’t need to be sold on the idea at all.
“We’ll be closing off those big openings,” Eddie said. “Two will get spokes extended right away, and two will have temporary bulkheads put over them until we need to put spokes on them. That will be right before we finish running the full first ring around.”
“When you cover them up paint the temporary plate a contrasting color,” Irwin said.
“Why?” Eddie demanded. “Pigments are cheap, but the organic carrier and binders will be a couple of hundred bits wasted to no purpose. It will have to be burned off to salvage the plate. It’s kind of obvious where they go. The stress reducing radius sticks out around the opening already.”
“It’s obvious to you. I want it to be obvious to somebody who knows nothing about aerospace architecture and may have a hard time finding three brain cells that can hold hands and work together. Be glad I’m not asking you to outline them in a dashed line and print - CUT HERE TO ATTACH SPOKE – in letters three-meters high. When an Earthie investor looks at it, I want them to be able to immediately see where the spokes are going to attach,” Irwin said. “It’s marketing.”
Eddie had to smile, thinking how silly that would be to do, but he stopped arguing. “Do you want to go over and look around inside? There isn’t much there yet but decks and some bulkheads with no hatches mounted,” Eddie said to him.
“No, a construction zone is hazardous. I might create risk not just for me but to others by being in the area and disrupting their routines.”
“Why did you come over then?” Eddie asked. “I could have sent you a view off my helmet cam that would show everything you are seeing from here.”
“Because now I can write an update to the investors that starts: ‘I was at the Beta site today, watching work progress.’ It makes them think I am right on top of things exercising due diligence, not just reading reports from some project manager who might be self-serving.”
When Eddie looked at him funny, he explained. “That is no reflection on you, Eddie. On Earth, it’s simply what you would have to do at a construction site to make sure you weren’t being cheated. You have to have guys on site watching to see that they put the required rebar in the forms and sampling the concrete to make sure they didn’t skimp on the mix. It makes sense to investors in an Earth context.”
“Better you than me,” Eddie said. Irwin knew exactly what he meant.
* * *
In northern California, spring was starting to assert itself. The snow-cover still came down to the edge of the creek but there were trickles of water running out from under the snow all along the bank. The snow wasn’t the fluffy white of newly fallen snow but the grainy gray ice of old snow compacted by the sun and a few days already above freezing.
Vic pulled on the long handle of a wood splitter while Alice turned the stove length section of the log under the wedge so each pull broke off a new piece of wood. Alice could push the sawn sections around once they were standing on end on the platen but they were too heavy for her to manhandle from the pile. Vic rolled them over and stood them on end for her. They could afford to be a little more liberal with the wood now because they could see they had more than enough for the season. Vic split the last piece in two and stopped
He stood straight and stretched, and turning his hips, looking around and listening. Not from fatigue but from habitual caution. He didn’t think the roads were clear enough to travel very far yet but when they were, bandits would be a danger again.
The creek was free of surface ice and flowing so heavily you could hear it clear to the house now. There was no motion on the hillsides when Vic gave them a scan, but he was staring at the sky now. There was thin contrail being drawn across the clear sky toward the north-northwest. It was far too high to see the plane making it or hear its engines. It abruptly made a wide turn sunlight flashing off a flat surface to make the plane briefly visible. Then it started back the way it came. It was aimed, however, slightly to the west instead of parallel. After thinking about it, Vic had to remind himself the wind so high up might be carrying the exhaust trail away to the east.
He looked to the north to see if anything could be seen approaching to make the jet turn back. He shaded his eyes but couldn’t find anything. The plane could see well over the horizon from that altitude with sensors far better than his eyes. It could probably see well into Oregon. Or maybe that was just as far as it was assigned to patrol. There was no way for him to tell if the plane was North American out of San Diego, Texan out of Arizona, or even a Mexican aircraft, boldly bypassing San Diego to test the North Americans and the Texans.
The news from the satellite phone told them Texas and North America were involved in a pushing contest to the south of them. The Texans were reported to have shoved a wedge of occupation across New Mexico and Arizona blocking North America from its Mexican territory. So far Southern California seemed to be more than either wanted to deal with. The North Americans still held the military base at San Diego and had cleared a buffer zone around it where civilians had mostly abandoned the territory. They had their own desalinization plant and power. The news didn’t detail things sufficiently to know whose plane that might be and Vic took everything they reported with appropriate skepticism.
Mexico was reported to have purged a lot of Yankee officers from the military. The rumors were that North America had removed all their nuclear weapons without Mexican opposition and several bases were now all but abandoned. Similarly, the Mexicans had withdrawn their police and ceded a lot of territory to Texas. But no formal declaration was issued. They hadn’t backed off on the California side at all. The official border lines on the old maps might not mean much right now and they could change again before they settled down.
Texas still didn’t have any port or port rights on the Pacific, and neither Mexico nor Hawaii were welcoming them in with open arms. However, they were both pursuing trade. The news gave no clue, but what had Vancouver more worried than their Mexican bases not replying to email or radio messages was that people on both sides of the Texas-Mexico border were taking Texas dollars at par with North American dollars. For now, the Texan held USNA dollars were being stamped with a bright gold eagle and serpent that was a simplified Mexican coat of arms any time they were brought to a bank.
North America had pointedly not outlawed private use of the defaced notes, but it was allowed to leak by back-channel means that North American banks wouldn’t take the marked bills for deposit. More ominously, the popular Mexican soft drink Jarritos was suddenly available again in Texas stores with no big fanfare or announcements. Dallas based ten-and-twenty-dollar stores and Texan gas stations suddenly appeared in ceded Mexican territory happy to take anybody’s money. The border, wherever it was now, was open to trade.
Vic and Eileen had some idea of what was going on, but not the full picture by any means. Even owning a satellite phone, the news reports they watched were often conflicting. Alice couldn’t see why they cared. It didn’t change how much wood had to be split or clothing washed. Their interest in the Spacers and what was happening on the habitats and the Moon seemed even less pertinent to daily life.
* * *
Heather hadn’t expected a call from the Martian Republic’s Nathan DeWalt so soon. Their fundraiser and de facto consul to Europe had to know they couldn’t have designed and fabricated the machines they wanted in trade so soon. Quick fabricating had made huge advances, but there were limits. After all, a human mind had to create the template before the machines got the instructions to make it. Perhaps you could just modify an existing design for something like a golf cart, but a machine to extract moisture from Martian soils couldn’t just be tacked on a golf cart chassis if you wanted an efficient, lasting design.
The last time Heather spoke with DeWalt he’d gone to the extreme trouble and expense of coming from Earth to her court for a personal chat. Apparently, nothing he wanted to say this time was so sensitive he needed to leave Brussels.
“Well hello, Nathan. Are you able to speak in the clear today?” Heather asked.
“Not in the clear,” his eyes flicked to their connection status to make sure she didn’t mean that literally. “I don’t trust normal encryption to be sufficient for our business. I can make arrangements without repeating the details of our previous meeting and agreements if that’s acceptable.”
“Sure, we can speak in generalities,” Heather agreed. “But you want something or you wouldn’t be calling at all. If you will, get right to it, and I’ll tell you yea or nay.”
DeWalt looked stressed. He was used to beating around the bush with Europeans for a couple of hours before revealing what was on his mind. Spacers had no respect for diplomatic niceties.
“My superiors have made a list of those who they are certain they want to send back to Earth. The sooner we can start transferring them the better for easing the burden on our supply and environmental systems. Would it be too burdensome to have a pickup and transfer before you make delivery on some of those items we requested?”
“I don’t see why not. We just made some modifications to another vessel we need to fly overwatch on the pickup vehicle. It needs to be tested anyway, and the crew for both vessels just returned from R&R yesterday.”
That detail was somewhat disingenuous, they didn’t intend to let paid crew command this mission. To tell the Martians that, however, was a needless risk. It was true enough to not trigger any huge deviation in the veracity software.
“Let me check on something,” she said.
Heather split the screen and called up Jeff who would be the one flying on the mission.
“Jeff, how many Martians can fit in the hold of Dionysus’ Chariot to transfer them from Mars to ISSII?”
Jeff smiled and was tempted to ask, ‘Dead or alive?’ But he decided to play it straight. He’d grown socially now to where he understood fanatics had little use for humor.
“The hold is a bit less than five meters in diameter. I can fit a hatch on the hold opening with a coffin lock in a half hour. Or, if everyone is suited-up I’m pretty sure we could fit fifteen flat on their backs on a deck pad. If they don’t mind standing, I can hold down my acceleration to not much more than a standard g and fit twenty-five easily. They will have to be pretty friendly and not mind standing closely. That’s assuming they aren’t idiots and are cooperating, not pushing or panicking.”
“How long would they have to stand crowded together in there?” DeWalt wondered.
“About a half-hour plus loading time,” Jeff said. “I can just open the freight hatch on Mars. They can run on suit air that long. No need to pressurize and pump it down.”
“Couldn’t you attach to a boarding tube and board them in shirt sleeves?” DeWalt asked.
“No, I’d never agree to attach to Martian infrastructure. Even if I could take off anyway and just rip the tube off the ship it would be hard to keep track of what was happening outside and stay safe. We’ll have a ship overhead. If you captured our vessel it would reduce the ship and your entire complex to a glowing crater, but I’m not a hundred percent sure you are capable of believing that and might not try to capture our vessel. I’ll set down clear of any of your structures by at least a hundred meters.”
“You have a very poor opinion of us,” DeWalt complained.
“Just because we are doing business with you do not delude yourselves that we don’t regard you as killers. Worse, you are ideologues, and they are the most dangerous people, willing to kill for their favorite ideology as a good thing,” Jeff said. “Every government must be willing to kill to exist. If they won’t do so they cease to exist quickly enough. It’s just that some do so reluctantly, and some positively glory in it. If you’d consider killing your own, how much easier on whatever you use for a conscience to dispose of us?”
“And you won’t?” DeWalt sneered. “At your Queen’s court and she is so afraid of her subjects she holds court with her pistol on the table beside her.”
“You mistake its purpose,” Heather said. She didn’t look angry, she looked amused. “It is there to remind them it is a court of no appeal. They are putting their life on the line to bring any matter before me no matter how minor it seems to them.”
‘Have you ever shot a supplicant dead?” DeWalt challenged.
“No, but I’ve tossed a coin to opponents with an issue and invited them to flip it to decide who I’d shoot dead to resolve it. They declined and withdrew. If you had examined Central’s history you would know I’ve shot my share, just with a 57mm Bofors instead of a silly little pistol. Stop asking stupid questions and address practical matters,” Heather demanded.
“It’s just that’s a lot of pressure suits to lose when maintenance is such a critical issue,” DeWalt said. “Spares and parts for suits are as short as other supplies.”
Jeff shrugged. “So we’ll bring them back next trip.”
“Oh, I never thought of that,” he admitted.
Heather and Jeff kindly didn’t comment on that.
“Let me make one thing clear,” Jeff demanded. “I’m not transporting prisoners. If you have to drag anybody to the ship in restraints, I won’t take them. We’ll transport them to ISSII and they can repatriate anywhere they want from there. We’re not paying for the drop to Earth and if anyone wants to come to Home or Central, we’re coming back here anyhow.”
“Twenty-five suited personnel?” DeWalt asked.
“Have a few extra ready and if they can squeeze them in, we’ll take them,” Jeff offered.
“As many as you can fit in, after the first device we are trading for is loaded in the hold,” Heather interjected. “Crate it up nicely and somebody can sit on it,” she suggested.
“Of course,” DeWalt agreed. As if he had any choice.
* * *
Alice wasn’t exactly adopted. The Foys were de facto parents to her but that had no legal basis. Neither did it have the sanction of the community. Most of their far-flung rural community wouldn’t know she was part of their household until they took her to the Spring Festival Mr. Mast sponsored. Then there was the fact Vic promised her she could leave with her possessions whenever she wanted, so Alice was at least somewhat emancipated. She could walk out the door if she found the Foy’s household rules intolerable.
There were no government run offices of child welfare now and if one wanted to foster a child no state funded reward for doing so. Life was hard enough again that people had enough on their plate taking care of their own. Fostering orphans suddenly lost a lot of its allure without any monetary support. The adoption of orphans had reverted to the same casual level with which previous generations had parceled out a fresh batch of kittens.
Neither Vic nor Eileen expected anyone to object to their continued volunteer care of Alice. She’d assured them she had no living relatives closer than St. Louis. She knew her mom had relatives there but couldn’t name them. Eileen expected Alice would object to leaving them to try a different family if it was suggested, simply because she’d already escaped one abusive situation and would be afraid of finding herself right back in those circumstances.
Alice used to live with her parents on the road that ran from their house to Mast’s Festival grounds and on to O’Neil’s general store and private grass-strip airport. When her parents died during the previous winter, she’d had little choice but to go to the nearest occupied home to ask help. The fact the Olsens then came and stripped everything of value from the house wasn’t a problem. Salvaging was expected since The Day and wasn’t regarded as looting.
What was unforgivable was they didn’t take Alice in as one of the family or credit her as having a stake with them for all her family goods they took. They hid the fact they were holding her by keeping her at home under guard while other Olsens went to the Festivals to trade. Not a word was said they had a young girl at home now, which was damning. There wasn’t any way to avoid concluding she was a literal slave.
The Olsens plotted to kill Eileen and Vic on their return trip after they’d passed the Olsen’s home on Mr. Mast’s borrowed motorbike. Planning it in front of Alice, they never imagined she would run away and stop the Foys on the road to save their lives and escape.
Alice described a household reverted a thousand years in civilization to subsistence living and a general lack of hygiene due to sheer laziness. When Alice joined them, she was malnourished and terribly thin. She was filling out now and looking healthier. Eileen was thankful they’d rescued each other. She was pretty sure if they had delayed a year the Olsen’s abuse of Alice would have been much worse. Alice left no doubt of their intentions saying they spoke of it openly with crude humor.
What they had already done was sufficient banditry that Mr. Mast indicated he was going to organize a raid on the Olsens and remove them as a hazard to traveling one of the more important roads for their community. Eileen was worried about when this would happen. If they hadn’t moved against the family before the Spring Festival there would likely be some Olsens attending. They could hardly show up with Alice in tow. That would expose that they knew everything about their criminal intentions and might precipitate a fight right at the Festival.
Vic calmly pointed out that there was no way to find out Mr. Mast’s intentions. The radio net would pass messages, but if you wanted a coded message passed you had to pass it to the radio manager ahead of time. They couldn’t do that snowed in. Vic seemed to have the ability to put things he couldn’t change out of mind until they resolved. Eileen wasn’t able to do that yet. She was quite a bit younger than him and it was a talent she had yet to acquire.
If the roads cleared far enough ahead of the Festival to contact Mr. Mast then Vic would probably be called to go on the raid. If not, they might have to leave Alice with a house sitter and keep her presence with them secret. Alice wouldn’t be happy about that at all.
* * *
April was in command of Dionysus’ Chariot, the vessel that would land on the Martian field and load both their fee in artifacts for removing their excess personnel, and as many of the unwanted Martians as could jam in their freight hold. Heather’s man Johnson was her copilot. He was only recently certified for landers, but had a year of orbit to orbit qualification. Indeed, he had yet to be qualified on the jump capable ship, but it would be worth the trouble train him in her estimation. He was eager as well and considered it another adventure. April didn’t pick him for his experience but because he was fearless and unflappable. His reputation in that regard dated clear back to driving rovers when Central was established. She didn’t want anyone safe and timid sitting beside her when things might go bad and require decisive responses.
Once they landed, the pilots would have to stay at their boards for security. April recruited her bodyguard Gunny Mack Tindal and fellow security pro Christian Mackay to deal with the Martians on their landing field, keeping them safe while loading their cargo and passengers. They rushed to join the team on the Moon from Home.
Jeff was in command of the exploration ship Hringhorni, that wasn’t capable of safely landing in Martian gravity. It would maintain an armed overwatch on the loading. He had Deloris, their most experienced pilot, sitting as his second.
“Who decided this arrangement?” Heather demanded when told their plans.
“I asked Jeff to do it that way,” April said.
“Why?” she pushed, uncomfortable now with what she’d started. Heather didn’t like either of them landing, yet saw the necessity of it. There are some things you should do yourself rather than trust to hirelings.
“Well, the whole idea is if they try to take our ship the attending vessel will reduce their complex to vapor. Jeff and I were talking it over and decided if that happened, we should also take out all their buildings at the alien wreck site, being careful not to destroy the ship itself,” April revealed.
“Why did you tack that on?” Heather asked.
“Jeff pointed out that they are basically a cult. They assume humanity will go crazy and act stupidly if they reveal there are aliens. He provided me with some examples of cults that engaged in self-destructive acts when they experienced outside intervention. He was afraid they’d try to destroy the wreck and cover up its existence. If they try to fool us on this pickup there’s no safe way to engage with them further. Indeed, those out at the wreck are the worst of the true believers. They made it clear that the ones we are picking up have never been inducted into their secrets.”
“OK, I can see that,” Heather agreed, “but back to the first question. Why are you assigned the landing and Jeff is the one above threatening to destroy the site?”
“Look at it this way. Which one of us do you think the Martians are more likely to believe would pull the trigger on destroying them and maybe our own ship?”
“Oh, the Butcher of Jiuquan for sure. I’m with you on that now,” Heather agreed.
* * *
“Do you know?” Irwin asked his right-hand man, Dan Prescott. “When the North Americans arrested me and April forced them to release me, only to have the Europeans arrest me next, I figured my whole fundraising project was doomed.
“I was absolutely sure it needed my face to face presence to close the sort of deals that no executive would want to do over video com. I only reluctantly gave up doing it that way because it finally became obvious it isn’t safe for a Spacer to visit Earth anymore.
“What I had no idea about, absolutely zero clue, was that many of the executives open to investing in a space venture harbored a secret desire to visit the habitats or the Moon themselves.”
“As long as the corporation is paying for the ticket and accommodations,” Dan said.
“Well sure, but that’s always been true,” Irwin said. “Corporations didn’t schedule meetings in Hawaii because of its central location and cheap room rates. Business meetings were always a way to have a nice vacation on the company tab. Of course, rebelling from North America and being sanctioned finished off their tourist industry. The truth of the matter is that the tourist trade was already in a sustained decline with the mainland economy cratering. Their rebellion would have never taken off if tourism had remained strong and jobs plentiful. Lots of people, even some island-born, had already gone to the mainland to survive.”
“I’ve only seen six or seven people come in the bank to discuss Beta with you. Are there others of whom I’m not aware?” Dan wondered.
“No, but those few have been quite sufficient to add substantial funding. The people who came up have multi-billion-dollar discretionary funds. Indeed, it has turned out to be an excellent filter to determine who is worth cultivating as investors. The lady from the State Bank of Germany was able to transfer euromarks to Russia and have them send us a mix of platinum and gold. The Australian Central bank was able to deliver gold directly. I got a very nice deal from Iceland that they paid in heavy water, and a Japanese bank bought in that I suspect was fronting for a Canadian bank.”
Don looked amused. “They weren’t put off by how cramped everything is and that they won’t find a wine list with hundreds of choices in the clubs?”
“I took the German lady to the Quiet Retreat the first evening she was here. The next morning she went to the cafeteria on her own for breakfast. That evening she insisted on going back to the cafeteria and turned down being my guest at the Fox and Hare. She then decided to go on to the Moon because she expected Home to be the wild frontier and was a little disappointed how civilized it turned out to be. She heard the Moon is much rougher and less ‘touristy’ so she went there to experience it.”
“She’s probably the sort of eco-tourist who pays to go sleep in a yurt and ride a pony around back home,” Dan said. “I’ll take a soft adjustable bed and room service any day.”
“Indeed. If you get brave, Cuba was a wonderful place to visit,” Irwin said.
“No thank you. Your experience getting thrown in jail twice in two jurisdictions didn’t do a lot to promote the Earthie tourist trade to me,” Dan said.
“Yes, well I’m not saying I’ll never go down again. But a lot would have to change, and I think I would make it a single destination visit, staying in a country where I can take a shuttle there directly and leave the same way.”
“Tonga possibly,” Dan allowed. “Australia or Hawaii… maybe,” he allowed.
“Jeff does occasional cargo runs to Hawaii,” Irwin pointed out. “I’m pretty sure he’d take passengers.”
“Things there aren’t settled enough for me, yet,” Dan said. “By the time they are I may have other choices, Texas even.”
Irwin raised his eyebrows at that. It didn’t seem very likely to him.
* * *
“Mo, how are things going for Dr. Holbrook’s new lab?” Heather asked via com. “Does he have at least one room ready to safely house an object?”
Mo looked a bit ragged. Heather hoped he wasn’t getting sick. With little physical traffic between Central and Armstrong, they didn’t import much disease. They had mandatory touch-pads that checked for organisms now at the entries. They had even less physical contact with Earth through Armstrong or Home, which was just fine with her. Earth was a Petri dish.
“He has two of the labs that can safely store your artifacts, but they have a ways to go to be equipped to actually study them. I have a foreman in place supervising and just read his end of the day summary, but it seems to be going smoothly. I’m trying to make sure all my projects are capable of being run if I’m not available,” Mo said.
Heather felt a jolt of alarm and looked at Mo closer. She depended on him heavily.
“Mo, are you sick? Have I been piling too much work on you? If you need some care or I need to make some adjustments, speak up. I sort of assumed I can just keep piling the load on and people will tell me when it simply is impossible to do.”
“The work is not a problem. I love the work. I’m not one of those people who can’t delegate and has to micromanage everything. I’m just not sure I can live on the same planet with my ex.”
Heather decided this was probably not the time to debate which were moons versus planetary bodies.
“I told her she can’t work in the same areas you commonly do,” Heather remembered. “She was forbidden from actually beating on your door to demand you speak to her. I distinctly remember telling her not to use chance meetings like at the cafeteria to harass you with unscheduled meetings when you are just trying to enjoy dinner. I think I only left her text messages as a way to contact you.”
“Yes, and I don’t feel I can complain about that. We do have children in common and our finances and history are forever entwined. But she tends to leave me forty or fifty text messages a day. She also tends to go on and on repeating things for emphasis and telling me how she feels about the issues she brings up. I don’t have time to read that many messages and understand them. Especially when I can read some of them two or three times and still not understand her point or what, if anything, she wants me to do.”
“I should have said the text privilege had to be used reasonably,” Heather said.
Mo shook his head emphatically.
“You’d have to define ‘reasonable’ and I doubt you could do so in a way she would understand. She has all these feelings but no gut feeling at all for where the limits of reasonableness are. Even if you defined specific metrics. If you said she must not send more than six messages a day they would all six become novellas. Trying to define anything as abstract as purposefulness would be pointless. She just doesn’t think that way. And I doubt it is something you can teach an adult whose mindset is so far from it.”
“She’s mentally ill, isn’t she?” Heather said. “Why didn’t I see that?”
“I doubt you could find a psychologist willing to say she is clinically deranged. If she is, then they’d have to define a huge chunk of the population as insane. She doesn’t have visual or auditory hallucinations, as far as I know. She doesn’t present with odd facial tics or repetitive or compulsive gestures. She doesn’t even have wide mood swings with manic days and down days. Socially, she presents so well to others that anyone who deals with her on a day to day basis would be surprised I have any problem with her. If they didn’t know me, it would be entirely reasonable for them to believe I must be the problem in our relationship, because she treats them just fine. Yet for all of that, we do not inhabit the same reality at all.”
“Just to help me understand, what can she possibly need to speak to you about, forty or fifty times a day?” Heather had a sudden insight. “And how can she possibly do a job and take care of all the things in her own life while composing and sending you that many messages a day?”
“Here, please, take a look,” Mo invited. He opened his phone to Linda’s messages scrolled back and forwarded the last week of them to her. “Start with a week ago or just jump in the middle anywhere if you don’t want to read that much. You’ll see.”
Heather looked at the icon that appeared on her screen. “You’re sure you want me to see this private stuff? It isn’t betraying any confidence with her?” Heather asked.
“I’ve never been told any of it is confidential or was sworn to secrecy. Look please,” Mo pleaded.
Heather meant to read a sentence or two. It was five minutes before she looked up and said, “Oh wow. I’m still on the first day.” She shook her head and continued to read.
“I didn’t expect this. It’s mostly about your kids, not you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use the word nefarious in casual speech.”
“She took a minor in literature,” Mo said.
“And giving you a separate work number would be meaningless,” Heather said, thinking aloud.
“You’re starting to understand. If I go back to Home, I’d block her entirely on a new phone.”
“Why have you put up with this?” Heather asked.
“Out of respect for your judgment and the fact it would be entirely proper for her to contact me about reasonable concerns with our children,” Mo said.
“My judgment obviously stinks and isn’t working,” Heather said. “It seems to me both your children are effectively emancipated and with good mentors, even if Eric hasn’t had his majority voted. She seems to feel he makes too much money. Why is that a complaint?”
“Eric refuses to detail what he does to her, so she assumes it must be illicit. He assumes she would interfere with his businesses, and I think he’s right. He’s involved in some things like a lottery, I know she would disapprove. But it isn’t illegal on Home.”
“Nothing much is,” Heather acknowledged. “I can almost sympathize with that. I came very close to outlawing gambling in my kingdom. The compulsive gambling mindset is as bad as any other addiction. But April and Jeff keep reminding me you can’t legislate morality. Not successfully anyhow.”
“Lindsey is doing fine too,” Mo said. “She has work she enjoys and it sells very well. Linda never respected it until she found out how much money it was worth. Then she tried to steal it. But she still has her mom blocked on her phone and that really rankles Linda.”
Heather thought about it a little. Mo stared right back at her on the screen. He wasn’t the sort to try to sneak a peek at other things if you didn’t keep babbling. He had too much respect for her.
“It wouldn’t do a thing to go back to Home,” Heather decided. “She followed you here. She’d just follow you right back to Home,” she predicted.
Mo looked distressed, but he didn’t contradict her at all.
“I’m going to expel her,” Heather decided. “She’s damaging you. She’s damaging me and everyone else who depends on you and that’s a lot of us.”
“I haven’t brought a complaint,” Mo pointed out.
“You don’t have to,” Heather assured him. “I’m the complainant, even if you are the principal damaged party. You have been entirely too nice about this for too long.”
“May I come to your court?” Mo requested. “Linda will feel this is from me no matter what you say. I’d rather be there and let her have her say if she wants to chastise me. If I don’t, she’ll assume I’m hiding and afraid to confront her. If I’m not there, she will slander me over it forever wherever she goes. She’ll probably start couriering me physical notes.”
“Of course, my court is always open to the public. I’ll serve her notice to appear this Sunday,” Heather said.

Chapter 2
Phobos was used as a natural space station by the Martians. They’d even mounted an ion drive to convert loose surface debris to reaction mass to stop its slow orbital decay. The original transport ship built by the European Union was the Sandman. It was an orbit to orbit deep space vehicle only, dedicated to the Martian run. Indeed, its Delta V and the endurance of its environmental systems were so design specific it would be cheaper to build new than to try to alter it to visit any other body in the Solar System. It was totally incapable of being altered to be a lander.
Upon declaring their independence, the Martians quickly militarized Phobos by installing improvised weaponry. Any invasion from Earth would have to stage through the moon unless they carried their own landing shuttles to Mars. With the present technology that was a burden that made it much more difficult to attempt a Martian invasion. It wasn’t any exotic system guarding Phobos, just a couple large shotgun analogs. That was quite sufficient to guard against the current generation of interplanetary ships.
Dionysus’ Chariot had no need of Phobos to dock or drop to the Martian surface. Nevertheless, both the ships appeared near the moon and painted it with their separate radars. Jeff and April didn’t want anyone to doubt there really was a second ship in orbit watching over their lander, not just a bluff.
“Phobos Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot. We are proceeding to a landing at your surface facility. Please hold any traffic with the field while we are engaged in picking up passengers. Our sister ship, the explorer Hringhorni is going to assume an areostationary orbit to watch over our landing. They are charged to destroy any inbound traffic while we are on the ground. If there is any attempt to capture our ship, they are also charged with the duty of destroying the vessel to prevent its capture. That would of necessity include all surface installation in its vicinity. Please tightly control any movements that might be misunderstood,” April requested.
“Dionysus’ Chariot, we were advised to expect your arrival and no shuttle traffic is presently in Mars orbit or scheduled to descend to the surface for two days. You are free to safely maneuver as you will. Dirtside is advised by relay satellite that you have arrived and will be descending.”
“Thank you, Phobos Control. Leaving your immediate control volume now.”
Both ships left the way they arrived. That is, one second, they were there, and the next instant they were gone with a slight burst of radio static and less obvious radiation. Simultaneously, there was a slight thump felt, as if someone had stomped on the deck out in the corridor.
“That’s some seriously spooky shit,” the lead controller told his flunky.
* * *
“Yoooah! Heads up! You have company!”
Mr. Mast was normally so softly spoken it was strange to hear him bellow so, but his voice was distinctive. It was common sense and courtesy to announce yourself plainly now. Anyone sneaking up on an occupied house was asking to be shot.
Vic didn’t bother to arm himself. He went out on the porch and just waved Mast up to the house. There was another mounted man with him and one on foot. If they were with Mast, they were OK.
“Eileen, would you please take Alice in the kitchen and keep her out of sight until I see what Mast and these other guys want?” Vic thought he knew but wanted to hear it first.
The man on foot was identifiable as his neighbor Arnold when they got closer to the house. The other man on a horse Vic didn’t know. Vic scanned in the distance all around until they tied their horses up.
“Come on in. I have some herbal tea that isn’t half bad if you’d like some to warm up.”
“That would be welcome. This is Arlo Ritner,” Mast introduced the new man. He was compact and wore a serious expression. “Arlo is ex-military and was in law enforcement in the neighboring county before The Day.”
“Eileen, set some tea to brewing, please,” Vic called to the kitchen.
“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Eileen promised.
“What do you do now?” Vic asked Arlo.
“Pretty much the same. It’s just a matter of who pays and how we deal with the fact we have no functioning judicial system, also, how far I range. It seems like another life when I used to commute every day to work. The same distance is a hard-two-day trip now. I’m operating closer to the model of a bounty hunter in the old west than a modern deputy. Some of it pays very well, some of it is pro bono because it just needs to be done,” Arlo said, with an expansive ‘What are you going to do?’ gesture.
“Nobody at the courthouse?” Vic asked.
“The first week after The Day somebody torched the courthouse rather thoroughly with particular attention to all the records. If there were backups they probably were in the city and lost on The Day. It makes you wonder what somebody wanted to be covered up, or if they think they can somehow profit from it. I tried to track down a judge. One judge informed me he is now a gentleman farmer with no interest in serving unpaid, and the other judge’s home is empty. It appears to have been looted for the common stuff like food.”
“The Day might have caught him away from home. We’ve seen a lot of that. More so the places that were vacation homes,” Vic said. “Nobody objects to reasonable salvage. I do object to the fact some folks seemed to feel obligated to burn a place down once it was empty. It’s spiteful and wasteful. Even the lumber has salvage value.”
“People don’t want squatters moving in,” Arlo said. “Some go a little overboard on it.”
“How do you get paid? Just in case I need your services,” Vic added, to show why it was any of his business.
“I’m protecting two horse farms and a couple of smaller places that don’t breed but they have their own mounts. Horse thieving is a problem again and they rotate seeing that I have a mount available when I need one, like today. Other folks pay in kind or three-way deals. I’m happy to accept actual day work as a favor extended to me others wouldn’t be offered,” Arlo said. “I’ve fixed fences and helped dig root cellars. It’s honest work.”
Vic nodded. “I’ll put in a word with folks I know who might hire you. May I assume you are in Mr. Mast’s hire today?”
“Yes, but I’m just being paid to consider a wider service. Call it an estimate if I’ll take the job. He wants to remove the Olsens as being a danger to the community. I’d need to hear a lot more about them to take such drastic action. We may not have a sitting judiciary and law right now, but we have to look to the day it is imposed on us again from outside. We may have to answer for our actions in its absence.”
“Or we may end up under a different authority, depending on how it goes between North America and the Texas Republic,” Vic said.
“That’s a possibility,” Arlo acknowledged. “We still would have to worry that folks who might have a grudge against us could accuse us of banditry.”
“What do you want to do to protect yourself?” Vic asked.
“Right now, I’d like to interview the girl you took in. From what Mast says, she is the sole source of accusations against the Olsens. I understand you never came in contact with them. I was told the girl stopped you on the road before you tried to go back past their place, and warned you that they intended to ambush you. Is that correct?”
“It is. We found her credible enough to avoid testing it. We took a long detour around the other side of the mountain to avoid them. It’s still a problem because we need to go back past to get to the chicken farmer we’re dealing with and to O’Neil’s. We have regular business with both of them. It’s too far to keep taking the long route to avoid them.
“This time, they wanted Mast’s motorbike when they heard it go past, but I’m still concerned it isn’t safe to pass them on foot. I’ll ask Alice if she is willing to speak to you. We haven’t pressed her to tell us everything that happened. It’s the sort of traumatic experience that can be disturbing to recount. I have to tell you, she looked a lot differently on the road. She was much thinner and dressed in literal rags with sneakers that were mostly duct tape.”
“If she’s willing, I’d like to not only interview her but write a transcript of it to protect us in the future. Sort of a deposition, as insurance for us.”
“Let me explain this to Alice, and ask her permission,” Vic said. “Be aware, we have not adopted her. I promised her she is free to leave, and take her things if she doesn’t care to stay with us. You should probably consider her an emancipated minor by the terms of our old law. Make yourselves comfortable,” he said, gesturing at the furniture, “I don’t think it will take long for her to say yes or no.”
Vic went in the kitchen and closed the door that had deliberately been left cracked open while they talked, so Eileen and Alice could hear.
“Could you hear that?” Vic asked Alice.
She nodded her head yes silently, but didn’t say anything.
“Are you able? Do you want to speak to them?” Vic asked.
“I don’t have to?” Alice asked in a soft voice.
“No, I meant what I said, that I’d ask you,” Vic assured her.
Alice thought about it a little bit.
“Can I talk to him with Eileen there?” Alice asked.
“He wants this as a record,” Vic explained, “so you’d have to tell it in front of everybody who will be witnesses to the document being accurate. I’m sorry if it’s hard with all the men.”
“Yeah, it is. If I do, I’ll feel responsible for what happens to the Olsens.”
“And if you don’t, you’ll be responsible if they ambush other people traveling along the road,” Vic pointed out. “No less because you won’t know who they were since you aren’t there now to hear them plan to ambush them. Sometimes there just aren’t any choices that are easy and make you feel good.”
“OK, bring them in, and let’s talk.”
“What do you want to know?” Alice asked Arlo after he was introduced.
“Alice, I’d rather not ask anything. If I ask questions people can accuse me of leading you to get the story I want to hear. They’ll say you could tell what I wanted to hear. I’d much rather you tell me the whole story of how you came to be with the Olsens right up until now. If I have to ask anything, I’ll do that at the end, about anything I don’t understand. I’ll ask the rest of you to do the same,” he said looking around.
“I sort of remember bits and pieces about living in the city a long time ago,” Alice started, “but then when my parents bought this house out in the country. I was unhappy to leave my school friends, but it is pretty here. I could play outside in our yard because it was safer.”
She talked for a long time before she caught up to recent events.
“Since there has been so much snow now for a while, we’ve been staying inside most of the time. I’ve started writing out this whole story. That’s why I’ve been able to tell it so well, because I’ve been organizing it and trying hard to remember stuff to write down.”
Nobody spoke to interrupt her and they weren’t sure she was done. They’d stayed silent even when she went off on tangents, recounting things they didn’t think were relevant.
“That’s it. I’m done,” Alice said when none of the adults said anything right away.
“Thank you. I’m sorry we made you cry a couple of times. I appreciate that had to be hard to say out loud. I want you to know I totally believe you. I’d also like you to make a list of everything you remember them taking from your parent’s house. Especially things you would like to recover for yourself.”
Arlo looked at the other men, in turn, frowning. “I totally believe Alice, but it still boils down to the fact it’s one person’s word on the matter. Others will doubt Alice, just based on how old she is, without ever meeting her or listening to her. I’m not willing to lead a raid on the Olsens without some additional evidence.”
“I’m not sure how we can get that sort of truth, realistically,” Vic said. “We don’t have the legal power to force them to testify or get a search warrant.”
“I would propose you bring Alice to the Spring festival. Let them see her there and gauge their reaction,” Arlo said. “If they act shocked to see her but solicitous and concerned, we’ve made a bad judgment. But if they act guilty or aggressive then their criminality is a self-indictment.”
Alice shuddered a little and looked scared. “I don’t think any of them are smart enough to put on an act of concern for me. They just act out however they feel without thinking.”
“Are O’Neil and this farmer in danger coming past them to the fair?” Arlo wondered.
“Probably not,” Alice said. “The house is set back and it’s hard to see much but the mailbox. They had others pass by who probably didn’t know anybody was living there and never planned to rob them. But when they heard the motorbike go past, they just went nuts. That was all they could talk about. They were obsessed with it.”
Vic frowned but didn’t contradict her. He didn’t trust them not to rob other travelers once they had the thought in mind and grew comfortable with it.
“If I go do this with you, can you keep me safe from them?” Alice demanded.
“Honey, I can keep you safe all by myself,” Arlo said. “You’ll have me and Vic and Mr. Mast all keeping an eye on you.”
“OK, but I still want to take my gun,” Alice insisted.
“You’d be a fool not to,” Arlo agreed.
* * *
Dionysus’ Chariot dropped well away from the extension of the Mars colony complex that poked out towards the landing field. Everything that could be was kept connected. The entire complex was one giant building with only a few smaller stand-alone buildings housing functions too dangerous to be attached to their living quarters. The fuel depot and the power plant were air-gapped, as were the rover garages. The farms were isolated to protect the plants rather than the people. Once a mold or plant disease took hold the only solution sometimes was to open the grow room to the atmosphere and kill everything. Many Martian workers never had any reason to go outside at all.
The sort of free hanging ladder the Chariot’s crew usually used was too dangerous for the sort of inexperienced inside workers they were boarding. Knowing some of these people probably hadn’t been in a suit in years they had a folding inclined stair like a ship’s ladder fabricated to reach the hold. In less than half a standard gravity it looked flimsy but had a good margin of strength built in. It telescoped both ways from a center section with tapered ends. The design was intended to support no more than two people at a time in Martian gravity. They’d leave it behind on the field since there wasn’t room for it in the hold once they had passengers.
As soon as they landed, April’s bodyguard Gunny and Christian Mackay went back, opened the cargo hold, and deployed the cargo crane. Gunny grabbed the hook and rode it down. He had a weapon hanging on a web harness and a carry case full of security instruments. Mackay stayed above to run the crane and keep an eye on Gunny from a better vantage.
There was a line of people coming out of a large vehicular lock, but nothing that looked like freight unless it was so small somebody was carrying it. The suited figure in the lead made a gesture for those behind him to stop but took a couple of quick steps closer to Gunny. Too close.
Gunny turned to his right and threw up a left hand, stiff-arming the man on his chest so hard he bounced off and had to take a step back or fall. That move positioned the gun hanging on his chest pointed at the fellow with his right hand on the grips.
“Don’t crowd my space young fellow. I’m not your buddy that we need to touch helmets to have a private word. You’re supposed to have a package to load first. Where is it?”
The man’s face was easily visible through the visor and he was enraged but controlled himself.
“It’s coming, that’s not my job this morning. I’m Lieutenant Hoffman and I was charged with preparing these evacuees. They were allowed one hand sack for personal items and checked for contraband. They have all had anti-nausea injections in anticipation of being in zero g. I can assure you none of them represents a hazard. Here is a hard copy manifest of your passengers in the order in which they are lined up. I understand they may not all fit.”
“Thanks,” Gunny said taking the stiff copy. “Keep them lined up to the side and the path clear for our load, please. When it is inspected and loaded, then my partner will lower the ladder and we can board them. You want to make sure they all know it’s no more than two at a time on the ladder. That means the top one has to be all the way off and in the hold before another passenger climbs on at the bottom.”
“I made sure they all have their radios on but I’ll stand at the bottom and regulate who gets on until we’ve fit as many as we can,” Hoffman promised.
“You aren’t coming along?” Gunny asked.
The young man looked even more offended at that remark than he already did at being pushed back. “Certainly not,” he said spitting the words out.
“Not a concern of mine,” Gunny agreed. “You do that then, feeding them to the ladder.”
“It’s not possible to start embarking before the shipment?” Hoffman asked.
“Not a chance. You didn’t short these guys on air so you need to hurry, did you? I’d take that as a very bad faith action intended to pressure us. I don’t pressure worth a damn. The owner told me not to be scared to walk away if you try any crap.”
“I assure you they all have a full six-hour charge in their tanks,” Hoffman said.
“That’s good. A friend of mine had a little problem with his tank maintenance here. You don’t forget a thing like that,” Gunny said.
His utter lack of any reaction told Gunny that Lieutenant Hoffman knew the story of how April’s grandfather had his suit tanks sabotaged when they were trying to kill him.
April spoke to Gunny on a private channel.
“If I recall you, don’t say anything, just turn and grab the hook and Mackay will lift you. I’ll bring the engine up to an idle if I need to do that, not enough to lift us, just enough to make them all head back for shelter.”
Word must have been passed inside that everything was on hold until the cargo was produced. A suited figure appeared pushing a relatively small box on a cart. It was a standard hard-shell shipping container, smaller than a lot of suitcases. It had a web strap to grab with the crane hook and nothing about it would confuse the sensors they brought.
“You might want to take a few steps back,” Gunny suggested to the cart pusher. “I’m going to x-ray it and do a neutron back-scatter scan. No point in absorbing anything you don’t need to.”
The fellow was more than happy to comply.
Gunny got a pistol-like instrument from his case and pointed it at the box and triggered it. He repeated that aiming across from corner to corner both ways.
“Well, it’s not a bomb,” he said. “That’s always encouraging. I doubt that you fellows have the facilities to make one that a neutron back-scatter couldn’t ID.
Putting that away, Gunny got a point receiver and sat it on the far side of the box from him. He got another pistol-shaped device, this one an x-ray emitter. He swept back and forth always pointing through the box at the receiver on the other side. The device built up an image in his helmet display. A few areas lacked definition and he went back and swept those with a vertical motion giving it more data.
“This is safe,” Gunny decided. “There are lots of intricate metal shapes and it appears to be bagged and foamed in place. I’ll run this up to my partner. As soon as he secures it and comes back to the open hatch, we can send the first passenger up.”
Nobody felt conversational so he hooked the box on the crane and gave Mackay a thumbs-up jerk to take it away.
“We don’t need the cart if you want to return it,” Gunny suggested.
The fellow looked a question at Lieutenant Hoffman and got a nod of permission. That didn’t bother Gunny, but the wary look on the man’s face sickened him. It confirmed his opinion already growing opinion that Hoffman was an arrogant little bully.
“Ready!” Mackay called from above. Gunny wasn’t looking up while Mackay couldn’t watch the Martians for him. The longer they all stood waiting, the more the line of evacuees fidgeted, and the stiller and straighter Hoffman stood. Everyone was tense.
Mackay originally wanted to scan each person boarding as thoroughly as Gunny had just scanned the box. April wasn’t willing to sit that long and insisted on two outgas detectors on each side of the entry being sufficient. The Martians were all from ethnic groups that had no tradition of suicide bombers, but Mackay was excessively cautious.
Hoffman moved up to the ladder and turned to face his charges. He had the decency to look at Gunny and lift his chin a little in question. Gunny nodded yes.
The first person in line fairly sprinted to the ladder when Hoffman motioned him forward. Hoffman didn’t watch him go up. He simply gripped the ladder and when the man reached the middle, he motioned the next person forward. He’d obviously counted the steps and was counting the ladder jiggles, nodding his head in time to them. Gunny still thought he was a creep, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a smart creep.
Mackay above could be heard on the radio telling the boarders where to stand, or how to orient themselves.
“One more,” he called out.
Mackay swung out of the hold and hung on a grab-hold. The backs of two passengers filled the opening.
“I don’t think we can fit another safely,” Mackay decided. “We have twenty-eight. I’m calling it full.”
“I’ll get the ladder,” Gunny said. “Go on up to the lock and drop me a line.”
Gunny went up the line hand over hand. It had knots on it but in this gravity and with his strength he didn’t need them. When he got to the level of the cargo hatch, he stopped and looked at Mackay’s packing job. It looked good and he lifted the top of the ladder to unhook it and let it fall to the ground.
“You might want to drag that clear and back off,” he suggested to the Martians. They grabbed it and retreated without thanks or goodbyes. There were four of them that hadn’t fit in the hold. Hoffman was herding them back already.
* * *
“Watch yourselves folks,” Gunny told their passengers. “I’m going to have the pilot close the hatch. Be sure to stay clear, OK?”
A couple looked over their shoulders and they crowded away as far as possible. The hatch closed without touching any of them. Gunny continued up to the lock, ignoring the recessed take holds in favor of the line.
“We have a radio link in the hold if any of you need to tell us anything,” April broadcast to them on the suit frequencies.
“I’m waiting on you two to take your seats to lift,” she told her security guys.
They sat waiting, April nervous until her security announced they were buckled up.
“We’ll slowly ramp up to a full g,” April told her passengers. “I’ll check with you when we reach that. If anybody is having any difficulty, I can hold that level. I’d rather increase it another quarter g if you can tolerate it.
“Hringhorni, please relay to Phobos Control we are lifting and will notify them when we leave their control volume.”
“Lift in ten seconds,” April told them in the hold. She didn’t want to surprise anyone. There was no outcry or complaint. She let it build to a full g over thirty seconds.
“That’s a full g. Is everybody doing OK?” April asked.
“I can’t believe I used to weigh this much all the time,” a woman’s voice replied. “If we have to go any heavier than this, I think I’ll have to sit down. I think I can do that and put my legs out between the others.”
“Don’t try,” April said. “You might hurt yourself. Can you stay at this acceleration a couple more minutes?”
“Yes, the gentlemen on either side are supporting me, thank you.”
“Hold on two more minutes and we’ll be over a hundred and fifty-kilometers altitude and we’ll transition to free fall,” April promised. “Hringhorni, we are jumping out ten k kilometers and will not need you further. See you back at the Moon after we discharge these folks. I’m leaving the com open so you folks hear what we are doing.”
“Phobos Control, be advised I am exiting your control area in a few seconds,” she said with scant courtesy.
“Freefall in ten seconds,” April called out immediately, and punched in the jump command. The drive shutdown a second after.
“Johnson, would you take the conn, please?” April said as soon as they jumped. “I’d appreciate it if you would set up a jump to a trailing solar orbit behind Earth and do a long slow burn at four-tenths of a g to match velocity at the edge of Earth’s traffic control volume. Be sure to ease the burn on and warn our passengers so they can orient themselves. You can request clearance to approach and dock at ISSII.” She let out a big sigh of relief for being safely away from the Martians. She didn’t trust them at all.
“Aye, working the problem,” Johnson said. “Passengers, be aware I’ll be gently turning the ship a couple of times but I will not accelerate without warning and when I do so it will be gradual so you can get positioned standing again and will not exceed what you’ve been used to on Mars. We will need to accelerate for about seventeen minutes to match velocities. If anyone has trouble standing that long speak up or sit while we are easing the acceleration on. I don’t suggest you wait until we are at full acceleration to sit down. As Miss Lewis pointed out, that increases the likelihood of injury. That should be happening in about five minutes from now.”
“Mr. Johnson, a question please?” a voice said from the hold.
“Direct that to Lady Lewis, please. I’m kind of busy flying.”
“Lady Lewis?”
“April is fine. Johnson is overly formal with me. What did you wonder and to whom am I speaking?”
“I was the sixth person in line. That was supposed to be Carl Zimmerman, but I substituted myself for him. I’m of the group of which you are aware who would not be voluntarily released from Mars by the current administration. I’d rather not identify myself until we can speak privately.”
There were audible gasps from others in the hold, and a pause from April while she considered what was safe to reply.
“That fine, but I have to ask what happened to Mr. Zimmerman?” April demanded.
“Carl is in housekeeping. When the new shift shows up at their supply and office area, they are going to find him seated well away from any com and handcuffed to a sturdy conduit. I assure you he’s quite healthy and hasn’t been harmed at all. It wasn’t necessary to use force at all. I simply fooled him into looking at something closely and had the cuff on him before he knew what I was going on. He was quite peeved with me. From your chatter, do I really understand correctly that we will be at ISSII in a matter of hours? We’re not just transferring to a different vessel in Mars orbit?” the man asked.
“That’s right. You are being taken direct,” April confirmed.
“It doesn’t seem credible, but I’ll take it as a given. I’d like to request I not be repatriated at ISSII. I believe I can be of value to you. I’d rather seek asylum wherever else you go.”
“We’ll be returning to Home,” April said. “There are no restrictions on entering Home but it is a very expensive place to visit or live. If anyone else wants to go to Home instead of being repatriated to Europe through ISSII they can, but you should have significant funds you can access or skills you know are immediately needed to risk doing that. We aren’t going to give you free passage later if it doesn’t work out for you.”
“My name is Eron Swanson,” another passenger spoke up. “I’m a very high-level electronics tech and have about twelve years of back pay sitting in a Swiss bank. I never wanted to go back to Earth so I’ll stay aboard at ISSII also. I had no desire to go back to Earth but I could see things were going bad on Mars too. I’m number three on your manifest. They put us in line in the order they wanted to get rid of us. They were pretty blunt about wanting me gone. I was scared not to leave if I was so unwelcome.”
“You were smart,” April said. “One of the reasons we agreed to transport you people is it would have been hazardous to your health to stay.”
“That’s pretty much what I thought,” Eron said. “They killed Schober, didn’t they?”
“I suspect somebody did,” April agreed. “I haven’t heard any personal confessions but I seriously doubt he stumbled over his own feet and broke his neck.”
The ship made a slow twisting change of attitude that wasn’t alarming.
The first voice that didn’t want to share a name spoke up. “They told us he died in a decompression accident.”
“On his usual afternoon stroll?” Eron asked in a scoffing tone.
“Exactly,” voice one agreed. “I doubt if the man has been in a p-suit in years.”
“Well, they tried to kill my grandpa by sabotaging his suit. If that hadn’t worked, they’d also put a dab of hydraulic oil or something on his window gasket,” April said. “It was swelling and making it soft. If it blew out in his sleep period, he’d have never have gotten the lights on much less get to a suit.”
“Who was he? What did he hire on to do?” Eron asked.
“I think I know,” voice one said. “He was that construction boss they hired on. He went up to Phobos and never came back.”
“Yes, Happy Lewis,” April said. “He went up to Phobos because he knew they were trying to kill him. We picked him up just like we are you. But that was for free. We’re being paid for picking you up. Try not to equate us with your administrators just because we are dealing with them. If we hadn’t picked you up, you’d have been in similar danger. Sometimes you do business with nasty people because the alternatives are far worse.”
“They wouldn’t dare!” a new voice said indignantly.
“And yet, you decided to come along,” a different voice pointed out.
“That would work to destroy a window seal,” Eron said, “but how would they time it to blow when he was sleeping? You’d have to do it to a whole batch of them and find the mean time to failure.”
“No,” voice one said, “just let it soften the gasket and suddenly overpressure the room in the middle of the night. If the sudden pressure change awakened him it wouldn’t matter. It would be too late.”
There was a long ugly silence. Nobody wanted to express their feelings aloud. Some of the smarter ones were likely afraid to. The ship turned again.
“I’m ramping back up to four-tenths of a g,” Johnson told them. “Get comfortable for about a quarter of an hour and we’ll have some more maneuvering when we get near LEO. I’ll keep the channel open so you hear us ask clearance.”
“Thank you,” Eron said. The Martians were all talked out for now.

Chapter 3
“We should be in radio range of LEO and be able to get relays to talk to Earth Control now,” Johnson informed April, rousing her from some idle daydreaming “I’d appreciate it if you took the conn and spoke to them.”
“If you wish,” April agreed. “Is there a problem with you doing it?”
“There’s no problem between us, but we are coming in on an unusual vector and I suspect Earth Control may start interrogating me over why we are on such an odd approach. I believe they will be less inquisitive and more respectful of you. Your name is firmly attached to unleashing a massive bombardment when they do something foolish like shoot at you. The talk going around is that the recent huge detonation in the Black Sea seemed to be related to your overflying the area after you were diverted away from crossing Turkey and Persia.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.
“I have the conn then,” April agreed and ignored the implied question. “I’m cutting the audio feed from the hold,” she informed the passengers. “I’ll have Johnson monitor it for problems but I’d rather not have that channel open with Earth Control listening.” She looked over and Johnson nodded.
“Earth Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot, Master April Lewis approaching your control volume from a chasing solar orbit. We intend to match the outer control volume at ISSII on a tangent and request local approach and docking there. Do we have clearance, please?”
“Dionysus’ Chariot, we see your squawk and have no conflicting traffic. Uh, may I have your ticket and second, please?”
That was entirely proper to ask and he was being polite so April was too.
“I am Master ID 737-62-4002 and my second Boris Johnson is number 923-07-1033.”
“Ma’am, if I may, I don’t see any departure information on my system for you except a recent departure to translunar space. Would you please advise me if my data is in error so I can report a discrepancy on our system?”
“That is correct. We recently departed Central although I don’t believe we declared a destination leaving their control. More recently we departed Phobos Traffic Control above Mars. Of course, they don’t advise me who they update or how timely they do so.”
There was a pause of dead air while the Earth Controller thought on that.
“Thank you, Dionysus’ Chariot, my Phobos Control updates…. Oh, I see it posted just now.”
“That’s good then. We just arrived ahead of your update transmission,” April assured him. She waited to see if he would ask how that was possible on an open mic.
“Thank you, Dionysus’ Chariot. No further questions. Contact ISSII local on approach.”
“I enjoyed that too much,” April said to Johnson over a muted mic.
“ISSII Local Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot on a chasing approach. Master April Lewis, ID 737-62-4002 requesting approach and short-term docking at your north mast for a drop-off.”
“Dionysus’ Chariot, port three is open for a quick layover. We have no traffic anticipated for several hours. Make your approach and dock at your convenience.”
Dionysus’ Chariot was a regular at ISSII to drop off light freight and packages for UPS or Larkin’s, so there were no questions. “We are docking,” April told the passengers. “We’ll have people to assist you when the hatch opens.”
“Gunny and Mackay, when we attach at the hold hatch there will be a man lock offset on the mast. I’d like you to go inside and tell me when you are by the port before I open the hold and let you open the mast hatch. I’m flooding the hold with air so we don’t cause a big pressure drop in their mast. I’ll pump that down after we leave. We need those suits to return later to the Martians, so I’d like you to process everybody but the two we are keeping as quickly as can be done safely. Hold them all there until we have the whole mob de-suited and then send them on down the mast with instructions to call station security to log them on-station.”
Johnson looked over at her, started to say something, and thought better of it.
From when the grapples were felt to engage until Mackay reported the suits in the hold, the port hatch dogged back shut and they were returning to the flight deck was only twenty-two minutes. April was very happy with that. It only took another three minutes for her security guys to be back on the flight deck strapping in.
“Stay well clear of the hatch and orient to the deck,” April told her two remaining passengers. “I’m closing the hatch now and we’ll be leaving in just a minute or two.”
“That was good work,” April told them when they were secured.
‘These folks all went to Mars on the Sandman. They can handle themselves in zero g,” Gunny said. “That really helped.”
“ISSII Local, this is Dionysus’ Chariot requesting undock and departure of your control area for translunar space,” April requested.
“Dionysus’ Chariot, we are still clear of any traffic. Depart at your leisure and be safe out there,” Control said, kindly.
“Thank you, Local, undocking now.” The chunk of the grapples releasing was immediate. April pushed off the mast with no more warning to her passengers and aimed at the sky. The Moon was on the other side of the Earth and she’d have to dog-leg around the Earth to it. She did hold the acceleration to a half g for the Martians. As soon as she hit the kilometer local traffic limit, she jumped out right in front of God and ISSII and everybody. Once well removed she turned the ship around bringing the Earth and Moon back visible now in front of them.
“That’s going to take some time to get used to,” Mackay said looking over her shoulder.
“Tell me about it. It’s still a miracle for me every time I see it. Home Local is friendly, Johnson. Why don’t you finish taking us back?” April told her second.
“Aye, happy to do it,” Johnson agreed. “I hope you know that the next load you bring from Mars they aren’t going to forget this little trick? They will make you sit until every last one is identified and has passed medical checks before they grant clearance to leave.”
“I didn’t want to wait for them to process everyone,” April agreed. “Don’t worry about next time too much. I’m thinking maybe I’ll drop the next load off at the Turnip. After all, most of these folks are European and it should be just as convenient to be repatriated from a French hab.”
“They will probably want you to sit and wait there too,” Johnson insisted.
“Nah… ISSII isn’t going to tell on themselves that they got so sloppy receiving a mob. The French will have no clue this happened,” April insisted.
* * *
Linda Pennington showed at Heather’s court as ordered. Mo wasn’t entirely sure she would, even as Heather told him her intention. He decided not to borrow trouble by expressing his misgivings. He beat her there as well as three other supplicants. She was the last in before the door closed on this session of court and she didn’t look happy when she walked in. She looked even less happy when she saw Mo. The fact Heather took care of all the other cases until it was only Linda, Mo, and Heather’s assistant Dakota left with the sovereign was irritating Linda. Someone else might not know but Mo knew the little tells from long experience. The increasingly rigid posture and repeated pursing of her lips. The fact that she was last in the door and would normally be last heard even if she hadn’t been summoned was lost on her. She always thought of herself as special and just expected preferential treatment. It wasn’t a good frame of mind with which to approach Heather, Mo reflected.
“Thank you for coming, Linda,” Heather finally said. “Do you still go by Pennington, or have you reverted to your family name or another?”
“It’s easier to continue with Pennington but Linda is fine,” she granted.
“Thank you. Linda. I’ll make this short and sweet. You have been abusing the privilege of texting Mo with an unreasonable volume. It came to my attention because I observed he looked ill and stressed. He indicated he might return to Home just to get away from you.”
Linda started a little and then regarded Mo. If looks could kill, he’d have been sprawled on the floor.
“I’ll note that he specifically refused to register a complaint. He acknowledged you have common interests such that he didn’t feel you shouldn’t be able to contact him at all. Also, out of his respect for what I now see was a foolish defective judgment on my part. It’s the manner of constantly contacting him that is a problem. Bluntly, you have no sense at all about what is normal and reasonable. I have no stomach for trying to teach that to you. I wondered how you could possibly do a job and write that many text messages a day. I have to hand it to you that your supervisor said you performed your duties adequately.
“But Mo is not the one complaining, I am. You are interfering with Mo, who is a valuable asset to me. You are of relatively little value to my nation. I told Mo I thought that if he returned to Home you would simply follow him there as you followed him here. That would be a tragic waste for all of us. Therefore, I have decided I am going to expel you from Central. You have a week to decide what of your things you wish to take, whether to store or dispose of the remaining items and leave. You could go to Armstrong or one of the other lunar colonies or back to Home. Once you go out of our lock, you are no longer our concern.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Linda protested. “Unless… you want me out of the picture because you want Mo,” Linda accused.
Heather forced her mouth to stay shut, and just looked briefly at the pistol laying on her table. It took a moment to compose herself.
“Congratulations,” Heather said, “you have just managed to make me feel a surge of empathy for every petty tyrant who has ever had an impossible person dragged outside and beheaded rather than deal with them.”
Linda was too stupid to be afraid, but Mo was alarmed and sickened at his ex’s accusation.
“I’ll add a bonus. If you can’t afford to leave the Moon, I’ll gladly pay your passage to any of the habs or Earth. It’s worth it to be rid of you. Now, don’t say another word,” Heather said with a forestalling hand. “Don’t make me regret being this generous with you, just go. And Mo, I suggest you block your phone right now.” Heather stood and went to her quarters. If Linda didn’t have the sense to leave quickly Dakota would kick her out.
* * *
The new Director of Security at ISSII, Felix Herrman, was having a slow day. That was a good thing in his business. Truth was, nothing critical or difficult had happened since he’d taken over from Jan Hagen. The man had suddenly abandoned his post and absconded to Home with no explanation. That had been a surprise to the political factions seeking to replace him because they expected a bigger fight over the position. Jan had years of experience and had to have a body of embarrassing files with which to threaten almost a generation of politicians. Felix had been groomed for the job in anticipation of Jan’s ouster and kept waiting in a position created to keep him comfortable but available. That he was able to assume the role sooner than expected with little fuss was a gift Felix wouldn’t turn down.
The first thing Felix did was discharge those people closest to Jan who might retain personal loyalties over organizational duty. His deputy and both IT specialists involved with local security systems and communications, the office secretary, and personal assistant had to go. Felix extended his purge to the chef and two assistants who ran the station cafeteria and food service. That was the only change to which the various national interest sections objected. The man could cook. Felix however had a paranoid dread of any stranger who was allowed to handle his food. He brought in a chef from the National Police academy to replace the other based on his politics more than his skill. It was much harder to pry a good chef loose from another agency than a spy or cracker. The personal importance of this to him could be judged by the fact he was rail thin.
It was a surprise when all but the second in command of security decided to move on to the Moon or Home rather than return to Earth. ISSII was considered a hardship post and paid accordingly, but they all seemed to regard returning to Earth as the greater hardship. Indeed the secretary had introduced him to a new term, saying she had zero desire to return to the Slum Ball. He’d have fired her for that slur alone.
Felix had one of his IT men take a leisurely stroll through the hab, reminiscent of an old-fashioned cop doing a foot patrol of his neighborhood. They were dual-purpose positions, the computer guys both being sworn officers. There really wasn’t enough in the way of systems work to keep one administrator busy. He had two of equal authority simply to keep one from having too much control over systems Felix depended on but wasn’t qualified to run. One would be a restraint on the other. He also assumed one or both of them being in a position to see everything happening, reported to people above him without his knowledge. That was just to be expected.
They both took turns making the rounds on a variable schedule with no effort to maintain twenty-four-hour coverage. Sometimes they even overlapped. Of course, they both had instant communications with his office and carried sensor packs to keep track of the emissions around the entry to various national interest sections. Permanently installed cameras and sensors left in those locations tended to malfunction or disappear entirely if not actively guarded. Locks always leaked a bit each time they cycled, and with the randomness of the patrols, sometimes they passed various nationals leaving or returning from their county’s sections.
Analysis of the air in the corridor and outgassing from individuals they passed showed every single private section had outgassing from propellants. The Chinese section showed the presence of metabolites from narcotics all out of proportion to any likely therapeutic use, and for several prescription drugs one wouldn’t expect in healthy personnel assigned to a space station. The air around the Russian section showed that someone there smoked. The persistence of it and the fact there was a heavy haze of odor control chemicals indicated it was someone of high enough rank it had to be endured rather than curtailed by the other Russians. It was not just plain cigarettes, but the horrid Turkish sort with clove flavoring.
The British section had biological traces so uncommon they had to be sent to Earth for analysis. The report said they indicated the presence of a Honey Badger, which made no sense at all. Felix decided they were just messing with him and wrote it off as deliberate disinformation, informed by British humor. The Indians on the other hand ominously had traces above the background level of products from the slow spontaneous fission of U235.
Felix was about to go get a mediocre but safe lunch. He wasn’t a deliberate stoic, just a paranoid and control freak. However, the com station for the freight docking mast made a direct call to security. There was a big red touch button in the corner of most public screens to facilitate that. The face on the screen was unfamiliar and so earnest and friendly it put him off. People calling security were not normally in a good mood.
“Hello, we were just dropped off and told to call security and you’d check us in and take care of us.”
Felix checked the address on the feed again. It was from the freight dock airlock. He checked the screen traffic control fed them. There was no passenger shuttle scheduled. It showed a quick dock for drop off by a Central vessel. That usually meant a package or two in the mast lockers for UPS or Larkin’s Line. At most, they’d wait for a courier to come sign for a very high-value package. Nobody said they had passengers.
“Hello? I see you reading. Should we just find our own way to a hotel?” the man asked. “If you don’t have any customs procedures, we’ll just wing it. I don’t see a menu to call up a map or any ads for hotels on this terminal like you’d see at an airport.”
“No, no, wait please, I’ll have somebody there in just a few minutes to sign you on the station,” Felix said. “You said we. How many are in your party please?”
“Twenty-six of us. I’m Milton Busby. I’m not in charge or anything. Some of the others were too shy to step forward and call you. They probably thought that would imply they were in charge. I’d just like to get a room and make some calls home once I can tell my people when I’ll arrive back home.”
Felix was stunned. Twenty-six of them? He looked at the camera diagram and found the corridor camera looking at the lock and security station, bringing it up on another screen. Sure enough, there was a mob of them all watching the fellow who’d called in.
“I see. Where is home, and where were you coming from Mr. Busby?” Felix asked.
For the first time, Milton looked at him like he was peculiar.
“I’m from the UK and most of us are European. We’re all from Mars. Do you mean to say, nobody informed you we were coming?”
“Unfortunately, no. Hold right there and I’ll have my deputy come sign all of you in. I don’t suppose any of you have passports?”
“Of course not. You don’t need one to go to Mars. Back when all of us went to Mars it wasn’t a nation.”
Felix forced himself to smile. “Well, there’s that, isn’t there? We’ll just have to establish your identities.”
“That shouldn’t be hard,” Milton said. “Most of us are rather well-known scientists and researchers in our fields. It’s quite the shortlist who managed to get to Mars, and no few of us upset at being kicked out.”
Felix nodded and opened a half screen to the deputy on call. He didn’t share the split with either party but let the audio run.
“Stern,” Felix addressed him by his online name, “I need you to go to the mast access lock. Open the check-in station and have all of the people there touch the plate and declare an identity. None of them have identification.”
“How many of them are there?” Stern asked alarmed.
“Twenty-six.”
Stern blinked rapidly a few times considering that.
“Should I rouse out Richard and ask him to back me up?”
“They seem quite docile. No need to wake him up. Just get up there before they grow restless and start wandering off. I don’t want to be searching the corridors for them.”
“I’m on it,” Stern said and jumped up so fast he exited with the screen and camera live.
Felix ended the call for him and called Traffic Control.
“Commander,” the controller on duty acknowledged with a nod. He looked relaxed and not guilty. He was chewing on the back end of a screen stylus, unawares, a habit Felix found disgusting.
“Are you familiar with a ship that just docked briefly at the freight mast? I show it on the departure screen as Dionysus’ Chariot.”
“Yes, they are regulars. They run a lot of high priority packages because it’s a fast ship.”
“It’s not a passenger shuttle?” Felix demanded.
“Hardly. I’d be surprised if it carries more than four, unless you stack them in the hold,” he joked.
“Did you collect any video that would confirm they are the actual vessel they claimed to be?” Felix asked.
“Sure, I have a camera feed from both sides of the mast. I’ll share it with you.” He leaned forward and did something on the screen with the stylus. A picture of the ship appeared in the corner of Felix’s screen. Even he could tell it wasn’t a passenger shuttle, but it surprised him it was an atmospheric lander.
“Is it too late to recall their clearance and demand they return to dock?” Felix asked hopefully.
“They are long gone out of radio range, cleared for translunar space.” The man paused and frowned considering if he should speak freely with his new boss.
“I would have advised against demanding they hold in any case. The active pilot was April Lewis.”
“Am I supposed to recognize that name?” Felix asked a bit frosty.
“Before you came aboard, a previous traffic control team was cycling through the Chinese section’s turn. They tried to restrain another vessel with Miss Lewis from leaving to arrest some of their passengers. The vessel blew the mast, vaporized a Chinese security officer trying to disable them, shot the Control Leader through the viewport, and then blew the hell out of the yard tractor when they tried to ram them. Pissed them off so bad they shot all the radar and radio antennas off the hab with lasers before departing.”
“Where was station security with all this happening?” Felix asked. “No wonder they replaced Jan Hagan.”
“Since he’d escorted their passengers to the ship, and given them explicit clearance to depart, Jan was a bit miffed with the Chinese. He flushed an airlock full of them without benefit of p-suits. That was the start of serious controversy with his long tenure,” the controller explained.
Felix was horrified. “Nobody told me all this when I was recruited.”
“It’s all available from public sources if you know how to web search deeply enough. The space nuts all know. But of course, the BBC video was yanked the very next day. Once it’s up for more than a few seconds it doesn’t matter. Somebody somewhere will have archived it, and it’s forever.”
Maybe they didn’t share all that because they wanted me to take the job, Felix thought to himself.
“Then they did stack them in the hold,” Felix said aloud.
“Stacked what?” The controller was way past remembering his earlier remark.
“Their passengers. They just dumped twenty-six undocumented people on us. I have my deputy down there right now taking names and making a list.”
“Where the heck are we going to put that many people?” the controller asked. “I think the Marriot has six rooms and they usually run half full.”
“I’m hoping some of them are citizens of active interest sections on-station who will house them,” Felix said. “If not, they are going to end up sleeping on the deck somewhere until I can get a flight to evacuate them. Did they name an active port of departure? Who was the idiot who authorized their departure?”
“They claimed a Mars departure, but that’s physically impossible. I took it to mean they didn’t want to say.”
“Did you get a traffic update?” Felix persisted in asking.
“Yes, but after they had already hailed us to request docking. It’s physically impossible. They would have had to beat the speed of light lag to get here. It has to be a faked sequence of events. Maybe they used a prearranged transmission, timed to give that appearance.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if Miss Lewis docks here again, I’d like a word with her,” Felix told him.
* * *
Irwin Hall wasn’t used to this sort of walk-in business. He’d had some billionaires sitting in that seat across his desk recently, but all of them had arranged their visits well ahead. Several had security teams accompany them. One person, who he suspected was a trillionaire and not a mere billionaire, sent a lead man ahead to examine the facilities and Irwin himself before committing to a visit.
The fellow sipping tea across from him just walked in unannounced with no security and no appointment. His assistant, Dan Prescott, did a quick search on the man and sent the results to Irwin’s spex. He did a good job of condensing the information so Irwin could read it while the other man spoke, without making it obvious he was doing so.
Sajit Gupta was Indian and involved with several industries. He had control of a video production company, a garment distributing system that worked with many independent manufacturers, an entire collection of boutique hotels, and minority interests in so many other firms that Dan stopped trying to read the entire list. Like the lady who they suspected was a trillionaire, it would be very difficult to find out what the man was worth. It was probably enough that it fluctuated more each day than Irwin’s personal worth, so it would be difficult to get a snapshot number. The man might not know himself, without consulting his accountants. It was certainly enough he didn’t have to worry about raising capital to buy anything he wanted.
Irwin called up screenshots of the construction in progress and started what was pretty much his standard investment pitch. Gupta was polite, but perhaps a little amused, and cut him off.
“This is all very interesting,” Gupta said. “I’m sure you have an excellent business plan. All the smart money expects a long strong expansion of the off-Earth economy. I think however that you are mistaking the focus of my interest. I have many investments and a few of them are space-based, but what I am looking for is residential property, not an investment. I want to see details of how you plan to assign spaces for business, service, and residential areas. I want to know there will be places to eat and do light shopping and be entertained.”
“Beta will be very much like Home,” Irwin said. “The design has worked very well and most of the changes will be in improved materials and things that don’t really show to the casual inspection. There will still be the equivalent of a business district on the full g corridor and a cafeteria. Most people don’t have room for elaborate kitchens or if they are like me, they don’t regard cooking as a hobby, they just want to be fed well, with as little fuss as possible. I do expect to see more independent restaurants and clubs than we have on Home. There is a demand for them here that is difficult to meet. You’d have to acquire a very large cubic, and nobody is vacating theirs.”
“I came up to see for myself without making an appointment with you or anyone else. I’ve been escorted through too many presentations of various projects to want to be managed and shown only what serves other’s interests. I’ve been at the Holiday Inn for the last three days and I’ve visited pretty much every business and the two cafeterias. At home, I’m known too well. It is difficult to visit restaurants and events without unwanted attention. Even favorable attention is intrusive and cloying. It was refreshing to be able to walk down your corridor and nobody knew who I was or paid me any special attention. I’ve pretty quickly given up any idea of living with staff. I might have a single housekeeper but not a chef or an assistant to do the shopping. Of course, I’d have no need for a laundry maid, driver, or gardener.
“I asked to be shown residential properties, but nothing was available that is more than an efficiency I’d characterize as a cubby hole. It appears, even among those tiny properties, most are sold unseen because the buyers are familiar with the basic layouts. They are sold ahead before they are even vacated. I’d like to at least be shown actual floor plans if a computer model is not available.”
“I’ll get them for you but I haven’t looked at the detailed files for residential cubic,” Irwin confessed. “I know the first ring will have a cafeteria and an administrative office with a communications room. It will have a docking mast adjacent to the hub, so you will have all those services available. Most, such as the cafeteria, won’t be replicated until the last ring is built at the other end. So if you would be happy with living on Home, Beta will be very similar.”
“One assumes these necessary facilities will occupy enough volume that the end rings will have less space for residential volume, cubic as you say. I’d like to buy now before they are all spoken for by the administrators and the owners of businesses who want to live close to their shops and offices. If you have those architectural drawings, could you not spare a couple of hours to run a computer model of interior spaces? I’d think you are going to need simulated images for your own sales efforts before they physically exist and can be shown.”
“I have to admit I’ve probably been a bit lazy about that. The demand for cubic is so high I expect it all to sell without any great effort.” Irwin stopped and thought. “I do business with someone who has such a property. I can ask her if you might see it as a personal favor. That would give you a much better idea of what such a property would be like to live in than a virtual walk-through.
“Does she owe you a favor?” Gupta asked, curious.
“No indeed. Rather I owe her so much another little debt will hardly alter the balance. If you come to live on Beta, you will undoubtedly do business with her or her partners. So I might as well introduce you in any event. Let me see if she is on Home. She spends a lot of time on the Moon too.” He leaned back in his chair and called up April on his spex, opening his call on the wall screen.
“Hi, Irwin. What are you doing today? The usual wheeling and dealing?” April teased. She was sitting on a sofa with a print on the wall behind Irwin recognized. That answered the question about her being home.
“Something a little different today,” Irwin said. “I have a gentleman who I mistook for an investor in Beta. It turns out what he really wants is to buy some private cubic. I’m neither a real estate agent nor know how to fake being one. He’s taken a couple of days to scope out Home on his own before speaking with me. Now he would like to see what decent cubic looks like, not a two-person apartment. Might it be possible to walk him through your place to give him a feel for it? I can schedule it when you are away if you want. However, he’s a fellow of some substance who I’d expect you will eventually meet and have business dealing with anyway, if he buys into Beta.”
“Name?” April asked in a side window that didn’t show on the wall.
“Sajit Gupta,” Irwin replied the same way.
“We were about to send out for some lunch,” April said. “Jeff is here and Gunny is in residence. I’ll ask them to send it as a buffet for eight. Nothing ever seems to go to waste when Gunny is home for a few days, so that will be fine to have leftovers in the fridge. We can chat and eat, and perhaps give your customer an idea of what it is like to live on Home. Are you free to come right over?”
Gupta nodded yes, and Irwin agreed. That was interesting. April hadn’t had time to do a search and read it, so she trusted his judgment. That made him feel pretty good.

Chapter 4
Vic had enough trade goods to haul to this fair that he would need to pull them on his garden wagon rather than try to carry them. After thinking about how old it was, and how much he would depend on it to make the trip both ways, Vic took the wheels off and greased the axles. The time when you could let something bust from neglect and just order a new one was long gone.
Deeper excavation of the trash pit in a nearby gully had yielded more glass jars. The deeper they went the less the chance of finding redeemable lids, but they still had a market. Extracting the jars without breaking them became harder where they were embedded in the soil. Vic left that to Eileen. She had a delicate touch with a border fork and perhaps a little more patience than Vic.
Another old outbuilding was sacrificed after Vic reluctantly conceded it had no practical value to them and the roof would likely not last until materials became available again to repair it. That gave them several kilograms of recovered nails. The wiring was carefully removed, as was any hardware. There were two windows from which the glass was carefully recovered. The wood was separated into a pile that could be burnt next winter and a smaller pile of boards worth saving to be put in the large barn. Those would be used to repair the old chicken coop for Eileen.
Despite all their preparations, it wasn’t certain they would be able to go. Tommy, Pearl’s beau seemed determined to go to the festival instead of housesitting for them as he’d done in the fall. They intended to announce their marriage and that he’d be staying on with Pearl’s father as family instead of as a hired hand. Vic had nobody else he knew and trusted to take over for Tommy. Indeed, finding a replacement was the sort of thing he’d have done by personal interviews at the fall fair if he’d known they’d need someone. It was far too sensitive a position of trust to try to hire anyone via the radio net.
Pearl’s announcement that she was pregnant solved that dilemma. As soon as that was known, both Tommy and Pearl’s father suddenly felt she was made of glass and far too delicate to make the trek to the fair. While that irritated Pearl no end, it solved Vic’s problem.
“Vic, what about the Woodleighs’ house?” Eileen asked.
“What about it?” Vic said with a quizzical expression.
“Nobody was guarding it when we went to the festival with them. I never thought anything about it at the time,” Eileen admitted.
“Arnold said they have a few special dishes and tools they took out in the woods and hid. Pearl brought their good kitchen knives and a lantern along when she and Tommy stayed here. The household things like bedding and towels they just left and accepted the risk somebody might carry them away. Arnold joked about how before The Day, burglars could back a truck up and clean you out of all your furniture. Who is going to carry away your sofa and kitchen table now? Hardly anybody has a horse-drawn wagon. Certainly not petty criminals. They are pretty much limited to what they can carry now. The things they used to take like a TV or other electronics, nobody would give a second glance. He said if thieves want their microwave it’s on the back porch, and Pearl’s game system is on a closet shelf. They didn’t even lock the place up, because having the door busted would be a bigger inconvenience than anything people could steal.”
“But we have enough stuff to be worth guarding?” Eileen asked.
“I couldn’t start to carry just the things in my gun safe,” Vic said. “We have a lot more tools and stuff like fencing and metals worth taking. The attitude of people to salvaging now has gotten so liberal that I’d be afraid that leaving the place unoccupied is an invitation to looting. I’m at least as worried about a group squatting and claiming the place while we are gone as simply taking anything. The land attached to the house is also worth a lot more than Arnold’s ten acres. It used to be you could call the sheriff and have people evicted. The last few years before The Day they made it pretty hard to do that, even if we still had a sheriff.”
“OK, I’m still not used to the idea we’re rich,” Eileen admitted.
* * *
Irwin introduced everyone, careful of defining it as a business meeting by introducing Sajit Gupta as his client. April was easy to introduce first as the homeowner, and then Jeff as her business partner. Gunny wasn’t evident yet, simplifying things.
“We have a third equal business partner who isn’t present,” Jeff said. “She resides on the Moon and doesn’t get to Home very often now.”
“You maintain a Home residence also?” Gupta asked Jeff.
“Yes, but nothing so grand as April has,” Jeff said making an encompassing gesture. “I have a standard two-bedroom unit that is very utilitarian and serves me more for a business office than a home. Circumstances forced me to offer space to an employee who came up from Earth. At the time there was nowhere else to put him. We three also share zero g industrial cubic on the north hub, but it’s unsuitable as residential.”
“Lunch is ordered,” April said. “Come sit and make yourself comfortable. We can eat while it is hot and talk a little before I walk you through. It’s not like it is going to take hours.
“Our partner, Heather, who Jeff spoke about, grew up on Home. Her mother still lives here and has a cubic very similar to this but even a bit bigger. Having visited with them helped me know how to effectively utilize this space when I was fortunate enough it came on the market. She had two smaller bedrooms sectioned off like I have one for my bodyguard Gunny Mac.”
“How many similar residences exist in the four rings?” Gupta asked April, looking around.
“There aren’t any public records such as exist with real estate on Earth. Also, there isn’t any zoning into residential and commercial. I’m sure Mitsubishi has a pretty good idea of how each cubic is used just from the utility usage, but it would take quite a bit of research to find that out without their resources. I wouldn’t do that because if my neighbors found out they might consider it invasive. Spacers have expectations of privacy most Earthies don’t share. Even Home security is cautious about surveillance in public places. I’m pretty sure a lot of it is just sitting vacant. Every time there has been trouble on Earth it motivates the wealthy to buy safe retreats and you can’t retreat much further than this. Especially since we moved from LEO out past the Moon. The last wave of that we saw got ridiculous, with buyers actively approaching owners who weren’t offering their places for sale.”
“That seems such a waste to have a good part of it sitting unused,” Gupta said.
April shrugged. “It is, but if you buy similar cubic will you be offering it as a vacation rental by the week when you don’t need it?”
Gupta laughed heartily, unoffended. “No, I do take your point. I’ve heard horror stories about the damages and indignities suffered by people who had literal palaces to let. The idea they would get a better class of people for expensive properties didn’t work out. In any case, I intend to live in it, not just keep it as a vacation home or a safe retreat.”
“Heather’s kingdom on the Moon is probably a better choice for safety,” Jeff said. “They go deeper every day and they already survived a direct nuke hit. The trouble is, it is a huge undertaking to develop a property there. You have to start from scratch to create a livable environment. You have to tunnel and seal before you can even think about building environmental systems like a ship.”
“But it’s still a frontier society,” April warned him. “There aren’t any clubs or fancy shops. There’s one sort of a deli and bake shop now. Other than that, you cook yourself or go to the common cafeteria. They’re just starting to tie tunnels together to extend the public right of ways and private tunnels from property to property far below the surface. The first few years, you had to go back to the surface to go any distance to visit or trade with a neighbor.”
Gupta looked thoughtful, pursing his lips, and looking from one to the other. “But I imagine it must be much less expensive than here if it is so primitive. How expensive is the cubic, as you like to call it, there compared to here?”
“It’s sort of hard to compare,” April said. “Here, you can buy an apartment fee simple even if you are obligated for utilities to Mitsubishi. On the Moon, at least at Central, I don’t know of anyone selling small parcels of cubic. I know you can rent space with some limited services, but if anyone has sold off part of their holding, I haven’t heard. The owners aren’t the sort who let go of land once they own it. Some risked their lives to get there and fled bad circumstances on Earth or other lunar outposts to get there. Heather hasn’t sold small lots because the rights go down to the center of the Moon and it would be complicated in time as they taper smaller. You can still buy a property very reasonably though. Heather is still selling outlying lots that are twenty-five kilometers on a side for eighty solars.”
“What’s the exchange on a solar?” Gupta asked. “I don’t bother to follow it because they are outlawed in India. For that matter, most foreign exchange is very limited and has to go through the central bank.”
“That’s hard to compare too,” April said. “This is a solar.” She reached in a pocket and flipped him a coin off her thumb. “It’s twenty-five grams.”
“Amazing,” Gupta said, examining the coin he’d snatched out of the air. “I didn’t turn into a demon on contact with the evil thing. The temples are about the only ones allowed to hold gold now. The government keeps trying to get them to put it on deposit. The jewelers get so little metal allowed to be imported that the older ones have retired and the young ones don’t know how to make the traditional wedding sets now.” He blinked a couple of times looking at the coin. “So a lunar lot is two kilograms of gold?”
“We do platinum solars too,” Jeff told him. He didn’t insult Gupta by answering an obviously rhetorical question. Gupta wasn’t innumerate.
“Doesn’t that create problems when there is any spread on the price?” Gupta asked.
“Maybe it will someday if we find enough of either to make one common. So far people have been willing to accept them at par. I’ve had a few people ask for one or the other if they were just going to use the platinum for a catalyst, or the gold for electronics. The mentality here is more like - How many dollars or euromarks do twenty-five grams buy today? The solar is seen as the constant side of that equation and Earth currencies fluctuate. Somebody needing electrical contacts for a prototype doesn’t need a London Good Delivery bar.”
“I wouldn’t expect to find such a thing on a space station,” Gupta said surprised.
“At the moment, we have three in the vault back at the office,” Irwin informed him, “but as Jeff said, the Moon is safer and we send most items on deposit or held in safekeeping to the Moon. There’s a courier to do so every two or three days. It goes down to vaults located kilometers deep. You might be surprised how many national treasures and publicly known works of art have been deposited there. We see an uptick in that service any time there is political instability or a threat of war.”
“But I see Miss Lewis chooses to risk her art here rather than bury it in a vault,” Gupta said with a wave at the walls.
“Are you familiar with Lindsey’s work?” April asked.
“No, I rather guessed they were all the same artist by the style, except that big weaving. That has a primitive tribal look to it.”
“That’s a tapa from Tonga,” April supplied. “It isn’t woven. They beat out Mulberry bark strips and glue them together. It’s more like paper than cloth. I count myself fortunate to have it because they banned the export of older mats and over a certain size since I acquired that. That mat would be considered a museum piece now. It’s a bit large even to fold up and wear as a skirt. It’s more the sort to be used for ceremonial occasions or as a gift suitable for Tongan royalty. They are culturally important for special occasions, such as births and deaths.”
“That’s interesting,” Gupta said. He didn’t seem to mean it sarcastically at all. That made points with April.
A soft chime sounded.
“House, show the corridor,” April ordered.
The big wall screen opened with two views of the corridor outside April’s door. A young man dressed in kitchen whites was standing behind an enclosed stainless-steel cart.
“House, unlock, and activate corridor speaker. I’m coming,” April promised the worker.
“In past the living room, on the edge of the kitchen,” April instructed, leading him in and pointing where she wanted it.
“Would you like me to stay and serve, Ma’am?”
“No, thank you, we’ll do fine,” April said and slipped him a couple of bits. He looked happy and correctly took that as his dismissal.
“House, lock up,” April ordered again after he was outside and checked the corridor before closing the view.
“Let’s see how this works,” April said. “My club started this delivery service just a couple of months ago. I was told they made a couple of these buffet carts, but this is the first time I’ve ordered one.” She lifted the top shell open by a recessed handle. The delivery man had parked it just far enough from the wall to allow space for the cover to stand vertically. The center section had plates and silverware as well as napkins and condiments. The handles at each end revealed hidden trays that pulled out and swiveled up to the same level as the center section at the end of their travel. One side for hot things and the other for cold. They locked with an audible >chunk<.
“It seems well thought out,” April allowed. “You are our guest. Would you like to make a plate?”
“Thank you. I’ve been to your public cafeteria and was favorably impressed. Is this club of which you speak a closed membership club?”
“No, it’s open to the public, at least to adults. You don’t have to be voted in like a country club. I’m a partner with a minority interest. They aren’t open this early but I knew the kitchen is working by now to do all the prep work for later. They take care of the owners.”
Gupta favored the cold side getting a couple of tiny tea sandwiches, some pasta salad, and chilled prawns.
“Is it adults only because they serve alcohol?” Gupta wondered.
“No, there isn’t any law requiring that. We have very few laws. It’s the policy of the club to serve adults to maintain an atmosphere. It just isn’t the sort of place where children belong. If the parents don’t have the sense to come without their children they are quietly told at the door. The place has entertainment, and they don’t serve in the middle of an act. The kitchen is aware when they start and will likely finish coordinating serving. I’ve been told the Maître d’ has a half dozen or so people prohibited from entering again because they wouldn’t dress appropriately or displayed boorish behavior. The help all have their pix in their spex in case Mr. Detweiler isn’t at the door.”
“I notice everybody seems to wear them here,” Gupta acknowledged. “I don’t say it to be critical, but in India, it’s not socially acceptable to wear them outside of a work environment. If servers wore them in a business the customers would object. There is a lingering fear they will be used to invade one’s privacy. Especially, to capture public figures in awkward and embarrassing moments.”
“That would be a dangerous game here,” Irwin said. “If you offended someone like that, they might invite you to make a convincing public apology, or meet them in the north corridor in the morning to settle it with pistols at ten paces.”
“I saw such a thing reported on the news services, but didn’t know if it was true. It was told in the harshest terms, condemning it. I didn’t give it any regard as I find it safer to believe very little of what they report.”
“No. It’s true that we have the duel, but it’s a rare thing. Most challenges end in a retraction or an expulsion from Home,” Jeff said.
A couple of changes of expression played over Gupta’s face. April decided he had questions but didn’t feel free to air them. Instead, he asked something safer.
“This is quite good,” he said, lifting his plate to indicate he found all of it acceptable. “How can you get greens so crisp and fresh? It took me four days to get here with the fastest connections I could find. Surely, freight goes slower.”
“Just about everything here came from the Moon,” April said. “Heather makes independence a primary goal. The only Earth goods here are likely grains for bread and the olives. Produce doesn’t go standby, it has dedicated priority flights.”
“Even the prawns?” Gupta asked surprised.
“Tank raised and fed things that otherwise would be waste and hard to recycle,” Jeff said. “They are raised in much cleaner conditions than Earth prawns or shrimp. They’re scavengers you know. What they eat in the wild is as disgusting as chickens. We haven’t wanted to get into the complexities of maintaining a saltwater environment for shrimp.”
Gupta sighed. “It sounds like I should go see this Moon colony myself. I hadn’t planned on spending that much time.”
“There’s never enough time for everything,” April lamented.
“That’s exactly why I intend to live up here,” Gupta revealed. “I’m fifty-two years old and I’ve had all the legally permissible fixes and tweaks to stave off heart disease and cancer, and I have no desire to need the treatments to evade dementia. I want the full life-extension treatments. I can’t put it off forever. If I stay on Earth, I have a limited number of years left. There are places I could push the legal envelope and have more done but I can see the danger of being trapped by changing law and circumstances so I might lose my freedom to travel and to emigrate.”
“I understand,” Jeff agreed. “I’m operating under the assumption I have more than the usual lifespan to accomplish things if I don’t do something stupid. We want to move even further away from Earth and are working to do so.”
“Yes, I know the French went to the nearest star,” Gupta said, “but there and back is like crossing the Atlantic ocean in a rowboat. It establishes it can be done in principle, but is still a long way from making colonization a practical matter. Still, it is encouraging.”
“We’re ahead of them,” Jeff said.
“Really?” Gupta said, very interested.
“Really. Now, you will probably ask for proof,” Jeff predicted. “But I don’t care to offer any right now. You’re welcome to regard my free advice as worth every centum you paid. You don’t really know me, after all. If you want to move to Home or the Moon just be aware that in my opinion, you will have access to such travel when it becomes available here sooner than from Earth and on better terms. As you said, it isn’t practical yet. If you want to get away from Earth why not take the first logical step right now?”
“This is where I am used to getting an investment pitch,” Gupta said warily.
“We’ve already diluted our interest as far as we care to, with partners we’ve known for a long time and with whom we share common goals,” Jeff said. “We don’t want further dilution. Our partners are all life extended too. We don’t have to worry if they’ll be around in a decade or two. Maybe some years down the road after you have had your life extension treatments and make the mental adjustments to that, we can talk.
“I predict if you do move here, and learn to do business in this community, it will change everything for you. You will be busy for years just moving your active business and assets away from Earth. We have a friend who came into a fortune back when we separated ourselves from North America and he still hasn’t completely succeeded in doing that. You never have safe possession of anything still down there where Earth governments can take it by taxation or outright seizure.”
“That is unfortunately true while one is still living there,” Gupta admitted. He took the opportunity to return to the hot side of the buffet, getting some Swedish meatballs.
“I’m not changing my interest in acquiring a place on Beta,” Gupta said, gesturing forcefully with a meatball on a fork, “but I am intrigued by the possibility of breaking one of these huge properties you describe into rental units that are of limited scope. I can’t imagine everyone is interested in owning the volume beneath them to unlimited depths. People on Earth readily buy land with mineral rights and riparian rights withheld. I’m definitely going to obtain a copy of the purchase agreement for one of these properties and explore carefully if there is any prohibition on subdividing it.”
“The safer course of action would be to simply ask the sovereign if she has any objection to doing that,” April said. “If you have her explicit permission you are golden. You two could just add an addendum to the purchase contract to that effect and initial it in case one of you fails to seat their helmet someday.”
“We usually say, In case one of you steps in front of a bus,” Gupta said, amused.
“Do you want to ask her right now?” April offered. “It’s the middle of the day and not her court day. She’ll probably take a call if Armstrong isn’t invading.”
“If such a thing can be done without an appointment,” he said, uncertain.
“If you were calling her public number cold, her secretary Dakota would put you off until she had your credit history and whatever is floating around on the web about you. She’s a bit of a control freak, but Heather needs someone to do that. The sovereign of a small nation does get some very weird com calls, but Heather is our partner, so of course, we can call her directly.”
“And you are sure you don’t need to screen me to protect her?” Gupta challenged.
“Irwin isn’t in the habit of bringing vagrants around. We had our intelligence guy inquire of his earth contacts and local assets while you were coming over,” April said. “He likes to show off by telling us more than we asked. I stopped reading it once I saw you aren’t deeply tied to any weird political movements and aren’t linked to the kinds of businesses we’d find morally repugnant.”
“Forgive me if I fail to explore that right now,” Gupta begged, “but is there anything of which I should be aware that your partner would hold against me?”
“She tolerates but dislikes gambling,” Jeff said. “As far as other addictive behaviors she has expelled a couple of drunks from her domain. She reasons that when an alcoholic returns to drink he is dead sober when he decides to take that first new drink.
“I have no deep craving for either, so perhaps we will find each other agreeable if you wish to go ahead and introduce us.”
“House, page Heather and ask her if she can talk. Put it on the big screen.”
After a few seconds, Heather appeared leaning back into the corner of a big sofa. She was dressed casually in a soft long-sleeved top and her lower body not visible. Her pad was set to the side face down. Whatever she was working on interrupted to take their social call on a bigger screen.
“Ah, Dr. Gupta,” she said with a nod, eliminating the need for any introductions.
“You clearly have the advantage of me,” Gupta said. “I know very little about you.”
“We can delay speaking until you can research me if you want. You are with the two people who know me best, but they may display bias in my favor. Let me assure you there are plenty of other biographers available less flattering to me.”
“I’ll pass on that for now if you would just tell me how you knew me by sight.”
“One of our recent additions, who partners with our primary intelligence officer, saw my partners requesting a report on you. He operates with the primary rather loosely and as a peer. He covers Europe better than our older fellow who specializes in Asia. His personal style is to not follow set procedures as rigidly, so he told me about it in case I wanted to see the report before it came in buried in the full morning brief. He anticipates things happening, rather well, obviously, since here you are,” Heather said.
“Indeed, the man sounds like a treasure. I have a news briefing created for me and several of my executives daily, but I’ll admit it discomforts me that you sound more like a military organization than a corporation with blunt talk of intelligence operatives.”
“We hire spies,” Heather said even more bluntly. “No point in trying to pretty it up with weasel words. I’m sovereign over a kingdom. Let me assure you, no kingdom lasts for long without some military capability. I’ve conducted military operations against both North America and China and I’m still here. My partners share some of those capabilities and some of their own that they have used against other Earth powers. I suspect you have not researched us sufficiently if I need to be telling you this. Home has no legal provisions for corporations to exist and I never intend to let that legal fiction take hold here.”
“Yes, I can see that despite striving to be skeptical, I believed what is presented in Earth news reports too readily, as have the people advising me. I’ll try to research these things myself now.”
“Which means that wasn’t the original purpose of your call,” Heather said.
“No indeed, I wanted to inquire if you would sell one of the large parcels of land in which you deal, knowing that as the owner I intend to subdivide it both in the area and in its depth, into smaller units?” Gupta asked.
“I’m surprised nobody has already,” Heather said. “I assume they are held back by the same factors I am. If you divide a large volume into many parts you need to provide utilities and services. Power, air, potable water and sewer service, elevator access, surface access, large tunnel transport and industrial sewer and disposal. Trying to let each owner provide their own utilities kilometers from the surface is unworkable. It runs into the same problem in reverse that a very tall building on Earth has. The lower levels are dominated by express elevators and service easements after so many stories.
“If you create a system with economies of scale it’s a vast investment. If you build on a smaller scale it becomes even more expensive to upgrade later. When you have to replace a two-hundred-millimeter water line with a meter waterline you never recover that investment even if you fabricate it from durable materials and reuse it. The disassembly storage, transport, and reassembly dwarf the simple cost of the pipe. It’s much the same with all of it. You recover some from services beyond sales or rent by charging for things like elevator lift. But your buyers or renters don’t care what you have as sunk costs. They will only look at what someone else would charge for the same service as a startup. I’m doing well to finance the supply, the major roads, and defense that large landowners demand. Eventually, fees on those services will pay off, far in the future. But for now, it runs well ahead of anything I can charge.”
“I’m used to developing large projects,” Gupta said. “Nothing of what you said surprises me except the economy with which you explained it. I’m planning to move from Earth to Beta so I can have the full Life Extension Therapy. That will allow me to tackle projects with such a long pay-back period. After speaking with your partners, I wanted to know primarily if you would have any objections to such a project. Indeed, if it would interfere with your plans.”
“No, no objections in principle,” Heather said. “However, I do not intend to expose my subjects and residents to an absentee landlord on Beta, who isn’t experienced with our ways of doing business or assimilated into our culture. We have plenty of territory within our claim markers. There will still be lots for sale later. If you still want to do this sort of project in a couple of years come back and talk to me. I don’t want to have a big mess to clean up if you bungle it.”
Gupta looked at Heather thoughtfully and finally nodded agreement. “Nothing up here was exactly what I expected, including you. I can’t remember the last time I was told I needed any qualifications to invest beyond having the funds. It may take me more than two years to figure it all out, but thank you for setting your terms. Your partners have been quite kind to me too, and I appreciate that.”
“Since you mentioned having some expectations shaped by the news outlets, I’m curious what you expected?” Heather asked. “We watch North America and China very closely because they have set themselves against us. And we are developing allies elsewhere. But we don’t always know how the rest of the world views us.”
Gupta looked embarrassed. “A lot of Indians still favor the BBC. The Indian news services are less kind to spacers. Even though we have our own launch industry, there is a feeling we have lagged in manned flight by not having a habitat. I’m afraid the resentment and being disrespected, colors their attitude towards others. I try to maintain a skeptical attitude, but it’s hard when you only hear one side.”
When Heather didn’t press her question but just looked interested, Gupta forced himself to say a little more. “I’m afraid they don’t take you seriously. They make jokes like they would about a tiny island nation that gives itself the airs of a great power.”
Heather looked amused rather than offended. It was April who laughed out loud.
“I’m sure they would feel the same way about our ally Tonga. They have two of the plots Heather sells and likely more people in space than India, but they certainly put on no airs about it. They are just quietly establishing themselves and making sure it is not a drain on their finances for prestige, but solidly profitable. In the future, they will have a significant body of personnel who know the space trades and culture.”
“Tonga? I had no idea,” Gupta admitted.
“Tonga has the ideal of a basic right to real property that they weren’t able to fulfill for a long time due to the reality of their population density. They are correcting that to the extent they can by offering cubic here. I won’t grant them sovereign status,” Heather said, “but anyone who comes here will retain a right of return as will their descendants. We hope and intend to eventually offer them other territories that will be a real sovereign extension of Tonga.”
“Off, separated from your holdings?” Gupta asked. “Is there that much unclaimed lunar area to establish a separate holding?”
“We plan on being much further away than the Moon,” Heather assured him.
“Oh,” Gupta was not stupid. He put that together with Jeff’s comment and didn’t ask for the obvious to be confirmed as others might.
“None of this alters my original intent to buy a residence on Beta. It just confirms it is a good idea for more reasons than I thought. Thank you for briefing me,” he told Heather and turned and nodded to include her friends.
“I’ll show you the rest when we’re done eating,” April promised, “but if you can, get a place looking toward the inside of your ring like this. You’ve surely noticed how the view changed several times as it rotates. The light and shadows play back and forth. Sometimes, as the hab orbits around a center point, the Moon is visible too. It’s much nicer than an outside unit.”
“Yes, and that’s a level of realism someone might not have felt important to capture in a virtual walkthrough. Thank you for thinking of this, Irwin.”
“My pleasure. Just remember me please, when it comes time to open local accounts. I intend to have new offices on Beta, and Gamma too, as soon as they are open.”
“But of course we’re open everywhere with virtual offices,” Jeff reminded him.
And that is what passes for cut-throat competition locally. Gupta thought.

Chapter 5
Dr. Holbrook was a broad-spectrum polymath. Despite being socially irritating, like so many brilliant people, he valued others as sources of information. They often had no idea what they held. If you just found the proper key, you could bring it forth. You simply had to input the search in the proper format. Some people could be word searched like a paper. Some people had even wider matching abilities if presented with images. Even if they were partial, wildly distorted, or noisy images.
Since the device he was examining didn’t make any sense at all to him, he went fishing in other minds to find some direction to pursue. He had an image of the alien device, taken by non-invasive scanning. It was frustrating him by making no sense. They were far too early along to start cutting pieces and altering what they had. They hadn’t even risked cleaning the Martian soil off other than a light brushing. The tech he approached was one of his senior techs, an older fellow who not only worked with electronics professionally but as a hobby and private interest since elementary school.
Holbrook approached him at his workbench and stood, not pressing him too closely. The fellow knew he was there. He appreciated the same sort of respect for his personal space and attention when others interrupted him.
When the man sat the device in his hands down, laid the probe on the bench, and tipped his optical visors back to look at Holbrook, he held up his tablet with a grayscale image quickly, and asked, “What do you think this is?”
Martin frowned at it, eyes flicking back and forth. “There’s no scale,” he complained.
“No, consider it an x-ray. The darker contrast corresponds to density.”
“Do you have a scan that differentiates conductor and insulator?” Martin asked.
Holbrook tapped at the pad a bit. “The false colors are orange for conductive materials, red for metals, and blue for insulators. Contrast addresses resistance.”
He showed the man again. The fellow was unimpressed with the miracle of sensor technology displayed. Instead, he requested, “Please do a slow rotation and flicker back and forth between the two scans.”
That was a sufficiently complex request that it took Dr. Holbrook a bit to instruct the computer working remotely for the pad what it should do. Martin waited patiently.
After the screen displayed a couple of full rotations Martin requested, “Speed it up a hundred times.”
Holbrook was skeptical. That would put the flicker rate well past the ability of human perception. Still, he had this much time invested. He did as Martin requested, and let it cycle through that presentation one time for himself. It didn’t do anything to inform him any better, but he showed it to Martin.
Martin stared at it unblinking for several cycles, nodding his head to some rhythm that Holbrook could not imagine related to the video. Then he closed his eyes and kept nodding for a couple more of the cycle periods. Holbrook decided that meant he was done with it and killed the display.
“Is this device about a meter on the short side?” Martin asked.
“No, considerably smaller than that,” Holbrook demonstrated with his hands.
“There is a duct-like structure I’d have assumed was a waveguide. The fed end seems to have some sort of transducer. But the output end has floating reflectors at the mouth instead of a horn. They serve no function I understand. If it is so small it would have to be operating at millimeter wavelengths and we don’t usually try to fabricate waveguides at those higher frequencies.”
“What sort of transducer?” Holbrook demanded.
“Like none I’ve ever seen,” Martin admitted. “The back end appears to have an optic fiber going in, then a jumble of shapes, and a weird adaptor or transition with a reverse tapered probe sticking into the guide. You’d probably think of that as an antenna. But the backstop wall behind it isn’t just a flat wall, it’s a complicated shape. Damned if I know why.”
“Anything else that doesn’t look customary to you?” Holbrook asked.
“Bring up the x-ray again so I can point at it,” Martin requested.
“OK, backtracking the optic fiber it comes out of this round thing that looks like a highway roundabout with a D20 in the middle. There’s one fiber feeding it but two coming out. One to what I’m pretty sure is the output I already described to you. The other one goes over here and is attached to the sort of dumbbell shape that’s empty, or pretty close to it if the x-ray is to be believed,” Martin said tracing it with a finger.
“What’s a D20?”
Martin looked at him oddly. “A die with twenty faces.” When Holbrook didn’t seem to get it, he made a shaking and casting motion with his hand.
“Oh, OK. But that other fiber doesn’t have any adaptor thing with a probe sticking out of it at the end,” Holbrook objected.
“Nope. It’s such a small simple connection I’d bet it feeds the light into that cavity without any processing,” Martin guessed. “It may have a tiny lens inside that sleeve.”
“To what end?” Holbrook wondered.
“Got me. If it comes back out it has to go back up the same fiber. There’s no other connection. I’d say if you want to know, go feed some light down that fiber and see if you get anything out of the waveguide.”
“But I don’t see anywhere to power it,” Holbrook objected.
“Neither do I. Maybe you need to feed a lot of light down that fiber,” he speculated.
Holbrook thought about that and nodded his thanks. “Maybe, eventually, but we are far from doing any active experiments that could alter or damage it. I’m going to write up your speculations and post them internally for the research group. I’ll post this scan for everybody to view too.”
“Doc, when you figure it out let me know, OK?”
“If and when, I’ll let you know,” Holbrook promised.
* * *
“Linda Pennington took the morning shuttle to Home,” Dakota told Heather. “She decided to accept your offer and requested connections through all the waypoints to North America. She intended to ask you directly but I assured her I could authorize them and send the pass notices to her pad. I figured she might have one last snarky jab she couldn’t resist dropping on you and I didn’t want to be responsible for that.”
“Thank you, I think I’m past allowing her to provoke me to murder, but why test it again? Do me a favor, however, and drop a text on Mo’s children warning them she is passing through Home.” Heather looked back at her work screen, but she was frowning and not seeing it.
“Hold on that,” she told Dakota suddenly. “Are any of the flights beyond Home refundable and did you get confirmation she actually boarded?”
Dakota looked horrified. “I assumed she left since she requested passage. That’s my bad. All of them are refundable including this morning’s lift on the Morris shuttle. I’ll check their status right now.”
Heather just read some news waiting on Dakota, not even trying to work while she waited to hear if Linda scammed them out of the fare.
“She did board the morning shuttle,” Dakota reported. “While I was at it, I checked with housekeeping. Pennington took a couple of bags and left everything else in the corridor with a sticky note that says “FREE” on the wall behind it. If she intends to cash out any of her fares, she hasn’t done it yet. None of them show as canceled.”
“Good. I’d still like you to text Mo’s children, but tell them their mother is arriving on the Morris shuttle and we believe she is continuing to Earth as she is holding tickets. I don’t know that she’d try to create problems for them, but with her, you never know. She may intend to pass right through to Earth but sit and stew on it the flight to Home and decide she’s been mistreated again and has to do something about it.”
“OK, I’ll do that right now,” Dakota said, happy Heather didn’t seem to think she’d errored too seriously. “How did a nice man like Mo ever marry that sort of a person?”
Heather looked up, but Dakota was already looking down sending the texts, so it was a rhetorical question. That was good, because she wondered the same thing.
* * *
Vic wasn’t entirely happy with the level of noise the wagon made. It was loaded down with soft containers so the bottom didn’t act as a sounding board but it was amazing how quiet everything was now, since The Day. Waking up in the morning one heard the birds and walking along the road unseen small creatures could be heard scurrying away from their approach. The slightest breeze could be heard sighing through the treetops when it wasn’t strong enough to be felt at ground level. Even the insects buzzed and clicked loudly with no traffic noise to cover it up.
It wouldn’t matter except when they passed the Olsen’s. They started early before dawn so they should all be sleeping. He’d creep by extra slow so the wagon didn’t rattle for a hundred meters or so near their house.
Caution made him space them out further from each other on the road than they’d done other trips. The wagon was too heavy to let Vic take point and have Eileen pull it in the middle. Reluctantly, because it made sense, he allowed Alice to take point because she was small, could retreat quickly. He had to admit she had a real knack for walking silently. They had no indication her hearing wasn’t as keen as theirs and an important factor was that she wanted to do it. She stayed ahead as far as practical, stopping occasionally to let them catch up if they threatened to fall out of her sight around a curve, and to listening for anyone approaching from their front.
After a couple of hours of doing that, Alice stopped and let them catch up.
“There’s a man ahead of us. He’s just a little slower than us and I’ve caught a peek of him twice. Once the road was fairly straight and I could see beyond him a few hundred meters. He seems to be alone and he has a big backpack on that sticks up behind his head and makes it pretty hard to check behind him. What do you want me to do if he stops and takes a break?”
“You stop too,” Vic decided. “We’re going to make the festival early with no trouble at all. If he stops, we’ll waste a little time to take a break too, and wait to see if he moves on. If he has some problem and doesn’t continue, we’ll approach him but all three of us together. He’s less likely to be aggressive with three people than one. If he’s carrying such a big pack, I’m guessing he’s taking trade goods to the fair.”
“We three look more like a family than a bunch of outlaws,” Eileen pointed out. “If it was three men approaching, he should be much more worried.”
Vic looked surprised. “You’re right. I was about to say we’d approach in a line to make it harder to see how many of us there are or that you two are smaller at a distance, but trying to look stealthy would be worrisome. We should line up near side by side if we must approach and pass him. Eileen in the middle just a few steps back so if we do have to run for cover, we don’t get in each other’s way.”
“It’s a plan,” Eileen agreed, but by the time Alice took point again, he had moved on. They followed him the rest of the way to Mast’s fair, where he disappeared in the crowd.
The first thing Vic did was look for John the chicken farmer. He was right where he’d been in the fall, so that was easy. He was set up with a grill but hadn’t started a fire yet. He also had a wagon but it was a child’s toy wagon, cut in half, and extended by a long plywood box. That let it hold three big coolers none of which were alike.
“I have your eggs and the manual,” John said. He had a boy with him who looked to be ten or eleven. He didn’t introduce him and the boy was quiet.
“That’s good, John. I tell you what. We haven’t set up and the Woodleighs didn’t come with us this year. If you want to camp together, we can guard each other during the night and take turns watching our goods in the day,” Vic offered.
“That sounds fine to me, but be aware Carl here is a year or two short of being able to take a watch,” John said.
“That’s fine,” Vic gestured at Alice. “I’d have Alice stand a first watch or the last watch in the morning, but not in the middle of the night.”
John looked her over, noting she was armed and got an unwavering poker-faced stare right back from the girl. It didn’t take him long at all to decide that Alice standing a watch was OK with him. A curt nod acknowledged that to Vic. His boy, Carl, didn’t appear to feel slighted by that.
“Do you have a tent to set up?” John asked. “I have a tarp and two poles and intend to do a lean-to. That’s why I set up on the edge of the woods like this.”
“If the weather holds, we’ll sleep in the open,” Vic said. “I get nervous if I in a tent and can’t see all around me. That’s why I favor hammocks in the woods but we have too much business to do this time. We brought so much we need to set up in one place and be visible to sell this time, not just walk around and do deals.”
Vic inquired if John knew the Olsens, but he shook his head no when Vic described them. John couldn’t even place their house though he had to have passed it. There were lots of old mailboxes still standing but at the ends of driveways to abandoned homes.
John had long thin stakes in the ground with a bright yellow cord strung knee-high from one to the other in a half-circle around his wagon and goods. His grill was set up in the middle of that arc and business conducted there.
“The roll of rope is over there by the end stake,” John pointed. “If you want to cut a couple more posts from the woods you can extend my boundary out further to make it clear we’re together,” John invited. “The rope is long enough.”
“I’ll do that, and across the back of us on the wood line of you don’t mind.”
“I should have thought of that,” John admitted. “Pick a couple of trees by each end and use them to string it a bit higher. If it’s strung up waist or chest-high they can’t say they didn’t see it, can they? I’ll show Eileen your stuff and how to care for it. You guys are getting an entire small cooler to take home. It keeps the eggs warm. I don’t want to risk repacking and losing them. Next festival I’d like the cooler back though.”
When Vic was done, they were fenced off in an approximate half circle. He looked around. The lawns were filling up steadily, though most people wanted to be near the lanes Mr. Mast marked off with stakes, leading to his barn doors or by the outhouses. A few sellers set up clear down by the road, hoping to get customers when they arrived before they started wandering around the crowd.
He saw the ex-deputy, Arlo, strolling around looking at the displays of goods without picking anything up or showing much interest. When Arlo looked up, he locked eyes with Vic but didn’t give any sign of recognition. Vic took that as a hint and stopped staring at him.
A passing man did recognize Vic and came over to the rope. “Mr. Foy, do you by any chance have any of those bigger nails left? I’d be interested in a trade for some.”
“Come on inside and I’ll show you what I have this time. I took down another old outbuilding and saved all the hardware. I have things at home I didn’t bring too.” He was an older man and Vic didn’t insult him by offering a hand but stood close to help if he had any trouble high-stepping over the boundary rope.
“I’m going to the outhouses,” Alice informed him.
Vic looked for Arlo but didn’t see him. Neither was Eileen in sight when he looked the other way. He’d have walked Alice there if he didn’t have a customer, but it would look very strange to ask her to wait.
“I don’t see Eileen around to go with you,” Vic hinted, craning his neck.
“I think that’s where she was headed,” Alice said. She was already climbing over the roped-off area and Vic decided to let it go. The grounds were thick with people everywhere now, the entire route to the outhouses. It wasn’t like an Olsen could snatch her away in the middle of a crowd.
“I have seventy-three of the big sixteen penny nails,” Vic told the fellow.
* * *
April’s com dinged. It wasn’t urgent but it was the tone that said it was a friend. She set aside her reading material and checked. It was Dr. Ames, better known to her as Jelly.
“My favorite doctor,” April greeted him. “Do you have a new gene mod for me?”
“Alas, you have attained human perfection, and I can’t improve on you.”
“Human, sure. Surely you can transcend that with hooves or something,” April suggested.
“The Chinese will be happy to take your money,” Ames told her.
“They might get confused and disassemble me into retail parts,” April worried.
“Sooo sorry, wong patient,” Ames said with a fake sing-song voice and looked genuinely distressed. That would get him ten to twenty years as a hate crime, mocking tonal languages in North America or Europe.
“You should have been an actor,” April said.
“Aren’t we all?” Jelly asked, suddenly philosophical.
“Nah, lots of people can’t even tell a lie keeping their mouth shut,” April said. “Jeff and Irwin both shout what they are thinking on their face. But you didn’t call about that. What’s on your mind tonight?”
“I called to brag. You got me started, modifying mushrooms and such for the Cabbage Mines. I wanted to show you this first. This is my latest project and likely my biggest success.”
He held up a translucent square container. There was a uniform mass of growth media and roots in the bottom. The golden colored plants sticking up from that were only about a hundred millimeters high but had an impressive head for their size.
“Some kind of grain?” April asked but her face was screwed up in thought.
“Not some kind, wheat!” Jelly zoomed his com camera out, set the container down, and plucked one of the grain heads. After he rolled it hard between his hands, he held it up to the camera to show her the liberated berries.
“How can such a tiny plant possibly yield that much grain?” April wondered. “I mean, leaves are like little solar cells, right? They can only absorb so much energy to support the chemical process.”
“Photosynthesis, yes, yes. I’m so proud of you. You cut right to the heart of the matter. They would indeed grow stunted and sickly out in the open in an Earth field. These however are gene-modified to have a higher density of those components that do the conversion. They also put less energy into their structure as a consequence. Indeed, besides not fruiting in sunlight at natural levels, they would lodge easily in a gentle wind. They are fragile. However at lunar gravity in a sheltered environment, with five times as much light at critical frequencies, they thrive.”
“We’ll have bread, no matter what happens with Earth,” April realized.
“We already have other grains,” Jelly pointed out,” but wheat is such a part of our culture. I don’t doubt eventually we’d have grown the Earth variety as a luxury, no matter how dear. This lets you grow it in about a quarter of the volume.”
“Will this be all that less dear with your royalties?” April wondered.
“If I’m not reasonable about it, flour isn’t that expensive from Earth. I intend to take the long view, as I’ve seen you three do. It means we can take wheat with us to the stars in and other habitats and planets. In a hundred years it may be a huge cash flow. I’m not so impatient I insist on making an immediate killing. It’s an investment. I learned a lot from it too. You need two sets of tunable LEDs for this variant to get optimum growth and protein yields, because it needs two different frequencies of light. We’re developing ways to know when two or more bands are needed.”
“Life extension has changed how long we are willing to wait on a return,” April agreed. “So what’s your next big trick?”
Jelly laughed. “That left you impressed for all of ten minutes, didn’t it?”
* * *
Irwin came to the employee entrance down the corridor from the bank’s public doors. He could see a fellow standing there but it was well before opening time and he had no messages or requests for an appointment. He had no desire to look desperate for business or get tied up dealing with something before his coffee. He loaded the machine and set it to work brewing before he went out to his desk.
The man outside was Asian. Irwin wasn’t familiar enough with the small regional differences to guess what nationality or sub-region. He was compact and dressed casual-expensive, but definitely Earth garb, with a courier bag strung under one arm. He was young with the little tells that Irwin saw and understood much better than his ethnicity which marked him as genuinely young rather than looking younger from life extension therapy. He was remarkably patient for one so young, not pressing forward to the door when he saw Irwin or checking the time.
It was still a few minutes before 0900, but he didn’t want to look like an unthinking rule follower, so he unlocked the front doors from his desk and gave the man a wave to come in. The fellow had an odd gait walking to Irwin’s desk and took a seat when Irwin waved at it.
“I have coffee brewing and am going to go get myself a cup,” Irwin informed him. “May I bring you a cup or some other refreshment?”
“I’d welcome a coffee, but before you waste too extravagant a welcome on me, I’m just a courier from Mr. Sajit Gupta.”
“If you have the trust of Mr. Gupta for whatever he needs you to do, I will extend the same courtesies to you, as his hand, as I would to him,” Irwin assured him, getting up.
“Thank you.” The fellow seemed to have a little culture shock at his treatment.
The man’s disclaimer interrupted Irwin’s train of thought. He originally intended to pour a couple of mugs, then realized he hadn’t asked if his guest took cream or sugar. Rather than go back to ask, he put the full service on a tray. They kept several sets for entertaining clients with coffee or tea and he picked the German porcelain in stark plain white. To him, the graceful form was art better unadorned. Irwin disliked clutter.
A few rapid blinks from him suggested the young man was not used to being treated so well, but he seemed to calm himself pretty quickly. At least he had the sense to let Irwin pour. He added some cream and waited on Irwin to take a sip before he tried it. When he did, he gave a nod of appreciation, and said, “That’s very fine, thank you.”
Irwin didn’t set his back down to get to business. He intended to get some caffeine in his bloodstream and quickly follow it up with another cup. He usually used a half-liter insulated mug.
“So, are you bringing me something from Mr. Gupta or do you wish to convey something back to him?” Irwin inquired.
“I have an item of deposit and a letter. I was told to expect you would send a return document also.”
He leaned over and got in the courier bag with both hands, awkwardly depositing a four-hundred-ounce gold bar on Irwin’s desk small face down, to allow it to be gripped.
The letter was in an unsealed pale green envelope and the paper inside proved to be the same, written very informally in flowing longhand, with an old-fashioned pen.
Irwin,
Please take this bar as a good faith advance deposit toward an apartment on Beta such as we discussed after seeing Miss Lewis’ home. Whatever account form is customary, hold it for that purpose in my name. If you need further funds as construction advances please let me know and I shall advance them. Due to legal difficulties with your currency here I would appreciate a generic receipt be returned with my man, not one denominated in solars.
Sajit
The informal style seemed to indicate Gupta not only accepted the personal and informal way spacers did business but intended to dive right in and adopt it as his own.
Irwin got a sheet of letterhead and a soft point pen. He lacked a pen with a nib to match Gupta’s eccentricity, but it still had more style than running it off a printer.
Sajit,
Thank you for your deposit. I am holding one good delivery bar in earnest towards the purchase of private cubic on the Beta hab when those contracts are available. As you are the first customer to confirm your intent to buy, I shall see that you get the first choice. The bar will be regarded as an interest-bearing deposit account. Consider this your receipt. If it seems vague, I did so in consideration of possible legal prohibitions. I’ll send this back with your courier.
Your Servant, Irwin Hall
There, he avoided specifically mentioning gold, Irwin thought, satisfied. He wrote things out by hand so seldom he wasn’t thrilled by his penmanship. If he started over, he doubted it would look any better. He folded the letter and put it in a plain envelope. Was he laying it on too thick with the close? He decided no, and handed it to the courier.
“Another cup?” Irwin invited, pouring another for himself.
“Yes, thank you. It’s a treat.” The fellow seemed relaxed finally.
“Do you have to stay over, or is there a return shuttle you’ll catch?” Irwin asked.
“I’ll make a return connection through New Las Vegas in six hours. I only have an hour layover there, I’m sorry to say. I will take a quick walk and see what I can of it.”
“You were waiting when I arrived. I’d think you’ll want a meal before you have to make your shuttle. The cafeteria is just down the corridor if you haven’t seen it. Tell any of the cafeteria ladies to put your meal on Irwin Hall’s account and they’ll be happy to do that,” he offered.
“I’ll go do that right now, thank you for your hospitality,” he said draining the last of his cup before he left.
What a self-effacing young man, Irwin thought. He never did mention his name.
* * *
Alice didn’t have to wait in a line for an outhouse. It was the first day and people were still arriving. Later there would be a line in front of all three. Some brilliant young boy was selling bundles of dried moss, but Alice waved him off since she didn’t need it. She wondered what he was asking in trade because there was no convenient way to pay for very small purchases.
By the time she came out, three men were standing in a circle, talking and waiting for her door to come open. The one facing her looked up and nodded, so the one with his back to her would be aware it was open. The man turned and looked at her hard. She was already so different from the thin child in rags he remembered that he almost didn’t recognize her.
“It is you!” he said, hand shooting out and grabbing her arm. “What the hell are you doing here?” It was the youngest Olsen brother, Ben.
Alice tried to jerk loose, but he had too good a grip. She managed to twist away but couldn’t break his grip. It just hurt more since it made his thumb dig in. He didn’t seem to see the tiny rifle hanging off her neck strap or discounted it. She grabbed the cocking knob on the end of the bolt with her free hand and jerked it back. When she turned around, she lifted the rifle one-handed and jammed the muzzle in his crotch.
Because the muzzle was pressed into him with no gap, the report was a muted cough. He not only let go of her, he pushed her away, so they both fell. She rolled to get away from him before she sprang up. He thrashed around in pain, curled up with both hands clasped between his legs. He wet himself but it was bright red bloody urine.
Alice was terrified, her heart pounding, and breath ragged, but she worked the bolt and inserted a new cartridge in the little single shot rifle rather than run. She was raising it to put another round through his head when a hand came around her shoulder and firmly pushed the little gun down.
“He’s already a dead man,” Arlo said softly, lips right by her ear. “If you shoot him again folks won’t understand or forgive it. They can let the first one go, because he put his hands on you, but not putting him down like a dog after you aren’t in danger. Besides, it wastes a cartridge.”
“You’re right,” Alice agreed. “Thank you.” She turned away to show she wasn’t going to target him again, and looked down, attending to making the cocked rifle safe again.
>BOOM< >BOOM< behind her scared Alice, and made her jump. If she hadn’t just emptied her bladder, she’d have voided it on the spot.
Arlo was slowly looking around with a big pistol in his hand. The other two men who’d been waiting for the outhouse were standing very still. Everybody nearby was frozen in place. The Olsen patriarch was face down sprawled over a shotgun and the older Olsen brother was sprawled staring at the sky with a pistol still in his hand.
Arlo scanned again over both shoulders. There were all sorts of weapons draped across shoulders and holstered but nobody seemed disposed to touch them. He walked over to the still moaning man Alice shot and relieved him of a pistol tucked in his waistband before he holstered his own.
“Olsens?” Arlo asked Alice.
“Yes, that’s the father John and the oldest boy named after him,” Alice said, “but they always called the boy Jack. The middle brother, William, might be around somewhere,” she realized and looked about anxiously. Her hand went back to the cocking knob without even looking at it.
“They might have left him home to guard the place,” Arlo said, “but walk around with me and we’ll see if he is here.”
“What will you do if he is?” Alice asked.
“I’ll tell him if he wants to live to start walking down the road and keep going until he’s sure I will never see his face again. Those two didn’t pull their weapons until they saw you. As far as I am concerned being an Olsen is evidence of belonging to a criminal conspiracy. I’ll be generous not to shoot him on sight.”
Young Ben Olsen on the ground finally stopped moving. Alice looked stricken at that despite her earlier intent to finish him off.
Arlo stopped only to relieve the Olsens of their weapons and ammunition, then said, “Come along.” He offered a hand to Alice and gently led her away. Mr. Mast was arriving at the scene and said, “I have this,” in passing to Arlo.
They made a slow meandering circuit of the grounds, finding several people who knew who the Olsens were but none had seen the middle brother, William.
“Let’s go talk to Vic and find Mr. Mast again,” Arlo said. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to go visit the Olsen homestead. We’ll see if we can all do it while you are this close instead of having to double back from home. I want you to come along.”
“Why do you need me?” Alice asked, uncomfortable again.
“Whatever they took from your parents’ house you should be allowed to recover as much of that as we can carry for you,” Arlo said. “If William is there, let him take whatever of theirs he can carry, but you should have the pick of what remains. You’ve been treated sorely enough you deserve that little bit. Does that sound fair to you?”
“Very fair, there are some things I hope I can find, but the things I can’t use I want you or the Foys to take if you can use them,” Alice insisted.
“Thank you. Let’s get back to Vic. He’s probably worried,” Arlo said.
Alice nodded, but wondered why he thought Vic would be worried, but not Eileen.

Chapter 6
“We have some idea what the device is supposed to do, but elements are missing, so we can’t reproduce it and build a working copy for ourselves.”
Martin pursed his lips in thought, regarding Doctor Holbrook. “Tell me more.”
“The consensus is that it is an advanced radar set. The optic to millimeter-wave adaptor will be very useful if we can figure it out with more detailed scans or even trying to disassemble it. The actual waveguide and aperture may hold significant secrets for us. The odd hollow shape would appear to be a very low loss optical storage. Most of us now agree it is a quantum radar unit. The problem is the processing unit is absent.”
“Somewhere that severed optic fiber went to,” Martin guessed. “Is there any chance you could apply pressure to the Martians to examine their records of where this unit was removed and send us whatever the other end of the fiber connects to?”
“Unfortunately, the side on which the fiber exits, isn’t a face neatly cut from the ship. It’s the abraded surface ground away by sliding for kilometers across the Martian surface. Whatever was there is smeared in tiny shreds and particles mixed with several tons of other machinery and hull and internal structure across the rocky plain and exposed for millennia to sun and weather and burial in dust. There’s no possibility of recovering any one part of it,” Holbrook said.
“So we have two-thirds of a puzzle and won’t be able to use it until we are smart enough to figure out how to process the signals ourselves?” Martin asked.
“Pretty much, but the light storage, in particular, is a huge advance. We have never had storage stable enough to consistently maintain entanglement beyond orbital range. We can’t reliably detect the objects at the distance of the moon from Earth with a low power quantum radar. That also explains what we noted before, that there is no separate power feed. That small connector at the end of the fiber must convert the light source to millimeter waves without any amplification. The best guess about the device is that its output is only about five watts.”
“One would assume a radar on a starship has to deal with astronomical distances,” Martin said. “To do that with five watts is mind-boggling. You wouldn’t know an alien was out there, painting you with this thing.”
“Indeed, after you’ve mulled it over a bit, if you have any thoughts on how the missing processor might work, don’t hesitate to text me,” Holbrook invited.
* * *
“Jeff, you might be interested in what Diana just sent me from Hawaii,” April said.
“A fresh pineapple?” Jeff asked hopefully, coming over and sitting down.
“You drop a shuttle there often enough to arrange that yourself,” April told him. “This is just an image on her message telling me she got home safe and our homes aren’t smoking craters. This is the new coin Hawaii just minted to mark their independence. I’ll put it up on the big screen.”
“I thought she just returned to Home,” Jeff complained. “She must be doing OK to afford the shuttle fees the way she flits back and forth,”
“I got the impression she was doing more than OK the first time I met her in Hawaii,” April said. “I’m assuming you didn’t give her any hardship discount to rent your apartment after Linda Pennington finally vacated?”
“No, good point. I charged full market rate and she didn’t twitch at it,” Jeff said.
The coin shown on Diana’s hand was gold with a bold high rim and the image of a man with an elaborate hat and a cloak or cape. It said KALA - twenty-five grams - .9999 - KULA just inside the rim beneath him.
“Is that panel down his front some sort of armor?” Jeff wondered.
“With so much area unprotected? I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell what it is from the relief on a coin, with no color or texture. I have no idea what it is,” she admitted.
“Well he does have a spear,” Jeff pointed out.
“Aren’t you upset they are copying the solar?” April asked.
“Shucks no, I wish everybody would. It would make monetary exchanges so easy. I sort of assumed right away that Diana suggested it to her buddy in their government.”
April looked surprised. “She might have for all I know.”
“Did she show the reverse?” Jeff asked.
“No, just the obverse.”
“Ask her to show us that. Better yet, tell her I’d like one. I’ll gladly pay a premium on it as a collectible,” Jeff offered.
“I’ll tell her when I reply,” April promised. “She’s trying to get me to visit. I haven’t seen some of the things they finished at my house, but I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”
* * *
Vic was relieved to see Alice in the distance, coming back with Arlo. He’d considered going to the toilets to try to find her when he heard shots fired. The trouble with that was she could come back here looking for him and find him gone. He missed having cell phones. Even the few people who had the cheaper little walkie-talkies were having them break down or the batteries die with no replacements to be had.
Vic had one of the better handheld radios he’d bought from O’Neil to listen to the local radio net from before Eileen lived with him. The back of it opened with panels on each side to charge it in direct sunlight. It was bigger and heavier than he cared to carry to the festival. Like most, he didn’t have a license to use it. It still didn’t have enough wattage to reach the station that used an illegal power booster and high antenna to run the local news net.
It seemed a huge expense to get the little short-range units that clipped on your belt for the twice a year they’d use them at the festivals. He’d need another solar charger or use up his homemade batteries faster to charge them. But Vic reconsidered. They could call between the house and the barn too, couldn’t they? He put those thoughts on hold when Alice and Arlo stepped over the rope.
Arlo immediately told Vic the full story of what happened. Alice looked anxious, staring at Vic intently to see if he got upset or showed signs of disapproval. She looked so concerned Vic put an arm around her shoulders without interrupting Arlo. Alice wasn’t one to initiate that with him, but today she welcomed the reassurance.
“Nine-millimeter?” Vic asked Arlo. He nodded yes, aware why Vic was asking. Vic pulled a spare magazine from a pocket, thumbed four rounds out, and handed them to Arlo. It was only right to make a replacement for the scarce resource and a thank you for expending them.
“When do you want to go to the Olsen’s?” Vic asked. “Right now, before the middle brother expects them back, or wait until the festival is over?”
“I want to talk to Mr. Mast, but I figure to do that after. The second day after works for me, if he and you agree,” Arlo said. “No matter what we think of them they may have friends or allies who will alert him. Folks with young ones use them as runners, and somebody may well be running there as we speak to warn him.
“I’d like Mast to come along if he volunteers, but he can hardly do that while his place is full of people. Right now, I expect he’s busy hiring somebody to bury the three we just shot. Folks are hunting him down to ask questions and do deals all the time. He’d be missed quickly.
“That’s fine it’s, safer than us passing again if he might be watching for his kin to return. Then we can go on home and you and Mast can come back here,” Vic said.
“Yes, but on the other hand, if he does get warned he’ll expect us there the day after the fair ends. I’d rather wait until the next day and he lets his guard down a little. The day after the fair he might even go out and set an ambush if he thinks we’re coming,” Vic warned. “From what Alice said none of them seemed of a temperament to keep something like that up for long. Especially with nobody to relieve him in shifts.”
“I have no trouble with us staying an extra day,” Vic agreed.
“We’re thinking the same then, subject to discussing it with Mr. Mast,” Arlo said.
“Who is going to pay you and how much?” Vic asked, always practical.
“Mast was willing to pay me before we ever came to talk to you. He said you know that he has political aspirations, not for office but as a kingmaker. I’m willing to work on the cheap because I want some influence with him and maybe even a real law enforcement job in the future. Alice promised me that what she doesn’t want of her family things we can divide between us. I’m not above looting the Olsens. I’d like any ammo and weapons at the house that are theirs,” Arlo requested. “I’ll need them when I can deputize people.”
It was Alice rather than Vic that agreed. He hadn’t expected that but nodded thanks.
“Oh, this is yours too,” Arlo said and offered her Ben Olsen’s pistol.
“Why?” she asked, not reaching for it. She looked repelled.
“It’s a custom older than firearms or even Western Civilization. If you defeat someone in honorable combat his weapons are forfeit as your trophy. If it bothers you to see it, trade it off. It represents more wealth now than a lot of folks attending here have.”
Alice had to think about that a bit but in the end, she nodded and took it.
* * *
“Mr. Hall, I’m Henri Colombe. We met at dinner in France.”
“Certainly, Monsieur Colombe. I remember you well.” Irwin also remembered he’d seemed rather cold and skeptical of Jeff and Jeff’s associates. Even though it was Jeff who had extended an invitation to call anytime he wished to discuss banking, it was instead Irwin he was calling. The lag between speaking and Henri’s visible response said he was still on Earth.
For some reason, there was a ding, ding, ding of an alarm sounding in the recesses of Irwin’s mind. He smiled pleasantly at the man, but was already sliding a pencil back and forth through his fingers. Something he did as a stress reliever. People thought he was taking notes and felt good that he assigned their conversation that much importance. In reality, he doodled fantastic creatures, fragments of ancient movie scripts, and odd nonsense lyrics from early TV used to sell soda and razor blades.
As Henri inquired about the progress on Beta, Irwin scribbled paisley creatures with big eyes, Zen-doodle fields of geometric shapes, and in careful script, Danger Will Robinson, danger! He made the exclamation extra dark and circled it all. What was bothering him so? It came into sharp focus suddenly.
People on Home were not above name dropping and flaunting influence. They were human after all. It simply wasn’t quite as structured as Earth. Colombe should be reminding him they met at the Prime Minister’s home because that enhanced his status. If he wanted to emphasize the social aspect over political considerations, he still would say they met at the Durand’s. Why wasn’t he doing either?
Irwin mentioned a few milestones in the progression of Beta’s construction. That was easy to relate since it was all things he’d told others recently. All the while, he was thinking furiously on why Colombe had disassociated himself from the Prime Minister. Or was he avoiding any mention of France itself? That should be easy to find out.
“Were you interested in Beta as an investment or as a personal residence?” Irwin asked. “I made that mistake recently with another gentleman. I’m afraid I subjected him to my standard investor’s sales pitch only to find out he simply wanted to buy an apartment for his own use. He was rather kind about correcting me but I still felt silly.”
“For my personal use, certainly. I’m surprised you still have any room for general investors,” Colombe said. “If it was a high-rise apartment building, I’d think you’d be at the stage you had all the street-level commercial space leased and a big billboard out front saying there are residential units for sale. I’d like to get in before all the desirable units are spoken for.”
“It’s true, many of the business spaces were designed for specific customers,” Irwin admitted. “Including a high g cubic sited and drawn to spec for a branch of our bank. I do have one gentleman who put a deposit down to have the first choice on a residential unit on a full g corridor. We’re not as restrictive as most Earth cities with zoning statutes. There isn’t a strict division of residential and commercial unless there was a noise or mass issue that would encroach on their neighbor’s quiet enjoyment. Or dual use for that matter. I’d be happy to accept an earnest deposit to reserve the second choice for you if you wish. It’s early enough to give you a choice of equivalent units.”
“What is a suitable deposit?” Colombe asked. “I’ll arrange transfer if you will grant me that reservation status pending receipt.”
“The first fellow volunteered a four-hundred-ounce bar. That seems like a good enough token to make standard,” Irwin decided. That at least finally elicited a few extra eye blinks from the fellow. Whatever his personal wealth, a standard bar was nothing to be sneezed at.
“I’ll arrange for it to be shipped,” Colombe promised.
Now that the deal was sealed, Irwin could try to dig a little deeper to see if his misgivings had any basis. He wanted new business but not if it was shady or outright criminal, and that’s what his inner voice had been telling him about this from the start.
“I’m surprised you didn’t look to acquiring a property on the Turnip,” Irwin said. That was the unofficial and much shorter name most applied to the French habitat due to its shape. “It has more a French culture and uses your language. It’s also closer so you don’t have this irritating lag to do business. It’s not as if the North Americans and Chinese are a threat, constantly snipping at the French like they did us.”
Colombe waved that away with one emphatic sweep of the hand when he replied. “They aren’t shooting at us right now, but I regard the entire Earth as a less stable region I don’t care to stay near. I want a clean break from Earth law, even French law, and all my attachments to the past when I leave. I don’t plan to stay active in business with Earth, to need good quick communications.”
“That’s fine then,” Irwin said. “Beta should suit you.”
“Very well,” Colombe agreed and disconnected looking satisfied.
Irwin hadn’t wanted to keep questioning him further but Colombe’s answer raised more concerns than it answered. Colombe was in his fifties by his appearance, young for a man of his station. Irwin needed to find out his exact age and a lot more. He was at the peak of his career and there wasn’t anywhere to advance. The head of the European Central Bank wasn’t going anywhere soon, and was pretty much a figurehead now.
The previous head of France’s Bank had remained at his post for a couple of decades and there seemed no reason that Henri Colombe could not do the same if he wished. Right when he was ‘sitting pretty’, as Irwin’s mother used to say, he was subtly disassociating himself from their present administration and planning his exit. It smelled.
He’d have to investigate what Colombe made and if he had unexplained wealth beyond his earnings and smart investments. Perhaps he had inherited wealth and all of Irwin’s misgivings were wrong. But it felt like the man had his hand in the till, the way he wanted to be beyond the reach of French law.
Irwin did regard that as his business. He didn’t want to be associated with a crook, didn’t want to be responsible for bringing such a person into Beta. Besides that, he’d taken a liking to Joel and knew that a scandal in banking would attach to him and his administration even if he was personally uninvolved and unaware. That would be a shame. Irwin would give Joel a back-channel heads up to audit him if Colombe still looked dirty a few days from now. If he was innocent, and Irwin in serious error, it would simply be an inconvenience to him. The harm done would be more to Irwin’s reputation with Joel, so he wanted to be certain about the matter.
* * *
“The Martians have another device ready and a load of people to go into exile,” Jeff said. It was amazing how ‘Martians’ sounded like a curse when he said it.
“We have some of the machinery ready. Have you given some thought to how you are going to deliver it?” Heather asked.
“Yes. I realize it’s too hazardous to be unloading heavy items that have to be lowered with the crane. The hold will be packed with suits to the overhead too. That will make it slower to unload. There’s simply no way to take off if they decide they want to capture the ship. You can’t just drop something so close to the ship it may damage the aft portion. It’s nice to set down on a paved surface, but I think this time we will do a dirt landing a couple of kilometers from them. We’ll let the dust settle and unload before they are welcome to approach to load our payment and passengers.”
“I don’t see why they couldn’t walk a couple of kilometers to the ship,” Heather said. “It’s not like we are evacuating medical cases. It wouldn’t cut into their suit reserves enough to be a concern. But if you are in overwatch do ask April if she’d feel safe doing the landing that way.
“We did the first mission ourselves,” Jeff said. “I feel if they were going to betray us that was when it would have happened. Now that we’ve shown how and personally mitigated some of the risks, we have people experienced at it. I was going to suggest letting them carry on. Our time has value after all.”
“You have that much confidence in them?” Heather asked.
“I’ve always had that much confidence in our people,” Jeff insisted. “It’s the bloody Martians in whom I have no confidence whatsoever.”
“OK, let’s do it that way. If April still wants to do it herself, I’ll back you in dissuading her from it,” Heather promised. “Are Gunny and Mackay contracted to provide continuing security?”
“The company is, not them personally. They’ll send whoever is free. I’m betting one of them comes though. They like showing their people they aren’t about getting their hands dirty and overseeing new jobs just like us. That’s why we got two of their partners on the first trip. Also, I understand a lot of people want to be able to say they’ve been to Mars. I’m not sure there are a thousand yet who can say that.”
* * *
“What’s that?” Eileen asked. She pointed at some yellow bars. It looked almost like butter but she knew better. Whatever it was, it seemed to put her off for some reason.
“Beeswax,” Vic informed her. “We got a little honey too, but it was very dear. I had to promise some glass jars next festival to get any at all. I didn’t realize some of the old jars for stuff like mayonnaise use the same thread as canning jars. The bee guy, Holmes, looked at me like I was an idiot for not knowing that. We’ll order some more lids and rings from Nevada if O’Neil doesn’t carry them. I saw him earlier, and we don’t need to go see him for at least a month to get our other stuff.
“Honey is nice but what is the wax good for?” Eileen insisted.
“Waterproofing, as a lubricant on stuff that slides or rubs, to make thread pull easier or for homemade floss. You can seal up eggs with it to make them keep for months. It was cheap because I got it for the little finishing nails nobody else wanted. I’ll leave everything like that here when we go to the Olsen’s, and pick it up on the way back home. We’ll take a couple of empty hand wagons to help haul stuff back. You can stay here too if you want. You aren’t experienced enough as a shooter to use you for that by choice. Besides, we have three very capable shooters going to confront Bill Olsen. We’re going to maintain a hard pace getting there too.”
“Yet you’re taking Alice and expect her to keep up,” Eileen pointed out.
“Yeah, I’d rather not, but Arlo wants her to identify her family’s things.”
“I want to be there to support her. She isn’t going to be comfortable with three men, even if she won’t come right out and tell you that. I want to advise her on what to take in salvage too. I might have a little different take on that than you guys,” Eileen said. “All I need is for Mr. Mast's guys to watch my eggs and warm the water packs in the sun.”
“Suit yourself,” Vic agreed, dropping the idea pretty easily. “I had another interesting trade,” Vic said, lowering his voice a little. “A fellow asked if I had any .22 ammo. I admitted to little, but not enough to want to be trading it. He looked around all nervous like somebody might overhear and offered gold nuggets in trade.”
“So we’re not the only ones doing a little panning,” Eileen said. “Did you trade?”
“Do I look like a fool?” Vic asked. “He was offering an even trade, weight for weight. We have lots more gold we can pan out on our land but no source of more ammo.”
* * *
Johnson was the command pilot this time with Deloris sitting second. She had more hours in superluminals but he had more landings. He’d also landed here before even if it was on their paved apron.
The terrain – marrain? – two kilometers to the west was reasonably flat with scattered rocks but no boulders. Besides being safe for their landing it shouldn’t present any problem for the Martians to walk out to them. It was passable by rover if they didn’t feel they could walk.
After that possibility was discussed they decided rovers approaching would be acceptable as long as they stopped a hundred meters out and displayed no mounted weapons.
The landing raised a tremendous cloud of dust, far more than they expected. That it drifted over their entire facility was unfortunate, but something they had to deal with to a lesser degree all the time.
Deloris didn’t say anything, but couldn’t or didn’t want to repress a chuckle when the dust settled and the horizon had a distinct tilt.
“Oh come on,” Johnson objected. “It’s not like we’re going to fall over. I’m not going to lift us and reposition unless the camera shows us tottering on a rock that might shift and dump us. We aren’t in any danger until about twelve degrees.”
“I’m looking at each pad carefully,” Deloris said, taking his statement for a casual order. The pads had holes through the footplate that made it easy to see the surface beneath it.
“None of them seem elevated above the surface,” Deloris admitted after a couple of quiet tense minutes. “There’s just a dip in the land on the side opposite the Martians. The crane is on the proper side and the tilt is only about four degrees. It doesn’t tend to pull us over and there shouldn’t be any trouble bumping the load against the lower hull.”
“Good, they’re already going to be irritated we dumped all that dust on them. Let’s try to get both machines on the ground before they get out here,” Johnson requested.
Since the Martians were already concerned about their aging infrastructure the water harvesting machines were self-propelled. For Mars that meant six flex tires and a decent AI to guide it by orbital maps and avoid local obstacles at close range. It could avoid any falls or rollovers, or avoiding entrapments that would require backing up. With the data from previous generations of autonomous rovers, it was a much simpler program than the typical delivery vehicle needed in an Earth city.
Gunny had Dan Holt with him on this trip. He was a full partner having come into the security company with Christian Mackay at its formation, but younger and much less experienced. Gunny still had the rank of experience on him and was the lead for the job. Dan was thrilled to get a chance to visit Mars in any capacity.
Gunny rode the first machine down standing on top, with one hand around the cable. He had the app in his suit computer to control it and moved it away from the base of the ship even before the cable was retracted back up to the hold.
“We are in communication with them,” Johnson informed them as the second machine was being lowered. “They’ve been reminded to bring the boarding ladder we left behind and told to keep any vehicles a hundred meters away.”
“Are you keeping eyeballs on them to make sure they don’t have any obvious heavy weapons mounted on the rover?” Gunny worried.
“Deloris is doing that and is instructed to fire on them without discussion if they try to pull a fast one. They aren’t going to chat their way in while she is objecting.”
“Good. The first trip here I was open-minded, but the young fellow they sent out left me sure he was a creepy fanatic,” Gunny said. “If that’s who they sent to deal with me, I figure it doesn’t get any saner as you go up the chain of command.”
The vehicle that approached was a flat-bed rover with people piled on the back, roof, and hanging off the boarding steps like Gunny had seen pictures of trains piled with humanity in Asian nations. They all jumped off and had the requested ladder, but waited near the rover and didn’t approach yet.
The one suited figure that walked over turned out to be the same Lieutenant Hoffman he’d dealt with before. The difference was this time he didn’t press Gunny and he had the next artifact they were receiving in payment in his arms to save time. Gunny was surprised he learned and made things go smoother instead of playing games.
Hoffman knew the drill on examining the alien artifact from before and didn’t complain while Gunny scanned it. This package was longer but smaller in cross-section.
One final package came down on the crane. It was the first of the most critical fabber feedstock the Martians were short and six of the suits they’d promised to return. They only had room for six of them this trip strapped in a bundle with no packaging. Gunny suggested Hoffman take that last drop over to their rover. He demurred and called an underling from the rover to retrieve it.
The package Hoffman delivered to them was not much over half a meter long and only about twenty-five centimeters square in cross-section. Gunny hefted it to gage its mass and called out, “Hey, Dan, heads up man.”
When Dan leaned out the open hatch of the hold and called, “Yo?” Gunny tossed the package to him sideways. Hoffman took a step back in horror and watched the package make its leisurely journey to the hold where Dan snatched it.
His concern amused Gunny. The scan showed a substantial tube well packed. If it survived being slammed into the Martian surface and a kilometers long slide across the boulder-strewn plain to a violent impact with a mountain, a little jostling wasn’t going to hurt it. Not even if they dropped it.
“These are the apps to control the machines,” Gunny said, waving at the pair of low-slung vehicles that looked like off-road quad machines with no saddle. “They will run on suit controllers, pads, or even high-end spex,” Gunny told him. He offered Hoffman two memory chips.
Hoffman took them but frowned at them in distress.
“We aren’t allowed to plug outside memory into shared devices,” Hoffman said.
“No skin off my nose,” Gunny assured him. “Make one of your IT guys walk out here with an air-gapped hand pad to verify them for all I care. Go ahead and mount your ladder and board them just like last time,” Gunny told him. It went smoothly without needing to say another word. He did notice they had exactly as many as fit the last trip with no extra. Not that he cared. By the time Gunny rode the crane hook up, the rover was well away headed back to their habitat, so there was no rush to get to their seats and lift. The new machines were following so Hoffman had either decided to use the app or gotten an OK.
Johnson was explaining what his passengers could expect. “I’m not going to pressurize the hold. We aren’t going to be in transit long enough to pump it back down even if I started on doing that right away.”
“Oh, Thank God,” a woman’s voice said on the suit frequencies, and she started those deep wrenching sobs one seldom hears.
“I told you to come,” a male voice said earnestly, trying to calm her.
“Ma’am, I have no idea what I said to upset you,” Johnson said confused.
“You didn’t upset me. You relieved me,” she said. “If you pressurized the hold, I would have figured you were going to get high enough and open the hatch to blow us out. Several of us have tried to send messages to our colleagues who left on your last flight and none of us have been able to get a response. I only came because it seemed to at least give me a chance. Staying didn’t seem like any chance at all.”
The man spoke up again, but addressing Johnson, not his friend.
“We’ve had two people killed under very unlikely circumstances and three who have just vanished and nobody in authority will discuss what happened to them. I’ve been scared that I marked myself to be disappeared for asking about them.”
“I assure you, nobody intends you any physical harm,” Johnson said. “I can’t speak to how your own countries will treat you and what your political or financial status will be once you are repatriated. If you have any concerns about that you are welcome to return to Home or the Moon with us rather than continue on to Earth. A couple of your people did that when we took the last group back.”
“Do you know how that worked out for them?” another voice asked.
“I’ve no idea,” Johnson admitted. “It wasn’t something I’d be concerned about. We always need skilled people. There’s a constant labor shortage but in honesty a concurrent housing shortage and high prices. It’s always like that in a boom economy.”
“I can deal with that better than going back to Austria,” the new voice said. “From what my brother in law said it’s a continuing slump there.”
“Just speak up to my guys unloading you, and don’t exit when we dock,” Johnson advised him. “Now, I need to lift this thing before they wonder why we aren’t leaving and come back to check. I’ll give you further instructions underway. Hang on, I’m lifting at twice Mars standard. I know you folks are used to weighing less.”

Chapter 7
Arlo looked at Alice with genuine shock when she asked why he didn’t use his privilege with his primary customers to get horses for them.
“You have no idea how valuable a horse is. I will borrow one when there is need, but I’d never think to take one where it might come to harm. I’d rather catch a bullet and hope to survive than have one shot from under me. Whenever I do borrow one, it’s like having the loan of a rich man’s Ferrari before The Day. You’re constantly cautious and aware you don’t have the means to replace it if something happens. It’s not like in the old days where everything was insured and replaceable. It will take years of breeding before there are enough horses. I won’t be surprised if motor transport comes back first. When is the last time you were on a horse?” he demanded.
“Uh, I got to ride one when I was about twelve,” Alice admitted. “It was at a riding stable with school mates. They promised me it was a pretty gentle horse.”
The skeptical look he gave her suggested it wasn’t a good idea to pursue that idea.
Arlo and Vic took turns on point. It was tiring and good to switch off if you had a qualified partner, Vic explained after they switched and he dropped back to walk with her. She was pulling a mostly empty wagon as far back as she could be and stay in sight. Mr. Mast brought up the rear pulling another wagon with a few supplies they would use up and a long-range weapon. He was older and slower and said he needed the extra time to reach cover being in the back would give him.
“Arlo didn’t seem to be upset with me when it was his turn to drop back and walk with me,” Alice said.
“Why would he be?” Vic asked.
“Well, you know, the horse thing,” Alice said.
“Alice, if you are still stewing on that, let it go. If Arlo didn’t want and intend to treat you very well, we wouldn’t even be on this expedition. You aren’t going to like me reminding you, but you are still a kid. He expects you not to know stuff. I expect you not to know stuff. It’s not because we think you are stupid or evil, it’s because you just don’t have a lot of experience.
“He explained very nicely why we are walking instead of risking valuable horses. It’s easy to forgive you for not knowing that. The thing you need to know is this. He will be put out with you and form a much lower opinion of you if you keep asking why we aren’t riding and pushing the idea after you had explained to you why it’s not possible.”
“Oh my goodness. I wouldn’t do that,” Alice said. “I’m already embarrassed I didn’t figure it out on my own and asked something stupid.”
“You aren’t stupid. You’ll get better at figuring it out on your own. Just be aware some people never learn those lessons. They never grow up. You’ll have to learn to just say no to those kinds of folks. Some, there’s just no explaining it to them.”
They walked along in silence for a way, Alice thinking on all that.
“OK, some stuff I didn’t understand about my mom and dad and our relatives is starting to make sense now. I haven’t really thought about some of it in a long time. My mom’s family was always in trouble, always asking my folks for help. They’d call or beat on the door in the middle of the night. Every time that happened my folks would talk about moving away. Finally, they did.”
Vic just acknowledged that with a nod and didn’t say any more until Arlo stopped and let them catch up to switch off again.
* * *
“April, I have something I am trying to investigate and finding it well beyond my capabilities,” Irwin confessed. “Is there any possibility you would slip my inquiry in with your other items of interest as a favor to me?”
“I’m not sure, Irwin. You already owe me two ‘Big Ones’ and this is getting a little one-sided. What have you done to investigate on your own, and why does it have to be slipped in as you put it? That phrase makes me uncomfortable.”
“I hoped you would slip it in among your other requests so it isn’t linked to me until I reveal it. All I’ve used so far are public records. The matter impacts Joel and his government. I’d like to be sure I’m the one taking the tale to him if I decide it’s a real concern, or be able to withhold it entirely if I decide I don’t want to stake my reputation on it. If you regard Joel favorably it is something that should be supportive of him. I thought from our visit and how that went that he might have your favor. It’s something you might well have taken up yourself if it had come to your attention.”
“You know I use the same intelligence people as Jeff and Heather?” April asked.
“Yes, which is just an example of how many people will know if you are running a case for me openly, but I’m told you have your own sources too. Word among the worker bees and beam dogs is that you solicit random facts sent to your com code and pay good money for the bits you find useful. Though nobody can figure out exactly what will yield a payout. People are left wondering if it was the report that an unusually large shipment of filter media went to the Turnip, or that Jon had breakfast with the head of Takeda Pharmaceuticals that resulted in a hundred bits being dropped into their account. It’s the craziest system I’ve ever heard of, frankly.”
April sighed. “You almost convince me to demand my reports be exclusive. But people love gossip so I doubt most of them would honor it. They’d rationalize telling their spouse or business partner as harmless. Look, I’ll tell you right up front that’s not how it works with our investigators. I never try to keep our agents in compartments, like Earth agencies. If they have no idea why they are investigating something, you get endless unrelated garbage in their reports. You entirely lose the value of their insights and initiative. I suppose with trillion-dollar budgets paying a hundred people to filter all the unrelated stuff out you can do that. It isn’t very efficient and the ugly truth is you still end having to trust somebody. We just are very selective and trust a few people from the start. I’m sure you know we trust Jan and Chen, but we don’t always know who they use, especially on Earth. We trust them to decide what to reveal to the people they handle directly. If you want us to find out something for you, figure as many as a dozen people are going to know what we are seeking. Besides, I already know the matter that would impact Joel involves the French National Bank,” April said.
“How… could you possibly know that?” Irwin asked dismayed.
“I’ve had an alert set for anything on Colombe since he convinced me over dinner he was prejudiced against Jeff and is a sneaky little weasel. His secretary just arranged for his wife’s secretary to do some very secure shipping of an item from Switzerland to be delivered to you personally. That was a sloppy insufficient cut-out. It’s being escorted on a doesn’t leave your sight basis, by an Earth Security firm which on its rough end tends to be equivalent to a mercenary outfit. Yet the manifest is impossible to keep secret if it’s not your private shuttle and people all the way. Their entire itinerary is searchable once you have one hard data point that it’s going to take place.
“It is too unusual and crosses far too many desks not to leak somewhere. You have three shuttle services and two transfers. You have the lift mass, hazard classification, package dimensions, and the fact that two agents are escorting it to allow bathroom visits and such. Their time seniority with the company and the fact they are so paranoid they bought tickets for a third seat to carry safe drinks and food tells a bit more about the likely value. I had three separate reports something odd or valuable was being moved and ended up paying out three grams to the reporters, and a couple more grams to people they know, to keep the reason from being traceable if they compare notes.
“Now, I have no doubt his secretary is paid well, but I doubt he has the sort of personal wealth to be doing this level of business or need this kind of security. So it is for his boss. The object of all this has to be precious metals or art of a value level to include things regarded as a national treasure. I know you offer that sort of secure storage, but in that case, it would be the secretary to the national archives or a cultural commission arranging the shipment. So a London Good bar or platinum ingot it is.”
Irwin wanted to ask if that information came to her only by her private system of snoops and spies, or her shared assets, but doubted she’d answer. How could she filter all the flood of tips she solicited? She certainly didn’t have a trillion-dollar budget.
“They haven’t even informed me when to expect its arrival,” Irwin complained.
“And they shouldn’t,” April said. “That would give someone a precise time and place to set up an intercept.”
“They should have just sent it like any normal item of freight with an oversized box to hide its density or carried by a single trusted courier as carry-on luggage,” Irwin said.
“And there is proof you are smarter than Colombe,” April said.
“So you are already looking into it on your own?” Irwin asked.
“Yes, but our purposes may not be the same as yours. What do you want to accomplish, so we can tailor the gathering of information to serve that end?”
“I want to make Joel aware if the head administrator of his national bank is crooked and stealing so he can avoid a huge scandal that will weaken his administration. Does it look that way to you?” he asked.
“I can’t think of any other reason he would own and hide a small Swiss refining operation through his wife. But if you are going to be the one to break it to Joel, we want at least some credit for aiding the discovery. You’ve made it easier already, but I’d like you to tell me what else you know about this scheme.”
“Monsieur Colombe promised to forward a four-hundred-ounce bar in earnest on the purchase of a residential cubic in Beta,” Irwin said. “He was blunt and careless in revealing he wishes to be beyond the reach of French law or Earth law in general. I could not see how that was an innocent requirement for an early retirement.”
Irwin looked at her funny. “How has any of this made your investigation easier?”
“Because, Irwin. Now we know you aren’t part of the conspiracy,” April said.
* * *
“Habitat National, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot out of Central, Commander Johnson ID number 921-00-8673. We are in a chasing approach from trans-lunar space. We should match the outside envelope of your control volume on a tangent in about twenty minutes. Requesting clearance to approach and dock on your mast. Please advise security we have twenty-four passengers requesting transit through your station to points on Earth, mostly European nations. We are retaining four passengers and crew to proceed on to Home. If you can arrange to process these passengers to release us to go on our way it would be very much appreciated. The only problem is they are Martians being involuntarily released. They should all show up in Earthside databases with biometric data, but they are carrying no ID.”
“Dionysus’ Chariot, I show no flight plan for you. Are you arriving from Home?”
“No sir, we are arriving from Mars surface direct. I didn’t request clearance to leave their control volume. We do not regard Mars as a friendly port, and Deimos that houses Mars local wasn’t even in my sky when I lifted, so I have no idea if they filed an exit report. The people we picked up are in distress and we regard them as refugees. That’s one reason I came to the Tur… to the Habitat National. France has a good reputation for properly processing refugees.”
Deloris gave him a silent thumbs up and made a face for his laying on the praise. It would ruin that to fail to help them on open public records since traffic control was all done in the clear.
“Indeed, we have specific instructions for us to notify security for such events. I thank you for giving us numbers so we can arrange officers and guides to meet your people at the lock. I have the first dock port open if you’d care to take that slot. It will have a red flashing beacon. Would you please escort your people or send a representative to meet security at the lock?”
“We have two security officers of our own aboard who facilitated the loading. They’ll control the egress and know how to interact and help with their peers I’m sure,” Johnson said. “Thank you. I’ll take that port and check again from the edge of your control volume. Dionysus’ Chariot, end transmission.”
“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, don’t you?” Deloris said sweetly.
“Indeed, you can with some people. If they allow it. The first load to ISSII April didn’t try. She dumped the passengers on them and scooted before they realized we didn’t just drop something in the UPS bin. April didn’t reveal to me until after that she’d been warned to expect some attitude out of the new head of security there. If she wants to take that risk as an owner that’s fine. I’d have played it straight even if they held me up a day or two. That would be on them not me. They can play games with your license.”
Deloris just nodded. Johnson had been painted a wild man to her, but not in everything. Why hadn’t April told him what she intended? Was she testing him?
* * *
Arlo and Vic switched off again, Vic taking the lead. Alice was comfortable with Arlo now and relaxed, not wary. He looked at her with brief puzzlement. Something was different but he wasn’t sure what. Alice wasn’t about to explain since that would involve bringing up everything that she wanted to let go now.
They lost sight of Vic around a curve and he was partway down a straight stretch when they came around the curve. Suddenly he squatted in the roadway. There was no cover anywhere close. Far ahead another figure came from around the next curve and continued a few steps toward them before seeing Vic. He too froze briefly, though he didn’t squat. The downhill side was rugged and steep. The distant figure picked the other way, scrambling up the face of the road cut and disappeared over the edge and out of sight.
Vic retreated about halfway back to them before he stopped and hunkered down again scanning above him. He was aware the man might be visible again partway up the hill, or he might turn parallel to the road and continue towards them. Either one could put him in an excellent position to fire on Vic. He did neither, eventually appearing way up the hill near the crest, still motivating to get far away from them. Vic couldn’t see him from below the cut so Arlo waved his hat and started up again to move forward.
“He’s high-tailing over the crest of the hill,” Arlo said. “We were in sight behind you, so he knows there are at least us and who knows how many strung out behind us.”
“Was that the Olsen brat?” Vic asked Alice.
“I don’t know. He was too far away. He was skinny enough to be William and he had jeans and a sort of dirty green patterned shirt like that. But I couldn’t see his face. Men with beards all kind of look alike to me from very far away,” Alice admitted.
“Why would it be him? Arlo asked.
“The rest of them should have come home yesterday, so I thought maybe he was coming to see why they didn’t show up,” Vic said.
“OK, that makes sense.”
“He dropped something in the road up ahead. Maybe it will give us a clue.”
“Poke it with a long stick,” Arlo warned him. “It could be a booby-trap.”
“You’re paranoid, and I’ll cut one right now,” Vic agreed.
Then Mr. Mast caught up and they had to explain everything.
“No boom,” Arlo said. He sounded disappointed.
Mr. Mast was standing away across the road keeping an eye on the hill.
The sack had a pair of well-worn socks, a plastic sheet all balled up, not folded, and a plastic water bottle, mostly full.
“That’s their water bottle,” Alice said. “Or at least they had one just like it.”
“Want any of it?” Arlo asked her.
Alice just made a face.
“I’m just going to leave it right here then,” Arlo said. Vic nodded agreement.
“Let’s space out again,” Vic said and started walking. It was too early to switch.
* * *
Jeff, April, and Heather were all together again, enjoying a quiet supper. Heather’s housekeeper, Amy, was dismissed for the evening to give them some privacy.
“I have a really tough decision to make,” Jeff said.
“Take the apple,” Heather advised. “That leaves more of the blueberry for me.”
“Done, but my mind was on other stuff. Has Dakota said anything to you about her daughter Annette?” Jeff asked her.
“Rarely. Maybe two months ago she went over to Camelot for a couple of days to see her. She didn’t have any stories to share when she came back. She doesn’t chat about family stuff.”
“She’s been administrator there well past the agreed upon time. She informed me she didn’t intend to make it a lifetime career and I’d better start looking for someone to replace her,” Jeff said.
“We have about three times as many people at Central as when she started. There must be somebody with the skills. If you want to bring somebody in from Home I don’t care. I leave Camelot up to you. It wouldn’t ruin my day to have them go their own way. It’s not like they contribute much economically to Central. I’ve never demanded a cut of the casino earnings because I don’t approve of it. I know you can’t legislate morality, but instead of washing my hands of Camelot, now I find myself dealing with Martians too.” Heather said. “I’d rather not associate with either of them, truth be told.”
“I have several people in mind who I could put in charge there. My bigger problem is what to do with Annette. She’s sworn to you. I was hoping maybe you’d have some idea how to use her.”
“What did she say?” April asked him.
“She didn’t volunteer any preference at all,” Jeff said. “Just to leave Camelot.”
“And you didn’t ask?” April demanded.
“Ohhh,” Jeff said, suddenly sheepish.
“People aren’t components to rip out of one socket and plug in another,” April said. “I swear, just when I feel we’ve socialized you, you do something like this.”
“The young woman is quite bright,” Heather said. “If you don’t offer her something attractive, she’ll have no trouble finding work from me or others. Dakota has a family property and she could just work at developing that or start her own business.”
“I’m asking what to do, aren’t I? I know that about people. I thought maybe Dakota might have lobbied Heather for her because she is her daughter. She might be just as ready to leave off working for me as she is to leave Camelot, and too polite to say so.”
“I’d regard it as a hardship post,” April agreed. “Not because of you though.”
“That’s part of the problem. I feel like I’m sentencing someone to work there more than assigning them. If I send somebody I value there, it may alienate them from me once they find out how difficult and unrewarding it is. I still don’t have anybody for the job who speaks Mandarin.
“We’ve tried to dilute the Chinese population there by bringing in others and they quit at the end of their first contract. Annette got them to be self-supporting with the casino, but I’ve never been able to get a critical mass of outsiders there to start up a different industry like manufacturing. Anything like that the Chinese invariably feel is suitable for peasants and they won’t touch it.
“I have a bunch of people who all want to be administrators and no workers. It bothers me too that they treat the few people who will get their hands dirty like... well, like dirt.”
“Why don’t you let it go?” Heather asked. “I’ll release any sovereign interest.”
“When China and I came to terms and they ceded the colony to me and I felt responsible for it. You are responsible for conquered territory under international law. Even if we are not signatories to that, I think it is a reasonable point of law. We did cut it off from their control with the L1 limit. I’m reluctant to just irresponsibly walk away from it with no benefit. We’ve wasted so many hours on it there should be some reward. If I knew then what I know now, I might have just forced them all to go back home to China and shut it down.”
“It’s a classic white elephant,” Heather said. “The Chinese benefited because it was the sort of thing big countries have for prestige. Any country who is anybody has to have a Moon colony just like they have to own at least one aircraft carrier, a national airline, an army with fancy uniforms, and a bunch of buildings with big columns and steps out front. There must be some middle-size country with the rest of the toys you can sell it to who want to impress their friends and allies. Don’t just walk away, sell it.”
“I thought about selling it to them,” Jeff admitted. “But the numbers just aren’t there. They make enough to pay their way but not enough margin to pay me anywhere near what it is worth for the whole, and how would they settle who has what interest in the common infrastructure?
“I had some investors to start up the casino, but none of them were interested in taking it over even after it was profitable. Instead, they have begged off and asked to be bought out one by one.”
Heather raised her eyebrows but Jeff didn’t get the message, making her say it.
“Maybe they were all perceptive and you should heed the collective opinion.”
“Oh, actions speak louder than words.” He finally got it.
“They’re from a classic low trust society and would cheat and obstruct. You’d never get paid what they agreed to anyway,” April predicted. “I’d walk away from the housing aspect of it. Give them their homes and sell off the casino and the infrastructure. The casino business has obvious value and you can sell the power generation and environmental support. The new owner can charge all the residents utility fees to recoup that. You just have to install meters. Not that I don’t expect them to try to bypass them and steal the services too.”
“I like it. I won’t feel I am abandoning them. They get title to their home for nothing, so how can they possibly complain? They never had any ownership of it under the Chinese. I could heartlessly sell it to somebody who would start demanding rent. The new owners and they can have the joy of each other.”
“You’re selling it with a vast improvement from when you got it,” Heather pointed out. “As much as I dislike gambling it would have been an impossible money pit if Annette hadn’t developed the casino. You should give her a chunk of the sales price if you get a buyer. She earned it and deserves it.”
“And whatever you do, don’t self-finance,” April said. “Cash upfront. If they need to get a mortgage let them go to the bankers.”
“Earth bankers,” Jeff said. “I don’t think Irwin would touch it. I’d advise him not to.”
“You should tell Annette what’s happening and use the opportunity to ask her what she wants to do next,” April insisted. “Even if she has something in mind already it shows a personal interest you should demonstrate with your high-level people.”
“Alright, I will,” Jeff agreed. “You already sell lunar real estate. Do you want to sell Camelot for me?” Jeff asked Heather.
“In my spare time? Get the lady who sold April her place,” Heather suggested.
* * *
“Maybe it was a launcher tube, and the projectile is gone,” Walter Houghton said. He made a gesture like he was holding it over his shoulder like a rocket-propelled grenade and even tilted his head like he was sighting along it. Even though he had gloves on he didn’t risk lifting the tube to his shoulder in jest and contaminating it.
Dr. Holbrook had a sour look on his face. He was all over the spectrum for different aspects of personality. But humor was a deficient area for him. At least he recognized this was humor even if he didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t go into a long dissertation about why it couldn’t be a weapon carrier. Just the fact it wasn’t big enough should have sufficed. The tube was more of a size to be a musical instrument and flared slightly on the flanged end. It would be wonderful if it was a launcher. Then it would probably have a handle on it giving some clue what sort of hand or tentacle grasped it and actuated it.
“Marks on the flange indicate the Martians removed fasteners holding it on a flat plate. We’ve checked the surface marks with electron microscopy and they aren’t just fresh looking. The depth of oxidation indicates it was removed in the last couple of months. We’re not sure why the other end doesn’t have a flange,” Holbrook said.
“I’m a design guy,” Houghton reminded him. He was a doctor too, but his boss still favored theoretical work over practical matters. He might as well have been an engineer in Holbrook’s estimation.
“There is a step in the rim of the other end. If you check that carefully I’d bet you will find traces of a gasket or dissimilar metal. The tube was inserted through a hole in sheet metal, but the other end fit in another hole where it wasn’t accessible to bolt in. That’s why the flange is on one end. It might have been another sheet, like the other side of a double-wall bulkhead or a machine. It might even have been a port on a distribution manifold,” Walter guessed.
“That’s an awful lot of supposition on thin evidence,” Dr. Holbrook objected.
“Ten grams at even odds says it will fit those specs,” Walter offered.
“Yes, I know you said you’d bet on the idea, but the sovereign emphatically warned me not to gamble with you,” Holbrook said.
“She doesn’t like any kind of wagering,” Walter said.
“Indeed, but her warning was very specific to you,” Holbrook insisted.
“That’s probably the nicest thing anybody will say about me today,” Houghton said.
Holbrook didn’t argue with that. He was uncomfortable with Walter’s relationship with their employers. It differed from his in ways he didn’t understand. Walter used to live with Singh on Home. He couldn’t imagine doing that.
“What else do you suppose about it?” Holbrook prompted him.
“Well, this electrical connector on the side is obvious. I’d say our Martian friends unplugged an electrical line for us there too. If it were just ripped out there would be damage. There was some sort of retainer or they wouldn’t have a flat around it.”
“Yes, the drag marks where some sort of clip locked it in are as fresh as the flange marks. I would theorize that half-sphere sticking up was a locking detent. It is at the end of a long simple spring in the scans. The clip likely had a hole into which that locked.”
“Shucks, you could do this without me,” Houghton complimented him. “That looks like gold inside. Is it?”
“It is, and it also has microscopic drag marks at six points inside the hole. The thickness of the gold indicates it wasn’t designed to have a design life of thousands of insertions and withdrawals. It was a part they didn’t anticipate replacing often.”
“One connector,” Houghton noted. “I’d say it’s low voltage DC, and the return was a common ground through the flange. Have you tried feeding any power to it?”
“Not yet. We’d like your thoughts on that too.”
“This wasn’t built by idiots. If it has polarity it should either be indifferent to being hooked up reversed or have protection built in. If you start at a few tenths of a volt and try one polarity and then the other it should display high resistance one way from something like a blocking diode, and draw current the other way. Eventually, it should do something when you get near its normal operating voltage. If it doesn’t, try interrupting the current or give it a waveform.”
“But what do you think it does?” Holbrook demanded.
“I have no idea,” Houghton said, but he was looking at it hard.
“I find it hard to believe you don’t have at least six different ideas,” Holbrook insisted. “That’s your specialty, wild flights of fancy to put a science fiction writer to shame.”
“Oh, well, if it’s wild flights of fancy you want,” Houghton said with an appropriate swoop of the hand. “It could be a speaker system and will play classic jazz with the right input or a sonic death ray that will reduce you to jelly. It could be part of a pneumatic delivery system like banks and department stores used to use to send paperwork between floors. It could be a delivery tube from his private kitchen to the captain’s cabin to shoot him cans of cold beer. It could be some sort of tentacle conditioning device that invigorates the weary appendages after a hard day, like a foot massage machine. It may be a plain old air duct and the electric powers something like an invisible fence to keeps vermin from having the run of the ship by blocking their passage. If you power it up, I don’t suggest sticking your fingers inside, it may give you a nasty jolt.”
Holbrook noted that was exactly six. He was glad he hadn’t asked for twelve. What was it like inside that mind? Was it just a blizzard of random ideas bouncing around like a hailstorm of ping pong balls?
“Point taken,” Holbrook agreed. “We won’t stand in line with it or point it at anything important just in case it is some kind of death ray.”
“Call me when you are going to fire it up,” Houghton begged.

Chapter 8
Vic had no idea what to expect of the Olsens’ house. He somehow had a mental picture of a yard strewn with trash and the doors hanging open, because he already had a bad opinion of the family. The reality was there was no clutter around the house, just a bundle of kindling wood on the porch.
It appeared the family had trimmed back the trees and brush around the home further than had been allowed before The Day. Some stumps were showing along the edge of the woods. Maybe they were cut for fuel. Probably not trimmed back far enough to save it if there was a wildfire, but enough to help with security if anyone wanted to sneak up on them, like he wanted to do right now.
“Vic, if you will be patient, I will work my way around to the opposite side of the cleared area so I can see the back end of the house but I’ll stay in sight of you. Once I’m satisfied with my view of the exit, I’ll wave my hat at you and advance to the back door. You go to the front. That way nobody can sneak out the other way. Mr. Mast, will you follow me part way and stop when you can cover both doors?”
The older man just nodded yes.
“Where should I go?” Alice asked.
“Stick to Mr. Mast but stay clear if he needs to shoot,” Arlo said.
“I’m pretty sure all the Olsens are accounted for,” Vic said.
“All the more reason to be cautious if anybody is in there,” Arlo said. “They don’t belong and may think we are the rightful owners returned.”
“OK, but we both call out and we have to be careful we don’t shoot each other, coming in from opposite sides like that.”
Approaching the front steps Vic saw the side windows were open just a little to allow air to circulate but keep the rain out. The front windows, sheltered under the porch roof were wide open behind their screens. The door was unlocked which he expected given the windows.
“Kitchen clear!” Arlo called from the back.
“Front room too,” Vic called out just as loud. He stopped and listened just like he imagined Arlo was doing. There was no activity stirred from their entry.
“Dining room! Waiting for you,” Arlo called.
“Coming!”
Arlo was waiting to one side of the door from the kitchen, not exposing his back to the outside entry. Vic noted that as a good idea.
“I’ll go down the hall and clear the rooms one by one,” Arlo volunteered. “Just cover the hall for me so nobody comes out while I’m in a room.” He slung his long gun and favored his pistol for this job.
“I’ve got it,” Vic assured him.
Arlo came back holstering his pistol. “The bedrooms are clear and the closets too,” he told Vic.
“I’ll call in Mast and Alice,” Vic said.
The house smelled bad. The upholstered furniture in the living room had sheets or blankets thrown over them because the stuffing was coming out. The floor had grass and dirt tracked in and no obvious attempt to clean it. They might not even own a broom, Vic thought. A vacuum would be useless now.
“Don’t go in the bathroom down the hall,” Arlo warned. “I closed the door for a reason. Nobody has bothered to dump water down the toilet in a long time.”
Alice came in with Mast behind her and looked around. She didn’t seem surprised or disgusted so Vic figured this must be how she expected it to be.
“What do you want to look for?” Arlo asked her.
“The gun safe first,” Alice said, pointing. She tried the lever and it was locked. “I don’t know the combination. The dad was always careful to shield it from me too.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll give it a try,” Mr. Mast offered.
That was directed to Alice, who nodded yes, but it was Arlo who looked surprised.
“If I can’t get it open, chances are they kept it written down somewhere,” Mast said. He didn’t spin the dial, instead, he started turning the dial counter-clockwise one increment at a time and trying the lever each time. He did that maybe a dozen times and the handle swung down and the door opened.
“How did you do that?” Arlo asked. He seemed almost unbelieving.
“Some folks run through the combination all but the last number so they can get in faster, or to the last number and back off a little. If they do that it’s fifty-fifty you can guess the right direction and open it,” Mast said.
“I’ll remember that,” Arlo vowed.
The content of the safe was a mixed bag. There was far less ammunition than Arlo hoped for. There was an old junky AR with no ammunition at all. The .22 rifle Alice identified as her father’s, but only a partial box of long rifle cartridges. A box and a half of 12-gauge shells were for the gun the Olsen father carried. There were two and a half boxes of 9mm ammo. That made sense since Arlo took three pistols of that caliber from the Olsens and William might have had one too. On the shelf, there was an antique nine-shot .22 revolver so old the blue was rubbed off a lot of it, but it seemed functional when Arlo inspected it.
“You should take this,” Arlo said of the revolver. He cracked it open and checked it was empty before handing it to her “It takes the same ammo as your little rifle and does nine shots as fast as you can pull the trigger. It has hardly any recoil too. That other pistol you have is too big for your hands and is going to be tough for you to hang onto.”
“It does fit my hand,” Alice agreed and slid it in a pocket. The barrel was too long and she had to reverse it so the barrel was sticking up. “It’s too big for me, but I want to keep my dad’s rifle. I’ll keep using this one for now.”
“I can understand that. You have all the .22s so take the box of ammo.” They counted them out and there were thirty-eight.
“You aren’t trying to grab everything. I appreciate that,” Alice said. “I think you should have the pistol ammo. It fits yours and the ones you took off the other Olsens doesn’t it?
“Yes, and another I have at home. But it fits what Vic carries too. He hasn’t asked for anything. Let’s at least give him the half box.
Alice nodded agreement and Vic muttered his thanks.
“Don’t you want anything?” Alice asked Mr. Mast.
“I’m pretty well set, but if you don’t want that ratty old AR, I’ll take it. Sometimes I hire guards and I’d rather lend that out than something nice.”
Arlo leaning on the safe made an inviting gesture. Mast slung it over his shoulder hanging down his back.
On the shelf where they got the pistol was a business card with the combination to the safe. That was kind of funny. A lot of use it was to anybody locked inside. There was a watch nobody wanted and a small bundle of paper money held by a rubber band that disintegrated when handled. Arlo laughed and riffled through it. “Anybody want this?”
“Arlo, I know it’s no good here,” Vic said, “but we have a bank account in Nevada we can still use to order stuff through the pilot that flies in to O’Neil’s store. If you want, we will send it to be deposited and you’re welcome to buy stuff through us.”
“What kind of stuff?” Arlo asked. “It’s only a couple hundred bucks.”
“I got a bag of cheap socks, our last visit. You could get some canned tuna or Spam. Maybe some aspirin or sewing needles. If you don’t sew, I bet some lady would be impressed with a gift of them. Think about it,” Vic urged him.
“OK, you’re my banker now too,” Arlo agreed, handing Vic the money.
Arlo reached way in the back and came out with two gold wedding bands and a diamond ring.
“Those were my parent’s rings,” Alice said with a quivery voice. Arlo just nodded and handed them to her. She put them in a pocket.
They raided the kitchen where Alice claimed a cast-iron skillet. Vic took a potato peeler and a few other small things. It was amazing the Olsens didn’t have a single decent kitchen knife. But Mr. Mast laid claim to a big brown bean pot displayed on a shelf as decoration.
“Should we look in the bedrooms?” Alice asked Arlo.
“It was pretty awful. I was hoping to find a decent blanket, but everything looked filthy and worn. Their clothing was just in piles. I didn’t want to touch anything, and I thought my standards were lax since The Day. Did you ever see them do any laundry?”
“They would take a bucket and a plunger down to the creek. But they haven’t had any soap since before I was with them.”
“There are a couple of people selling soap at the festival, but it’s dear,” Mast said.
“What would they have to trade for it?” Alice asked with a wave to encompass the house and everything in it.
“Yeah, they needed just about everything they had and lacked a lot. It almost makes me feel bad for them. Almost,” Vic added.
“There’s an ax and a shovel by the back door we should get. There’s a toolbox with stuff too.”
“You should keep that for trade goods,” Vic insisted. “It may be worth it to come back and strip the hardware out of the house if nobody beats us to it. Even get the clothing for rags if we have some sacks to carry it so we don’t have to hold it close.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you can burn it down to get the nails,” Alice volunteered.
“This is an old house,” Mr. Mast said. “If we come back in a few months we can be better equipped to strip it. If you check, I bet there is a dump somewhere close where you can dig for jars and metal.”
“Oh, sure!” Alice said surprised. “I can show you where.”
“Another time,” Mast said. “We’ve got as much as we can haul. I don’t want to stay here tonight, do you,” he asked of them all.
“The most I would want to do would be camp on the porch,” Arlo said.
“My old house is not too far down the road,” Alice offered. “It can’t be any worse than here. If we have to, there is a big awning over a patio in back. We could camp there as easily as the porch here.”
“Let’s do it,” Arlo urged.
There were jars of nails and nuts and bolts by the toolbox.
“Oh, that stuff is golden,” Vic said. “I’ve been getting good trades for it.”
“Knock yourself out,” Alice said, “I’m already loaded down and that’s heavy.”
“Just the nails,” Vic decided. “I’ll hide the other junk.”
“Hide it at my folk's house. Everybody close has probably picked it over by now and won’t expect anything new to turn up there. You can bury it,” Alice suggested.
“Ok,” Vic agreed and they hit the road.
* * *
“Annette, I am informed by my ladies that I didn’t treat you respectfully and owe you an apology,” Jeff said. “I do value you and am working to release you from managing Camelot. The direction of that has taken a turn, however. I intend to offer the casino and Camelot’s supportive infrastructure as a package to a cash buyer. I also intend to give you a bonus from that sale. Without what you did as my manager it would be a net loss. I’d be fortunate to unload on any terms.”
“Can you really just sell sovereign territory like that?” Annette wondered. “Won’t Heather object to losing control of it? I know it isn’t close to Central, but she will have to live with whatever it becomes under new management.
“Heather suggested it. I know it’s much more common to conquer territory and take it by force, but I’m aware the USNA, or rather the original states, bought vast tracts of land in Louisiana and Alaska. It does happen. I was told I should inquire what your intentions are and if possible, aid them. I just assumed you had other things you wanted to pursue. If there are things within the scope of our other businesses you’d like to consider, I or my ladies would consider you an asset to retain.”
“I know you don’t always see social custom clearly,” Annette allowed very charitably. “If it had been intolerable to remain at Camelot, I’d have given much shorter notice and left. If you have a plan to disengage yourself, that’s the perfect time for me to depart too. If I left early now things might not continue smoothly and any hint of trouble might jeopardize the sale you want. Getting a bonus helps give me a reason to stay. Thanks.”
“So, things are not quiet enough for you to leave early?” Jeff asked.
“Things have never gotten quiet for more than two or three days at a time. These people are infuriating. They are constantly in an uproar over something. They have all sworn loyalty to obey Heather’s rule. Not, you notice sworn to her as willing subjects. Just not to be in rebellion to her laws and decrees. That includes what I say as Heather’s voice. But they argue and obstruct, and they argue about Chinese politics even if they are theoretically detached from them. My sense is they don’t respect any Chinese authority either, it’s something tolerated because there is always going to be a distant ruler making demands of them. They may not identify with any particular party in China. They go with who gives them the best deal at the moment. They could switch political alliances in a heartbeat, though family comes before that. They certainly see themselves as Chinese in a cultural sense that has transcended any government for centuries.”
“It’s a failed experiment then,” Jeff concluded. “If you have suggestions on selling it or anything else, speak up. Assume I don’t have the sense to ask good questions. So, like my ladies encouraged me to do, I’m asking, what you want to do? Where do you see yourself going from here?”
“I like being an administrator. I’d like to do that again in the future, but you don’t have any need for that right now. Do you?”
“When do you think we’ll need those skills again?” Jeff asked surprised.
“If you don’t find some decent habitable planets then your whole plan of snatching all the prime real estate out there among the stars is going to come to nothing,” Annette said. “If this is the only habitable system the most you will ever have out there are mining camps and research stations. But I’d love to be governor of a planet for you.”
“I didn’t realize our long-term goals were so well known,” Jeff confessed.
“Oh yeah, that’s the holy grail for your pilots. The big lottery ticket in the sky.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any small domains upon which you can practice,” Jeff said.
“I know. I need to do some other things and gain skills to be ready for the big job. If it can be arranged, I’d like you to prevail upon one of your security guys to accept me as an apprentice. You don’t have a big complicated agency with formal training like Earth nations. I’d like to study under one of your spymasters. I think that would be a tremendous asset for a planetary manager, don’t you?”
“I can see the value of that,” Jeff allowed. “We’ll see if any of our spymasters agree.”
* * *
“You certainly took my worst fears seriously,” Walter Houghton said.
“See? I do take you seriously,” Holbrook said. Walter nodded politely, but he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea. But as long as Holbrook was trying to make nice-nice it seemed like the right thing to play along. He did wonder why they needed a technician to handle the control board for them. He didn’t introduce him either.
The alien flute, bazooka, cat tunnel, heat duct, whatever, was sitting on a table in a moon-hut. The flange was bolted at all four corners in a vertical plate of steel, and the opposite end resting in a machinist’s V-block. The flared end was pointed at the hut wall, then over the lunar horizon, and the smaller end at the opposite wall and the base of Happy’s mountain. They had a microphone mounted in front of the flared end.
The hut had a standard mix at eight-tenths of an atmosphere, and a shade rigged over it because it was in full sun. Houghton, Holbrook, and a technician were in a rover fifty meters from the hut and sideways to the axis of the device. They had a video link and remote controls on the power supply.
“We’re doing as you suggested. Starting with a positive supply to the connector, we will step up the voltage in tenth-volt increments to one volt. If there is no current draw or action, we’ll reverse polarity and try again. Do you have any questions or suggestions?” Holbrook asked.
“What do you have planned if it does something inconvenient, like catch fire?”
That got the technician’s attention. He seemed interested in the answer.
“We can vent the hut to vacuum. That seems sufficient,” Holbrook decided.
“Works for me,” Houghton agreed. “Let’s do it.”
“Go ahead Allen,” Holbrook said.
“Microphone is on. Positive feed at a tenth volt,” Allen said. He waited a few seconds at each step and increased the voltage in tenth increments to a full volt.
“No current draw,” Allen noted, “repeating sequence with polarity reversed.” Right away he said, “Twenty milliamps draw at a tenth volt. Twenty-four at two tenths. I’m going to graph it on the screen,” Allen said.
The curve went up sharply and plateaued at five point six volts.
“My power supply is limited at two amps. Looking at the connector and its surface area I wouldn’t be surprised if it can draw more,” he volunteered.
“Nothing from the mic,” Holbrook said, “no Earth-shattering Ka-Boom.”
“I’m not sure,” Houghton said. “Allen, would you make sure the gain is maxed on the mic and flip it on and off a couple of times, please?”
Allen reached out to his console but Walter closed his eyes to that and just listened.
“I believe I heard a very slight static,” Walter said uncertainly. “It might be in your equipment. Would you leave the device off but flip your mic on and off a few times?”
He closed his eyes again.
“Nothing,” Walter declared with certainty. “I’d like to add a sensor at the mic.”
“Let Allen do that,” Holbrook urged him.
“Allen, do you have some paper here? A notepad or something?” Walter asked.
He didn’t have anything until a search found a warranty sheet in a zip-seal bag holding a spare component. Houghton ripped a thin strip off the edge, and instructed Allen to turn the mic ninety degrees and fold the strip over the cable, loosely twisting it so it couldn’t come off easily. It took some minutes for Allen to done helmet and gloves, be checked, and go through both airlocks to position the paper.
Doctor Holbrook took out his phone and was reading something. Walter Houghton was content to sit and watch Allen make the placement. He seemed to understand what Walter was trying to accomplish and didn’t need any correction or guidance. Walter was just as happy not to try to chit-chat with Holbrook. Outside work, they seemed to have very little in common. It took several minutes to cycle through the airlocks twice and walk to the moon hut. When Allen resumed his seat Holbrook put his phone away.
“Should I ramp it up again or just go to full voltage?” Allen asked.
“Let her rip,” Walter said. Holbrook frowned a little at this small usurpation of his authority. Allen was after all his technician to order about, but he let it go.
In the video link, the little paper strip fluttered continuously.
It was Allen who spoke first in amazement. “No way can it be that quiet! The hum of ventilation fans will drive you batty on a ship.”
“Well I did hear a very soft sound,” Walter said, “more a sigh than a hum.”
“I bet that was just the sound of the air flowing over the microphone,” Allen said.
“Either way, I think we can agree it is very quiet,” Holbrook said. “Now the question is, How the devil does it work? It has no impellor. I am aware static discharges can propel gases away from a discharge point, but it has neither.”
“I’m not sure either,” Walter said. “It may be difficult but I’d try to get electron or x-ray microscopy images of the inside wall of the tube.”
“Yeah, before we do anything irreversible like cut a section out,” Holbrook agreed.
* * *
“There isn’t a thing in the Earth news about the Martians evicting their scientists,” April said. She’d been searching Earth news but Jeff wasn’t paying much attention.
Jeff put down his pad and stared at April. He usually had a quick response but tonight he just looked uncertain and unhappy.
“I hope we didn’t make a mistake,” Jeff said. “I thought we did the evacuees a favor too. I hope we didn’t transport them from the frying pan into the fire.”
“They are innocent,” April objected. “If we hadn’t removed them the damn Martians might have killed them!”
“Probably would have,” Jeff agreed. “I still doubt the European Union would disappear them but I wonder if they might be holding them and interrogating them?”
“Modern interrogation with brain scans and behavior software is so good they should see they are innocent of criminal behavior pretty quickly,” April insisted.
“Yes, but they lost a couple of agents. They aren’t stupid. At least they aren’t that stupid not to know something smells,” Jeff said. “They are going to know it’s a big enough secret to be worth killing people. Those folks were scared. There’s no possibility it isn’t going to be convincing in their interrogations, but it’s going to worry them a great deal they aren’t getting any closer to the core matter, the why.”
“You think they are going to hold them and not release them?” April asked.
“For a while, but at least they are safe now,” Jeff pointed out.
April nodded, but Jeff could tell it didn’t satisfy her rescue complex.
“Let’s ask Chen to do a low priority watch for any of those people turning up or any unusual news about their families,” April suggested. “He can farm most of it out to commercial investigators since it isn’t anything exotic.”
“Sure, you ask him. Most of them were associated with some sort of university, tell him to watch their previous positions for changes in their status,” Jeff suggested.

Chapter 9
The metal awning was partially down at the rear of Alice’s old house. The top of a tree caught it coming down in a storm and buckled a corner support, taking it almost to the ground. Since the prevailing storm winds came from that side it didn’t hurt the concrete patio as a shelter at all. There were still lawn chairs outside, grimy with dirt and cobwebs, and a steel fire bowl turned over out in the weeds they could drag to the edge of the concrete.
The back door was open but there was no damage to the floor inside because it was sheltered by the awning. There were leaves and pine needles blown inside just like on the patio. Arlo and Vic cleared the house though there was no sign of anyone. There was a stain across the living room ceiling that showed it leaked when it rained and mold growing up the walls in that corner of the room.
Alice looked behind the back door and found a broom nobody had bothered to loot, certainly not the Olsen’s. Other things were visibly absent. The kitchen table was there but the chairs were gone. All the cupboards were hanging open and bare spots testified to things taken. A few pieces were busted on the floor and Alice swept them in the corner safely out of the way, trying not to raise the dust. That obliterated the footprints of previous looters.
“Don’t be shy to look for things you can use,” Alice said, “better you than strangers.”
Vic found a box of borax under the sink. The cardboard was all bowed out ready to burst, but he dumped a plastic keeper of cereal and transferred it. The silverware drawer was pulled open and the knives were gone, as well as the knives from an empty block on the counter. The forks and spoons and serving pieces were all still there.
“These are nice. I’d like to bury these with the jars of nuts and bolts to recover later,” Vic requested. “Everybody has them from before the day but somebody will need them when they start a new household or their family increases.”
“Knock yourself out,” Alice invited. “I think mom had another good set for company in the hall closet. You can look. I’d need a chair to stand on and they’re all gone.”
Vic didn’t need a chair. The shelf was full of light bulbs, an antique slide projector, and photo albums. Something Vic hadn’t seen since visiting his grandparents years ago. A box was marked ‘Christmas Ornaments’ and nothing else that looked promising. That was probably why it was undisturbed. It was all the debris of a lifestyle that didn’t exist anymore. Vic took them down and put them against the wall with a sort of reverence, not like other looters who threw things on the floor behind them that they didn’t want.
Sure enough to the back of the shelf was a wooden chest with a complete set of silverware. It was heavy and when he checked Vic was surprised to see it was sterling.
“These are very fine,” Vic told Alice. “It’s a shame to hide them in the closet. If they were mine, I’d have used them for every-day. It’s just insane nobody looked at the shelf closely because it seemed to be all junk.
“Take them then,” Alice invited. “We’ll use them back home if you like them.”
Vic looked up at Alice, not because of the gift but because this was the first time she’d referred to the Foy’s place as home. It rattled him a little and to cover he said the first thing that popped in his head. “Maybe you should keep them. They’re worth quite a bit of money.”
“Maybe somewhere back East. And the money isn’t much use to me either, unless you arrange to spend it for me. I know you have a bank account in Nevada and can buy stuff but would it be worth taking that with you next time you go?” Alice asked.
Vic thought about it. “It’s awfully heavy to ask Cal to fly them out,” Vic said, hefting the chest. “Then he’d have to find somebody to take them back East where there are still people who will buy luxury goods. The market for them as silverware probably doesn’t exist now. They’d most likely be sold for scrap. Every time they get handed off to a new person, moving them to where there is a market, somebody would want a fee, so we wouldn’t get much back at this end.”
“See? If they are worth something again in the future, they’ll still be worth it if we use them now,” Alice reasoned.
“Thank you,” Vic said, not fighting the gift anymore.
“I’m going to sweep the patio,” Alice said. “We’re going to sleep out there, aren’t we? It’s not as bad as the Olsens, but it’s musty in here and I can’t sweep the carpeted rooms with a broom.”
“Yes the dust and mold and stuff are making my eyes itch and nose run already,” Vic said. “I’ll find something to put the silverware in and be out in a minute.”
Alice went out to sweep and Arlo had the fire bowl on the edge of the concrete and was cutting branches off the downed tree to make a fire. Mr. Mast was taking a walk to the rear of the weed covered back yard, after looking in the garage and bringing them a spade and a rake. He was looking around with his rifle at the ready, providing them some security.
Vic came out with the stainless pieces all rolled in a drape from the kitchen window.
“I’m going to bury this right by the corner of the patio. It will be easy to remember and find. Especially if we send somebody back for things instead of coming ourselves. I want to take the good silver along even though it is heavy. Who knows when we’ll get back here?”
There was a border of bricks around the perimeter of the patio, not easily visible but enough to trip over unseen in the knee-high weeds. Vic dug inside it, removing a dead decorative shrub. He emptied the dirt on an area rug so he could fill it back in without leaving obvious traces. He got down about a half meter and there was the sharp sound of shattering glass. He expanded the hole bigger than he intended and found a rusted metal cap still screwed on the top of a big pickle jar.
He continued working around it with the spade, being careful not to bust it further. When the hole was all around the jar to the very bottom, he got the spade under it he tried to lift it but it was too heavy. Arlo came when called and held the end of the handle while he got a double-handed grip near the metal and lifted. Between the two of them, they got it over the edge of the hole without dropping it and dragged it clear.
They called Alice and Mr. Mast came too, taking a break from guard duty as it was almost dark. The jar had a sack of silver dollars and a couple of smaller gold coins. There was a checkbook with a couple of credit cards tucked in it with expired dates. A folder of papers in a plastic sleeve were life insurance policies and the payoff letter for the property. Of more immediate use, there were two boxes of a hundred .22 cartridges, and a good compass in clear plastic. The sort you laid on top of a map.
“Wow, buried treasure!” Arlo said. “Your dad must have buried this out here. You didn’t know it was here?” he asked Alice.
“No, he must have done it when I was busy with something. Sometime between The Day and when they got sick. I was a lot younger,” she said with no irony at all. She had been forced to grow up way too fast.
“There was a shrub right on top of it,” Vic said. “He probably was putting it under that for the same reason I was. It would be easy to find later. He would have been worried about somebody with a metal finder back then. The shrub would keep them from searching right over it. I’d be surprised if anybody is using one now with homemade batteries.”
“We can get some nine-volt batteries flown in,” Mr. Mast said. “I think it might be a good idea after seeing this. We should check around here further and back at the Olsen’s. Around any place where we do salvage operations,” he decided. “I have a pretty good hobby-level detector in the barn if it still works. I’d rather not put a metal detector on the trades wanted board for the fair. No point in giving too many people the idea.”
Arlo got a sudden intense expression. “I wish we had one right now. Let’s dig a little deeper,” He suggested.
Mr. Mast looked shocked. “Damn, I should have thought of that.”
Vic dug a little in a circle around the depression they’d left. If he found another big jar, he didn’t want to bust it. After a bit, he handed the spade off to Arlo.
“I think there might be another shovel in the garage,” Alice said and started to go there, running right into Mr. Mast’s extended arm.
“Don’t go there,” he insisted.
“Why not?” Alice asked. She didn’t like being ordered around like that.
“It was winter when your folks died and the ground was frozen,” Mast explained. “They didn’t bury them. They just rolled them up in a bedspread and put them in the garage. I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to see that.”
For the first time, Alice started crying. Eileen had kind of expected her to do that just from seeing her old home. But it took a lot more. She was a tough little girl. She didn’t go to Eileen however. She just turned inside Mast’s arm and leaned on his chest sobbing.
“We can bury them before we go,” Arlo offered.
Alice shook her head no. “I don’t want you to have to move them. I don’t want to see them or think about that even. Just cut up the rest of the dead tree and pile it on them, then burn the whole garage down.”
Mast looked at the distance between the house and garage. “If the wind direction holds, we can do that in the morning when we leave,” he agreed. “I don’t think the house will catch and the woods aren’t dry enough yet to burn. There are some cans of motor oil in the garage nobody took. It will make the fire burn longer and hotter.”
When Mast let her go Eileen walked her over to a lawn chair and used the broom to brush it off and made her sit there. She did a chair for herself and they both sat to watch Arlo continue digging. It wasn’t long until he said, “Yep, I see some wood.” That turned out to be a piece of scrap plywood. When it was lifted something blue showed a few spots through the dirt.
The blue turned out to be the plastic top of a square container like you’d slide under your bed for storage. It would probably hold a good-sized pair of boots. Inside was a plastic case with a very nice .22 pistol, an extra magazine, and various cleaning tools. The case was wedged in tight with more boxes of .22 ammunition and a holster.
“Damn, you are rich girl,” Arlo said.
“I already have the revolver that fits my hand. Can you use this when you do police work later?” Alice asked Arlo.
“No, it’s really not suitable and I’d feel I was robbing you. Just the ammo alone is worth a lot in trade at the fairs. And that is so nice to offer, but I think you’d come to regret not having it later as a legacy from your father. I wonder why he buried it? You’d think after The Day he’d have kept it handy to use,” Vic said.
“He had the rifle,” Vic pointed out. “He might have been preserving this as wealth or had a sentimental attachment to it. The way it was buried with the silver that was too heavy to carry and the pay-off letter for the house makes me wonder if he was planning on moving on? This place is too far from any water, and there was no decent heat in the house but the fireplace.”
“We all huddled around the fireplace when it got really cold,” Alice confirmed.
No wonder they got sick, Vic thought, but didn’t say anything.
“After we have a bite, I’ll drag the fire bowl out a little and it will give me enough light to keep cutting wood,” Arlo said.
“And I’ll take turns with you,” Vic promised.
“I’m too old and fat to chop,” Mr. Mast said. “I’ll just help Eileen with supper.”
* * *
“Mr. Hall? Claw Security making a delivery for Mr. Colombe.”
Irwin made a show of turning his nameplate on his desk to double-check and then agreed that was he. The fellow was having nothing of any humor. He presented his card.
OK, the name wasn’t familiar but the bear footprint logo he knew. That outfit changes names like he put on fresh footies. The uniform was very military and that combined with the intense attitude of the fellow put him off for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Part of it was the low-slung quick draw holster tied to his leg. People who dressed so extremely were usually posers besides being Earthies. He had a minion left standing sideways by the door with a small wheeled piece of luggage.
“Let me put my chop on your receipt,” Irwin offered. “You can put the bar right on my desk. I’m calling an associate to take it to the vault in a moment. We have a local security company arriving to take a load to the Moon this morning, so it won’t even be here an hour.” He added that because the fellow was looking around at the bank and not seeing the sort of massive security he expected.
The fellow looked at the hanko askance and asked for a conventional signature.
“That’s no problem,” Irwin said agreeably and signed under the stamp and even added a thumbprint without needing to be asked.
“You can keep the carry-on,” the fellow volunteered. “It costs more to take it back than it’s worth.” He gave a little wave and his minion wheeled it over to Irwin’s desk.
Christian Mackay came in just then with a hired hand and a freight cart following like a dog at heel. The lead Earthie security looked at them with astonishment and then amusement. In contrast to his intimidating uniform they had on lunar soft armor. The locals knew what that looked like, so they tried to soften the look. Their hoods were up but they left their faces bare. Christian Mackay had on a Hawaiian aloha shirt over his armor and his subordinate Sheila Tubby had on a Mickey and Minnie Mouse t-shirt.
Besides the casual dress, Mackay had a pair of security drones hovering over each shoulder and a single Singh laser pistol. Sheila had a 30mm grenade launcher loaded with flechettes and a new item from the Moon, an ultrasonic knife. In this case, configured as what is known as an Arkansas toothpick. A long double-edged dirk with a minimal guard and a grippy handle.
“You are all headed back down to the dock anyway,” Irwin pointed out. “If you want to cover Mackay and Sheila’s rear to the shuttle it will ensure your client's item gets off to the Moon safely.”
“It’s signed for. I don’t care if you toss it out the lock in the general direction of the Moon now. Not my concern anymore,” the lead man said with a smirk.
“Earth Think,” Mackay said, and didn’t add a word of explanation as it was obvious that was sufficiently damning on its own.
“And you have nothing to do with Earth? I can hear Boston in your speech as clear as anything. North of the Charles,” he said, putting on the accent and lifting his nose to look down it. “And you,” he peered at Sheila intently, “Tongan maybe? I was told I might see a few of the island folk up here.”
Sheila just ground her teeth and wouldn’t speak to him. She had a huge smile but right now it looked more like a wolf’s smile below smoldering eyes.
“She’s Indian,” Mackay informed him, “but we’re both Homies now.”
He sneered at Sheila who only came up armpit high to the three men. “Dot or feather?” he asked.
“Do you see either, jackass? I’m Choctaw here or below on the Slum Ball.”
“Oh…” He used a perfectly normal Algonquin word to describe her. Unfortunately, by use, it was rendered a slur long before Custer became a pin cushion.
Sheila held her main weapon secure against her chest with her left hand and pulled the toothpick out, bumping the end of the grip on her hip to power it up. The knife made a brief chirp as it climbed up through the audible frequencies making everyone’s ears pop with transient overpressure. She’d taken two full steps towards the Earthie when Mackay tackled her around the knees. She then pulled Mackay who was near double her mass along the deck another half meter with the grippy elbow patches on her armor.
“No talk, just GO,” Mackay told the Earthies, hanging on hard. They retreated in some haste though they got jammed up trying to go through the door at the same time.
“Promise you won’t chase after them if I let you go?” Mackay bargained.
“What? On my stubby little legs?” Sheila asked.
That wasn’t an answer and Mackay wasn’t fooled to take it for one.
“Yeah, I’m past chasing them. Do I still work for you?”
“Of course. It’s not like you wanted to kill a customer.”
* * *
Arlo was going to bust the windows out of the garage to make it burn better, but Vic objected to the waste and took the time to remove the panes. It was quick work with a knife on the old putty. He just carried them to the woods and leaned them up against the side of a tree away from the house.
Black smoke poured out of the windows and open man-door on the side until suddenly the inside lit up bright from the flashover and flame belched out of the openings. They left then, certain what they intended was accomplished. The house seemed in no danger and if it did catch fire, they wouldn’t risk their lives fighting it. As they walked away something popped loudly in the fire, overlooked paint cans maybe.
When they had walked three or four kilometers they stopped and looked back. There was a smear of dark smoke blowing away to the northwest and not much new smoke joining it from below. They turned away and Alice never looked back again.
When they got to where William scrambled up the hill his bag was still lying in the road. Something had pulled the stuff out that Vic had stuffed back in the sack. Probably from the scent on it. The plastic was blown over in the brush. They just walked past.
* * *
Chen very rarely called Heather directly. His summaries for all three usually served her needs. Jeff gave him most of his assignments and April somewhat less so. April had her own sources of information on Home. They both had more need of Chen’s expertise with Earth politics than Heather. She had much less trade with Earth than Home. She was more likely to be the source of lunar intelligence to him. Where she had interests due to being an officer of their bank or other business interests, she put off most of that responsibility on them so she could run her kingdom. They didn’t seem to resent it and only bothered her for major policy decisions.
The usually poker-faced Chen was not doing a very good job of being the inscrutable spymaster today. He looked sheepish. Heather wondered if he’d really screwed something up before he ever spoke.
“Ma’am, you made a note to charge our commercial news monitoring services with keeping a watch for any public statements by your former resident Linda Pennington.”
Heather was enjoying Chen’s discomfort, which wasn’t nice, but she couldn’t resist tweaking him a little more.
“Ahhh… Has she realized how good she had it here and come to the realization her return to the Slum Ball was ill-advised? Is she now pining to return?”
“Not exactly,” Chen said, blinking rapidly and looking even more distressed. “She seems to have gotten a position with the Bureau of Labor Allocation. But I’d say from long personal experience that she is probably funded and assigned there from one of the many specialized propaganda shops under Homeland Security. I’ll just leave the video link here. I expect they will probably have her make the circuit of the various talk shows and approved political webcasts. I’ll put any new speaking engagements in your regular report, but since this is a new thing, I wanted to make you aware of it.”
“Thank you, Chen. I appreciate your diligence. I’ll text you any questions,” Heather said and disconnected. She saw his face relax a little once he knew they were done, just an instant before the camera cut off.
Heather rinsed out her oatmeal bowl, leaving it for her housekeeper to deal with later, topped off her coffee, and returned to watch the video. If she didn’t stop and look at it now, she’d be thinking about it all day. It would irritate her a dozen times imagining it before she ever watched it.
“What You Should Know” with John Foster as a webcast was very simply done. There were no fancy animated titles. The trend right now was to try to look more like an amateur production because people didn’t trust slick big-money shows.
The set was extremely simple too. It either really was Foster’s home which was the standard for talk shows now, or a set meant to convey that. There was a low granite slab table with an electronic remote and a coffee mug behind a leather sofa long enough to seat four or five. The view was across the sofa and table at an angle so you saw out glass doors to the left and a wall of bookcases to the right behind the host and guest.
Considering how most people lived in North America now the scene implied Foster was of considerable means and connections, thus his opinion was to be taken seriously. The view out the glass was a long downhill lawn between big trees to a boathouse and dock. The bookshelves that ran to the ceiling had books, but also spaces for a pair of Chinese vases, a bust of some man Heather didn’t know, and a discontinued Waterford bowl that was a museum piece now. Heather knew it was worth at least a half-million USNA dollars if it was real. The whole effect was all so tasteful and expensive it was like a get rich quick infomercial. The only thing missing was an expensive car on a long curving driveway outside. The boathouse served that same function a little less blatantly.
John Foster was at the far end of the sofa but turned away a little so you could see his reactions to his guest. He could still turn his head easily and address his audience. He was casually dressed in khaki slacks with cuffs, argyle socks, and soft loafers. His windowpane shirt was long-sleeved and buttoned at the neck as had become required by right-thinking North Americans in the last few months.
He was at the full opposite end of the sofa from Linda Pennington. Just sitting on the same sofa with her was as much intimacy as public morals allowed now. Sitting close enough contact might occur would have been frowned on.
Heather might not have recognized Linda now if she’d walked past her in the corridors. She had to have a wig on because her hair hadn’t had time to grow that long. She looked really good for a middle-aged Earthie with no life extension. She had on full-face makeup that almost nobody wore on Home. Even so, Heather was pretty sure they had software enhancement running to make her look a good ten or fifteen years younger. She had no idea if John Foster needed that.
Linda was dressed as modestly as Foster or more so. Besides a long pleated skirt and boots that covered her legs well above her hem, she had on a little jacket over a long-sleeved blouse that hid her figure. If the blouse showed any neck it was hidden behind a big silk scarf artfully knotted.
Linda described her time on Home as terrifying. She claimed to be in fear every time she had to leave their apartment because about half the people in the public corridors appeared to be armed. She was skillful in emoting with a contorted face. Foster hardly had to say anything to launch Linda on lengthy responses. It was scripted, but she seemed able to deliver it extemporaneously.
That didn’t surprise Heather. Linda was skilled at creating a narrative in her mind and was the sort who had no trouble believing her own story once created. It didn’t have the sound of reading it and she didn’t look like she was reading. Foster just nodded a lot and likely did read his part.
She broke down and cried when she spoke of being reduced to working as a cleaning lady at a night club. The show was aimed at a different demographic and unconcerned about offending any cleaning ladies. Indeed the point seemed to be that there was an oppressed underclass among the spacers. It amused Heather to think the obvious inference that their cleaning ladies might be an oppressed underclass in a menial job would never occur to them.
It was interesting she said nothing about her ex, Mo. Heather had to wonder if she would bring him up another time. That seemed a risky thing to bring up with a very conservative North American public. She did mention both her children were beguiled by the permissive atmosphere on Home and allowed to assume adult privileges long before she thought them ready. She said child labor was a horrid step back to times best forgotten. She said there were no public schools as if that meant there were no schools.
Linda certainly seemed to have improved her station in life. She was dressed well and being presented to the public as a spoks. Doing this sort of show every few days certainly beat a daily shift of vacuuming and wiping down banquettes.
The script visited all the usual talking points about spacers and avoided any positive aspects that might appeal to the public. It struck Heather that they didn’t touch upon Life Extension Therapy at all. It made her wonder if the Earthies had lost the battle on that with their public and were no longer trying to convince them that dying young was a patriotic duty and sign of righteousness.
Heather wondered if she should make Mo aware of this, but decided against it. She was after all Mo’s ex-wife. It wasn’t like anything the woman could do now would impact him on the Moon. He certainly didn’t need to be convinced he’d done the right thing in divorcing her. All it could do would be bring to mind hurtful things better forgotten.
Suddenly she realized why Chen was uncomfortable making this report to her and felt a flash of belated sympathy. This report was of no more real benefit to her than it would be to Mo. It just reminded her of Linda’s irrational accusations and the fact she’d passed on the opportunity to shoot her for her insolence while the woman stood before her justice.
Chen just didn’t have her opportunity to refrain from passing it along since he was their employee and specifically charged with telling her. In her mind, there had been a small nagging worry that the woman could do something damaging to them. Now, seeing the silly propaganda show, she wondered why she’d thought that. These productions had nothing to do with harming them and everything to do with protecting the ruling class below from their own people.

Chapter 10
“He’s dirty,” Otis Duggan said. “The trouble is, he is smart, really good at hiding the dirt, and at using every legal trick of endless Earth law to excuse what isn’t hidden.”
Jan Hagen sat holding his chin and tapping his lips with a finger-tip.
“Give me some specific examples I can tell Chen so we can estimate what would be involved to deliver hard proof to Irwin.”
“Proof a European court would recognize, or proof Irwin would accept?” Otis asked.
“Let’s say Irwin first. I expect he’d have a much lower threshold of proof,” Jan said.
“OK, as an example, most high-level crooks get implicated by their subordinates. If the people in their own office don’t become afraid and turn them in, they are at least turned against their master by the prosecution and compelled to testify,” Otis said.
Jan nodded that he was in agreement, and following that.
“I think both of the officials working under his direct control in the central bank and his secretary have no idea at all Colombe is robbing the institution. He met with an official of the Persian Central Bank at a restaurant two days ago and we managed to fly a recording bug under their table. Later after they were gone, we recovered it to an agent sent in to have a meal there. Their conversation was entirely innocuous. They talked about the food, they talked in generalities about the difficulties of working around the Americans. The Persian resents that they are so inhibited by what he calls a failed state. Colombe poked fun at his own European Union with a particular dislike for the Italians.
“However, it did not escape our attention that Colombe’s driver, who is a Russian national, did not wait for him or remain with their car for security. Colombe could call for a car but the one from the bank would have a driver assigned for a pool of a half dozen at random. He maintains a car and driver even though he sometimes took the other bank-provided car to work. The driver ordered up an automated car from a local service and left with a member of the Persian’s security detail. They went to a park, went for a leisurely stroll together in a cell phone hush field, and ordered an auto-cab from a different company to take them back to the restaurant. When they got back and the security fellow rejoined the Persians, they all immediately left.”
“Almost as if the subordinates were the ones actually doing business,” Jan said.
“Colombe also has a gardener who walks around the estate supervising two hands-on gardeners but never seems to get his hands dirty. Our observer says he’s certain from the way he walks and moves and adjusts his clothing that he is armed. Also, while Colombe has a cleaning maid and cook, it is his gardener who lives in.” Otis said.
‘This is unusual,” Jan said, “most greedy people wish to hire those who will conspire with them, but want the corporation or the state to cover paying them. If they are drawing a full salary then he doesn’t have to share nearly as much of their ill-gotten gains with them, just sweeten the pot as it were. So he is paying at least two full-time employees for his own purposes. That’s dangerously smart.”
“We think his wife is involved too, but she is even more mysterious. We’ve expended more resources on her and found out nothing.”
“I’m surprised you’ve gone to this much trouble,” Jan admitted. “We didn’t cap the number of agents used or how many grams committed but people usually come back and ask for permission to keep expanding an investigation.”
“I know you haven’t been working with Chen that long,” Otis said. “I’m not being insubordinate, but we’ve never seen Chen draw back from anything April ordered. This may be for Irwin, but it has always worked out that when April instigates an investigation, we end up finding a half dozen related things we are really happy to know for every case we’ve solved for her.”
“Hmmm… having dealt with her before, this doesn’t surprise me. I’m certainly not telling you to pull back just yet.”
“Chen says you have European assets just like he has Asian. Do you have anything to share to help us narrow down what we look at?”
“I don’t want to narrow you down. If I have other assets, you may assume they are haring off in other directions and that suites me just fine. The only things that occur to me are to suggest you find out more about the gardener and check out the driver and his history in greater detail. He may be a handler working Colombe for the Russians.”
The look on Otis’ face said that the idea shocked him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t control his face. He chose not to with Jan. It was a form of honesty. They’d just assumed Colombe was the principal miscreant, and not being managed by anyone else.
“I’ll look into that,” Otis promised and Jan just nodded before he disconnected.
Jan had been surprised too but didn’t feel he owed Otis that kind of honesty. It would have caused him to alter his priorities if he’d shown surprise that the Persians were involved. He called Chen amused at the new direction he’d be able to suggest.
“Chen? Jan here,” he texted. “You once mentioned Huian having contacts in the hawala system. If you can, structure a general inquiry about our target Colombe to avoid conflicts, perhaps to ask if we should do business with him. It would at least tell us if he is engaged in that world. I’ve been advised he is in contact with the Persian Central Bank, but I doubt they would be as open to questions about him.”
Well, isn’t that interesting? Chen thought, smiling. He never expected to use Huian as an intelligence asset. He’d see if she could extract that information, but he wouldn’t use her blind. He’d let her know it was for an intelligence case and that she should not damage her valuable relationship with Myat to further a case.
“Dear wife, come talk to me when you have a moment,” he called around the screen that separated his work area.
* * *
Irwin Hall and Eddie Persico appeared in a call to Jeff. The window with Irwin had the little star in the corner so he had initiated the call. Irwin looked happy to the point of smugness so Jeff didn’t brace himself for bad news for a change.
“I just wanted to let both of you know in the last three days we’ve sold or gotten solid leases for every cubic meter of spun cubic in Beta,” Irwin said.
“Wow, that’s a couple of months ahead of your best projection,” Jeff said.
“Indeed. We are even covered if someone doesn’t forward payment and withdraws. We now have a waiting list of people and firms wanting space,” Irwin said. “I made no announcement, but it appears people spread the word around that most of the cubic was spoken for and it precipitated a rush for the last few units.”
“Does that change our construction schedule?” Eddie wanted to know.
“Not for the basic structure,” Irwin said. “The materials and fabrication are already reserved as far ahead as services are available. I can speed up the interior detailing and finishing a bit since we’re ahead of projections for income. I just have one buyer I expect to be excluded for prime one g cubic. I expect it will be no problem to replace him given the response we just got.”
Jeff said nothing. When Irwin used their intelligence resources it didn’t matter through which of them it was requested, all three shared any results.
Eddie perked up suddenly and looked at them intensely. “Do you then project we will be getting an income stream earlier than we anticipated?”
“Yes, you will be getting several Solar a month starting next month instead of three or four months from now,” Irwin said. “I can ask accounting for an exact number.”
“No need. I’ve been keeping my money active and tied up to the last centum,” he revealed. “I haven’t allowed myself any personal extravagance. Would the Private Bank write me a mortgage for that cubic if it comes open? I’d ask a zero down fifty-year loan with no prepayment penalty. The cubic should secure it since there is such demand. If you insist, I can offer other collateral.”
“If it starts paying, it is yours at four-point-seven percent interest.” Irwin offered.
“That’s not bad, considering I’m partially paying myself interest,” Eddie said.
“Yes, it’s likely around three percent when everything balances,” Irwin agreed. “Are you going to open a business office?”
“No, I intend to stay virtual like Jeff,” Eddie said. “I want an actual decent volume to live in where I don’t have to hang my kitchen chairs and table up to fold the sofa down and watch the screen. I might even have an actual shower stall, where I don’t have to sit on the toilet lid.”
“Are you in a single?” Jeff asked. He’d never stuck his nose in Eddie’s private life. Eddie had never invited him to his home, but then neither had Jeff invited him.
“The smallest,” Eddie said, “but at least I own it. I’ll keep it for when I overnight on Home. I suspect it will still get used because I have so much business here.”
“It isn’t going to drop in value,” Irwin assured him.
“If it doesn’t work out for Beta, I’ll get myself in a position to buy something when we start construction on Gamma,” Eddie vowed.
That’s what Irwin liked about Eddie. They didn’t have the first ring closed on Beta and he was looking ahead at Gamma. He had boundless optimism.
* * *
When their expeditionary force returned to Mr. Mast’s place, his house-sitter had several messages waiting for him. One he passed along to Vic. It was from the fellow running the radio net, Ted Foster.
Mr. Foy
I’m told you have purchased a satellite phone. If you wish to call in messages to be added at the end of our news broadcast or any other service call me at 011-8812-1257-6871. If you wish to know the other satellite phone users in our six-county area, I maintain a list, but getting it requires allowing me to publish your number to the others on the list. I have a policy that if I have complaints of anyone making frivolous calls running up other people’s phone bills, I will publicly remove them from the list and block them on my phone.
If you wish any sort of a brief biography or business description attached to your listing that is a no-fee option but limited to three hundred words.
It is well known I have a sat phone and I understand if you do not want this published. I do have problems with numerous requests to make calls for people to search for family and others whose fate is unknown. I found out early on that most of these searches return out of service messages and are pointless. It may seem heartless, but I advise you to refuse most charity calls and charge sufficiently for other calls to cover your expenses or people will take advantage of you.
I’m sending this by courier to Mr. Mast’s fair site as well as to O’Neil’s store, as I am told you do business with both.
Sincerely, Ted
It shouldn’t bother him. Ted Foster had so many contacts and business with so many people he had lots of sources of information, but he knew so much about Vic that it felt invasive, like all the cell phone tracing and internet tracking had before The Day.
Vic decided there was no need to answer Ted quickly. He felt upset right now so the best thing would be to stop and think on it a couple of days rather than answer while upset. Ted hadn’t done him any harm or demanded anything. He handed the message to Eileen and smiled because his frown was upsetting her.
“Think about that. In a few days I’ll tell Foster what we want to do,” Vic invited.
“That many sat phones?” Eileen said, surprised. “I thought three or four.”
“Across six counties, and he doesn’t name them,” Vic pointed out.
“I think that’s further than his radio broadcast reaches,” Eileen said. “It might be worth having contacts over a wider area. I suspect the ones further away may have other contacts even beyond. They just don’t have any reason to pursue contacts if it is beyond their reasonable range to do business.”
“What is the advantage then?” Vic wondered.
“If any outside agency starts trying to take control of the area. We might get some advance warning,” Eileen said.
Vic nodded. He especially noted she didn’t say the USNA. It seemed like a reach for Mexico, so that left Texas. It would have sounded crazy before The Day, but he wouldn’t bet against anything after the changes they’d experienced.
* * *
“Irwin, I’d like to come by your office and make a presentation of what we’ve found on Colombe,” Chen said.
“Are you worried about privacy?” Irwin asked. “I just expected April would tell me what you found or you’d send a text.” Privately he wondered if it was that horrific.
“I’m close and I’m a bit conflicted about this report myself. I’d rather see you face to face to see your reaction and for you to get a clear input from me. Talking on the com loses a lot of subtle nuances for me.”
“It’s near lunch. I’m right by the old cafeteria anyway. Come by and I’ll take you to lunch,” Irwin offered.
“In about a half-hour,” Chen agreed.
Chen had his wife with him. Irwin was surprised he hadn’t mentioned her.
“My hospitality would extend further,” he said at the modest meal they chose.
“We tend to eat a late breakfast and an early dinner so this is a between meals snack for us,” Chen said. He had an egg salad sandwich he split with Huian and a piece of apple pie. She had a big brownie beside the half sandwich.
“The first thing you need to know is that we have no smoking gun. We’ve spent extra time on Colombe simply because he has frustrated our efforts so much. April would probably be horrified if we told her precisely how many man-hours are in this investigation, but we’ve found all sorts of other interesting things about the underside of Earthie banking that will be useful to them.
“Nevertheless, the deeper we got into it, the dirtier Colombe looks. It’s just we are at the limit we want to expend resources to prove it. What we have is all circumstantial. He has far more properties and assets than can be explained by his income, and we made sure he has no great family wealth or a significant inheritance. His wife appears to hold more than him and technically she doesn’t hold any job. I’ll give you a list, but they own three expensive homes in as many countries, as well as businesses that seem to favor cash transactions. The refining business in Switzerland is handy for laundering metal. Other businesses involve transport that could be used for smuggling or other illegal activities. It’s interesting that he had seven personal properties just a year and a half ago and has divested himself of four of them. One of the current three is for sale too.”
“That would fit with his plan to move off Earth,” Irwin said.
Huian put her sandwich down and spoke up. “I asked Myat to inquire of her contacts in the alternative Islamic financial custom called hawala. Like banking off Earth, it is centered around personal trust and integrity, not government regulation and efforts to regulate honesty by ever increasing laws and regulations. In some ways, they protect your privacy better than even the Swiss, but it is also a common thing for individuals working in that system to farm out the risk for any one transaction across several dealers. That still requires something in the way of an opinion about a customer that may be more accurate than a rating agency.”
“I’m of course familiar with the concept if not all the details,” Irwin allowed. “I’ve never been certain in your dealing with Myat if either of you fit the defined roles of advisor and customer the West expects. I think she may regard you as a customer or a colleague, depending on which way the deal you are working on goes. I’m aware I may just be a third party facilitator.”
“I would not deceive Myat in either role why I was inquiring about Mr. Colombe. I made clear I didn’t want details of his private affairs but asked simply if she or others in her association could recommend doing business with him?
“They were entirely unambiguous in saying they could not recommend him, and then added they would suggest avoiding entanglement with him, which was far more than I asked. I don’t think they would have said that if not for compelling reasons. I realize that doesn’t give you any specific reasons to avoid him, but I trust their report.”
“What are you suggesting I do then?” Irwin asked both of them.
“We are aware you were with our employers in France recently. We did not feel free to ask them, or certain they would even know,” Chen admitted, “but does this inquiry have to do with your business dealings with France?”
“Worse, it has to do with my personal relationship and care for the Prime Minister of France and possible harm to his administration,” Irwin said. “He treated me well.”
“It’s a possible political bomb?” Chen asked. “It’s that big?”
“Big enough to splash on Joel and tip an election from scandal,” Irwin said.
“Then our advice is to provide all the information in the package we are giving you directly to him and his intelligence experts should be able to unravel this mess from the inside much better than us. Just be sure you don’t reveal there is an investigation to the wrong person. We have no idea how many people inside French agencies might alert Colombe about anything that brings up his name. Even in innocence. The head of the French Bank, after all, has the legitimate ability to request all sorts of information.”
“I’ll give it directly to the Prime Minister and it’s on him who he trusts with it.”
“The file is on your home com,” Chen said. “April asks a favor that you request of the Prime Minister, should you decide to warn him. If you decide you are satisfied with the breadth of it after examining it, a word to our employers also would be a kindness.”
“I suspect I will be satisfied,” Irwin said, “and I shall not neglect giving thanks all around. What could April possibly want now?”
“That sounds like her,” Irwin said when it was explained.
“I’d like to make another suggestion if I am not too bold,” Huian said.
“Feel free,” Irwin invited.
“I know the western banking systems are not friendly to you. Less so even to the Solar Bank. Although you view the differences between interest and participation shares through different moral filters. I think you might be able to get along with hawala easier than the various central banks. You are already dealing with Myat through me, but there are thousands of practitioners. More than either of us could possibly service.”
“That not only makes sense,” Irwin decided, “it would open new markets to us.”
Huian just nodded an acknowledgment of that with a satisfied look. She wouldn’t insult him by asking a finder’s fee if that worked out. He’d always treated them well.
* * *
The evening radio report had a few cryptic paid messages at the end and then Ted Foster’s voice took on a strained quality.
“Lastly, we have a request and an unfortunate sort of public service announcement from Bruce Tilly at the edge of our broadcast area to the north. He reports finding a body on the road between his house and a neighbor. A young man in maybe his thirties with a full beard, wearing jeans, and a green and gray plaid flannel shirt. He seemed in generally decent health, no skinnier than is common now. They heard shots the night before and found him all torn up and surrounded by lots of hog tracks on the road. He had a pistol with three shots fired to match what they heard, but no signs he hit anything. If anybody is missing kin or friend, they kept a patch of the shirt to help ID him and claim his pistol for taking the time to bury him deep and respectfully. That’s all for tonight. Same time tomorrow. Don’t forget to charge up!”
The three listeners all looked at each other, horrified.
“Shooting at black pigs in the night. That’s about impossible,” Vic said. “There weren’t that many wild pigs here before The Day.”
“I’m terrible,” Alice said. “All I can think is I’m sure he’s no danger now.”
“Makes sense from your perspective,” Vic allowed. “You didn’t owe any of that lot any well wishes. I wouldn’t waste too much guilt on ‘em.”
“We should probably let Ted and Arlo know,” Eileen suggested.
“Yeah, and if I’m going to call Ted, I think we might as well accept being listed to the other satellite phone owners, don’t you think?” he asked Eileen.
“I’d feel a little less isolated,” she agreed.
* * *
“It has circles of nanodots sticking up all over the inside surface,” Holbrook said. “And the feed to them suggests they display a patterned dual polarity too.”
“Straight up all the way around?” Houghton asked.
“Nothing so simple. The surface has waves formed in circles and the dots stick up perpendicular to the surface they are on, but at angles to the axis of the tube both ways,” Holbrook said waving his hands and illustrating with finger pokes.
It was so unlike him Walter Houghton had to fight to keep from grinning and offending him.
“So it is an electronic discharge device. That had to be a hell of a thing to fabricate,” Walter decided.
“More like grown,” Holbrook said. “I have no idea how you would do it at this scale. There don’t appear to be any boundaries where rigs or segments were assembled. The nanodots appear to tapered on the end to a single atom or three at the worst. The circuitry to the dots seems to be similarly integrated. If we’d made something similar with large discharge spikes it would spew ions, ozone, and nitrogen oxides.”
“So, just like the radar it’s beyond our ability to produce just yet?”
“To make it the same way, yes. We can even make the dots pointy, I was surprised to find out. But it’s not beyond our ability to create rings and assemble them to make a very similar structure. Just very expensive,” Holbrook said.
“At first. That’s always the case at first,” Walter said. “I shudder to think what the first integrated circuit prototype must have cost. Eventually, you get to the fourth or fifth generation devices and people are ordering them in hundred-thousand-piece lots.
“I hope you are right, because we’re going to try making a small-scale prototype.”
Walter got that distracted look Holbrook was learning to dread.
“What is it? I bumped you into thinking way too hard on something,” he accused.
“Well, if you don’t have any dimensions set yet, may I send you a proposal for external mounting dimensions for your proto?” Walter requested.
“Sure,” Holbrook agreed, expecting to hear more but Walter just nodded.
* * *
Irwin appeared on April’s screen, looking distressed.
“As much as I want to warn Joel, I’ve decided I can’t do so and speak for you too.”
“Mylène too,” April said. “I care for her and even Pierre as well as Joel.”
“Then I wish you’d inform him about Colombe,” Irwin requested. “I won’t look foolish by suggesting they shouldn’t be holding the returned Martians. I might be falsely accusing him if it’s not France’s doing. You don’t know.
“It has nothing to do with any banking issues. You are using me the same way Joel used Pierre, as a buffer. I can assure you he’s going to ask me why they should release them. It’s unreasonable to ask him to take my word for it when I don’t know myself. I won’t say because April says so.”
April sighed. “You’re right. I have a secret I don’t want to be revealed. Joel will just sit and stare at me until I either spill the beans or forever damage our relationship.”
“He’s not stupid. You’re going to cause a split with him whether you are there to be upset at it happening or just have me do it by proxy,” Irwin insisted.
“It’s a huge burden of a secret,” April warned him. “Are you sure you want to know? Then it’s on you of whether to pass it on to Joel or not.”
“Colombe is pretty smart,” Irwin allowed. “I suppose we could just ignore the whole thing and hope his fraud doesn’t get revealed until the Durand administration is done and gone. It might never come to light. After all, I doubt it is the only theft ever done to the French people. What business is it of ours to fix?”
“If you are trying to make me feel guilty, it’s working,” April said.
“Do you trust me to keep this secret even if I don’t reveal it to Joel?” Irwin asked.
“Yes, but how many people can know it before it isn’t a secret anymore?”
That gave Irwin pause. He thought about it a bit.
“I suppose it only matters if you tell people with the power to act on the information. Are you sure that isn’t what is bothering you? You aren’t going to retain the power of this secret? Did you promise anyone to keep this secret?”
“No, and you are right, it’s been in our interest to keep it hidden,” April admitted.
“If you trust me, is it Joel you can’t trust?” Irwin asked.
“Yes, as much as I like Joel, as a person. I’m not sure as Prime Minister he’d hold this close if he is convinced it would harm France to not reveal it.”
“As he should,” Irwin countered. “It’s up to you then. I appreciate your help investigating for me, but I won’t be your deliberately uninformed messenger boy. Trust me or handle it yourself.”
April was conflicted. She was cornered and going to damage her relationship with Irwin too if she didn’t trust him. Wasn’t this the same issue she’d argued with Gunny and Jon over, about Earth Think damaging security?
“Irwin, the Martians have been hiding the wreck of an alien starship from the rest of the human race. They have formed a near religious cult around the secret of it, convinced the rest of us will panic over its revelation. That’s why they are expelling the scientists doing other research on Mars. This has taken over as their reason for being there. They’re willing to kill people to keep this secret and we thought we were doing them a favor rescuing them. But maybe not, if they are imprisoned.”
“Oh sure. Pull the other one. I can see them in rows, bowing before a green alien idol with deely-boppers,” Irwin said holding palms up and bowing himself.
April stared at him, mouth hanging open.
“I share the biggest secret in the Solar System with you and you make fun of it!”
She made a fist and Irwin saw it coming down on the com console like a hammer to disconnect. It happened far too fast for him to make any kind of a retraction. He’d already figured out before the screen went blank that he’d screwed up. It occurred to him that of all the recordings he’d seen of April, warning Earthies that she was about to rain thermonuclear devastation upon them, he’d never seen her that angry.
He sat there looking at the blank screen. It wasn’t even worth trying to call back. He was certain he’d be blocked. The only thing to do was go knock on her door and beg forgiveness. At worst, she’d just shoot him, and that would resolve all his conflicts. The longer he waited the worse it would be, so he got up and got moving to plead his case.

Chapter 11
Jeff had a couple of face to face meetings and then went to his old apartment. April’s friend and neighbor in Hawaii, and his renter, was back home, and had graciously told April any of them could use the tiny apartment any time she was gone.
It felt weird to be her landlord and guest too, but April assured him Diana could easily afford it without asking day rent. She’d paid them a huge compliment to assume they would treat her well by not leaving a mess or disturbing the few things she left there. Jeff was amused to see she was using the second bedroom pretty much as a walk-in closet. That didn’t leave enough room to fold down the bed in that bedroom as he’d planned. Rather than use her sheets and blanket he put a thin mattress pad right on top of her made bed. He could just roll it up when she returned and not have disturbed anything of hers.
He’d grown accustomed to having April’s door set to his hand, but still announced himself and waited for her to invite him in if she was home. He’d had very few reasons to drop something off in her absence, and didn’t think he’d ever feel free to stay there while she was away on the Moon or ship schedules or work had them on different clocks. Right now she was back but he hadn’t asked to join her until he got some things done. He’d be poor company.
It was nice not to be in his office space that he shared with an employee. They both slept there too. He could think and work without distraction. He noted one of her bottles of an impressive collection of liquor was quite low. He decided leaving a full bottle beside it would be a nice way to leave an anonymous thank you for the use of the place. When he went to order it, he almost reconsidered. The price in Australian dollars took most of three grams to purchase.
April had given him the address of her real estate agent to his phone before he left the Moon. It took him a little bit to find it again because he was looking for Milly, then tried Millie, before he looked at the root online and searched for Mildred and Millicent. Mildred it was, even though he soon found she advertised her services as Milly in video ad she ran in “What’s Happening”.
Jeff was hungry, but a lot of people offering professional services were only active on main shift and he wanted to get this done today, so he called first.
“Good afternoon, I’m Jeff Singh. My associate April Lewis bought some cubic through you and recommended your services.”
For some reason, she seemed amused.
“I know who you are, Mr. Singh. I’m glad April was happy enough to refer people to me. What sort of property are you hoping to find?”
“I’m hoping to sell a lunar property,” Jeff said. “I have no idea how to price it, so I’m hoping you can advise me on that or enlist someone who can.”
“I’m not sure it would serve either of us for me to handle a lunar property,” Milly admitted. “I’m not familiar with them, I have only been to Armstrong one time briefly, and I suspect all my fees would be eaten up by the expense of actually traveling there if I had to do that instead of showing it virtually.”
“Oh, I can see that,” Jeff decided after considering it. “Of course I can try to offset that by giving you a pass on any of the ships in which we partner. Or on Old Man Larkin’s line for that matter. Between the two of us that covers most of the Home-Central traffic. I could call and ask him to post you as a priority passenger on his line and you can walk on any shuttle he has scheduled without checking with me. He’ll just rob me, I mean, bill me later for it. I’d think you would want to go inspect the property first to make an assessment. Chances are you are going to sell it to somebody on Home or an Earthie. I’d be surprised if there’s a qualified buyer on the Moon. I asked my lady, Heather, if she’d care to sell it for me but she said she’s far too busy and to get someone else.”
“Heather Anderson?” Milly asked.
“Yes. We partner in so many things, I thought she might unload it for me. Actually, I have to credit her with the original idea to unload it,” Jeff remembered.
“You asked the freaking Queen of the Moon to broker a real estate deal for you?”
Jeff was a little taken aback at how loud she said that.
“That’s what she does,” he said, defensively. “She’s been selling all those lunar estates,” he said with an inclusive wave that encompassed Central.
“So it isn’t reselling one of her humongous properties?” Milly guessed.
“No, no. It’s technically under her sovereignty and protection but she’s willing, more than willing, to waive that. You are familiar with Camelot, aren’t you?”
“The Chinese place? I know of it but I’m not a gambler. If I were, I’d probably go to New Las Vegas. I’ve seen ads for Camelot. It showed all Chinese dealers and servers. Even most of the signage seemed to be in Chinese, as well as food and music. I think I’d stand out like a horse in church,” Milly said.
“Indeed. That’s part of the problem. They have frustrated every attempt to dilute the Chinese influence. I’m afraid most of the non-Chinese workers I tried to bring in felt as out of place as you suspect you would.”
“So, what sort of place do you have there?” Milly wondered. “Some sort of surface structure like most of Armstrong, or underground like your… lady Heather favors?”
“Much of it is above ground but sheltered under plowed regolith. The power and environmental systems likewise, and huge executive offices because they had way too many administrators. The casino is like that and built modeled on the rover garage and maintenance building but bigger. However, the new cubic to support the casino such as the kitchen and all the guest accommodations are tunneled, because by the time they went in we could borrow tunneling machines from Central.”
“I was asking what sort of apartment you keep. Are you saying you want to sell it all?” Milly asked.
“I’m probably soft-headed, but I feel responsible for them. The Chinese certainly felt I was when the ceded the place to me. But I don’t wish to sell the resident’s homes to an uncertain landlord even though they have been nothing but a pain in the butt to me. No, I’d like to deed the private residences to those living in them, and sell everything else as a package deal. The community infrastructure and the casino as a business, plus all the incidentals, rovers, supplies, and parts on-site to maintain everything.”
“OK, this looks to be a big enough deal to be worth a shuttle trip or two,” Milly said in a vast understatement. “I’m sure I’m going to want to bring an expert or two along for mechanical systems and other assets. For example, I have no idea what a rover is worth. It’s going to be complicated.”
“It’s been complicated, every single day. I’m ready to simplify,” Jeff assured her.
When Milly laughed at that Jeff looked a question at her.
“It’s funny because that’s the classic line people say when they have a child or two leave home and figure they can get along with a smaller place. I’ll encourage them to do it quickly before the kids find out how hard it is out on their own and try to move back.”
“Which reminds me. Cash buyers only. I’m not offering any financing,” Jeff said.
“Are you sure? Your buyer will have the casino income to tap,” Milly reminded him.
“I’m sure. I suggest you look in the ex-pat Chinese community for a buyer. It needs somebody comfortable in Mandarin. There are thousands of rich Chinese in the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia. I don’t suggest entertaining mainland Chinese buyers because of the history of the colony. Keeping control might be difficult. The residents already identify too closely with various mainland political movements.
“No wonder you want out,” Milly said, starting to wise up.
“Will you take it then?” Jeff asked.
“Contingent on examining it and agreeing on a price, yes,” Milly said.
“Then let’s talk more later,” Jeff requested. He was ready to go to supper and wind down for the day.”
“Anytime. I’ll set your code for priority,” she promised.
* * *
“Dude, she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Gunny told Irwin at the outer door of the lock entry. The inner door was closed behind him.
“I spoke without thinking,” Irwin admitted. “Will you speak for me?”
Gunny’s eyebrows went up. He and Irwin knew each other but he didn’t owe him that big of a favor. That was asking a lot for him to intercede with his employer. Even if April wasn’t his only source of income now, it was still a very cushy gig.
“I’ll speak later,” Gunny decided. “I’ve seen lots of feuds and arguments. It is very rarely useful to dredge up everything while feelings are still running high.”
“That’s good,” Irwin said, accepting it. “I’m going to proceed with Joel as if we had never had any sort of rift.”
“I don’t need to hear details,” Gunny said, holding up a forestalling hand. “Maybe later, if she wants to tell me too. Otherwise, it’s none of my business what you do.”
“Thank you,” Irwin said and had the sense to leave.
* * *
“Eileen and I are happy with you,” Victor assured Alice. “I suspect you have been easier to bring in our house than a lot of adults might have been. But there is something we have as a secret. Something we do in the summer, that we just can’t keep doing without you knowing. We’re just not comfortable doing it again this summer unless you do a very adult thing and agree to keep this secret for us.
“How can I decide without knowing what it is?” Alice asked.
“I guess it has to be more your judgment about us than the secret,” Vic said. “Do you think it’s reasonable to keep household secrets?” He avoided saying family.
Alice thought about it much longer than Vic expected.
“Have you trusted anybody else with this or is it just the three of us?”
That question surprised Vic. It was perceptive and unexpected.
“Our neighbor Arnold and Mr. Mast know parts of it,” Vic said. “You’d know more because you’d be invited to do some of it with us.”
“They’re good people. If you aren’t scared for them to know, I’m in.”
Vic nodded and Eileen looked rather intensely at Alice.
“Most Sundays in good weather we go upstream on our property and pan for gold. We haven’t actually used it for anything but to make our wedding bands,” he said, holding his hand up to show his ring again.
“The reason we keep it secret is in the outside world, in the parts still under North American law, it’s illegal to hold gold. If it became known we have gold and things return to normal at all the government will come to take it. The secondary reason is that people value it so much we might be inviting robbers to come to take it away from us.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” Alice protested. “Yes, your ring is nice and I understand why you wear it. I still see lots of people at the festival wearing rings and a few of the ladies still wear earrings. But you can’t eat it. It isn’t valuable like a blanket or coat, or a gun. You’re scared to even let people know you have it. It seems like more trouble than it’s worth to me.”
“It’ll likely seem even crazier to you if you watch us digging in the cold stream for it. It’s a lot of work and we can work all day and only get a little bit that you can put in the palm of your hand,” he said, holding a hand out to illustrate that.
“Then why are you doing it,” Alice demanded.
“Because it’s money. That’s why people have always kept it even if they made it into jewelry. That just allowed them to show it off when things were safe and they could flaunt it. It was money long before people started making paper money. It would take a lot of explaining how things work, and teaching you the history that you should know anyway, but paper money is too easy to make. Digital money when everybody was connected by computer and you could buy stuff with a credit card in any store is even easier to create. People just can’t resist making so much of it that it becomes common and loses its value.”
“But you guys still have real money in the bank and bought stuff with it like your phone when you went to Nevada, right?”
“Yes, I hear what you are trying to say. It doesn’t lose all its value at once. But if we go back a year from now it won’t buy as much as it did last time. It does that slowly all the time except sometimes all at once, and there’s no way to escape it. We can’t even earn that kind of money now and replenish what we spend, so eventually, it’s going to run out or not be able to buy much anyway.”
Eileen spoke up. “Gold and other metals are what the spacers use for money. We still want to go out there and they won’t take Earth money for much of anything. If they do, they spend it right away before it drops in value. Money in Europe has dates printed on it and goes down in value every week.”
“Wow, I never knew that. That’s crazy,” Alice admitted.
“I had a man try to buy .22 cartridges from me with gold at the festival,” Vic said. “I wouldn’t sell them because I’m not sure when we’ll ever be able to buy them again, maybe never. On the other hand, we have more gold here than we’ll ever dig out of the ground. I didn’t tell him why I declined the trade, but we know at least one other person is doing the same as us, mining for gold. We were going to offer you the chance to pan with us. You could keep whatever you find. Like I said, there is more than we can ever find. But if you don’t think it is worth the work to retrieve it you don’t have to.”
“I’ll come to see how you do it,” Alice agreed. “I’m not entirely convinced yet. So, you can have stuff like your rings, but you can’t have it not made into anything? That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.”
“A lot of laws don’t make a lot of sense,” Vic said gruffly. “People are attached to things like their wedding ring that have a lot of sentimental value. People would argue with them over letting that be stolen where a bag of nuggets or a cast bar doesn’t have the same sentimental attachment for them. Sometimes, they have the sense to not pass a law they know will be generally ignored and resisted.”
“If I work beside you and find some gold, can you make it into a ring for me? Is it very hard to do? Then I won’t have to worry about it being illegal.”
Vic and Eileen looked at each other, dismayed they didn’t think of that.
“It is a bit of work. I can do that, or teach you how to do it. We might do a deal where I make the ring for you in exchange for a little bit of the other gold you’ve found.”
“That sounds better. I’ll go along and see how hard this is to do,” she agreed. She still didn’t see the privilege as being a big enough deal to say thank you.
Later, when Vic was sure Alice wouldn’t hear, he asked Eileen. “Why did she ask who else knew? Did she think we were doing something criminal that we needed to hide from decent people?” He seemed hurt at her reluctance.
“Honestly I wouldn’t be offended,” Eileen told him. “I expect her to have trust issues for a long time, and you are a criminal hoarding gold. Just by the old law that may never come back into force here. Not by local community standards, which is what she was really asking by wanting to know who else knew about it. She cares what Mr. Mast and Arnold think, not some faceless official off in Vancouver.”
* * *
Nathan DeWalt appeared on-screen calling Heather. It was the evening at Central, and she was pretty sure he knew that. She was surprised he didn’t wait until tomorrow to call her. He’d called mid-afternoon before.
He looked like he could use a little sleep himself. He looked rumpled, and not only squinty-eyed, but he had an uncontrolled tick in the corner of his left eye.
“Ma’am,” Nathan said, inclining his head in something more than a nod and less than a bow. That was more respect than she’d ever gotten from him before.
“Mr. DeWalt. How may I help you?” She decided not to trifle with him. He looked on the ragged edge, and she didn’t want to nudge him off the precipice.
“I have no requests,” he made clear immediately. “You’ve kept your bargains through me, and despite the fact you’ve made clear you despise my nation and its leaders I appreciate you’ve kept your word. I want you to know I may no longer be a spox for Mars. I’m not certain if I have a job or even a nation. Indeed, have in mind if I call you again it may be under duress. I’d be very careful accepting an invitation to return to Mars. There were contingencies to deal with persons on Earth who were a danger to us. Now, I would not be surprised to find myself dealt with.”
It all came forth in a rush, pouring out of him heartfelt.
“You are distressed and not expressing yourself as well as you might,” Heather said as gently as possible. “Why are you saying these things? What happened?”
DeWalt blinked and stopped talking long enough to think.
“I got a text message from a Provisional Committee, no actual names given, though I’d know anybody who could be on it. I was told to wait for instructions and do nothing until I get those instructions. I’m so screwed.”
Heather nodded. He probably was. It was kind of sad and he was warning her not to get suckered into dropping a ship on Mars if he disappeared. She decided to be nice.
“You’ve already broken your orders by calling me. I appreciate that. This is like what I deal with every week when I hold court,” Heather said. “People get themselves in the damnedest jams, and I have to break stalemates, console those in shock over a broken relationship, and occasionally give unredeemable people the boot. The only difference is that here I have the option to have them ejected from my domain or just shoot them where they stand. I can’t do that with you. Nevertheless, if you want my dispassionate advice as a third party over your sudden break with your masters, I will offer it. I don’t often do that when I can’t enforce it, but it’s up to you if you wish it.”
“You would advise me?” DeWalt asked, astonished.
“For free,” Heather offered. “You may be too stubborn to benefit from it, but what else do I have to do this evening before I go to bed? I’m somewhat less rattled and thinking clearer than you in my humble estimation. I’m not stupid. I govern a modest little kingdom in my spare time.”
“You’re right, I have no idea what to do. Advise me please,” DeWalt requested.
“Do you have access to funds and discretion to move them?”
“Yes, I’m sole agent on Earth. I arrange banking transfers as instructed because some things must be done in person. But I don’t want to steal my government’s funds.”
“That’s commendable. Unfortunately, it sounds like your government no longer exists. If it does exist at all, it may only be in your person and authority. Are you prepared to return home to Mars if recalled and accept whatever disposition of your office and person they decide to impose? You will of course have a lot less choice about how you are treated once you’ve returned to Mars.”
“Tell me more,” Nathan said.
“Having been through a few tight spots, one outright revolution, and a ringside seat to the same happening in Armstrong, I can predict what is happening there. They are too busy crawling under gunfire, blowing airlocks with charges and running down fleeing rovers to be thinking about their solitary representative on Earth.”
Nathan nodded. “That seems likely.”
“That isn’t going to last long. Then, their attention will turn to securing everything else, including you. I sincerely believe that if you weren’t part of this Provisional Committee from the start, they will want to replace you with their own man. If they don’t have anyone available on Earth to recruit, they are very poor conspirators indeed.
“Your Martian power structure seems to be very Eurocentric. If I were you, I’d convert every euromark or other assets within your grasp to cash, and quietly relocate to somewhere with limited relations and extradition with the European Union. I understand Argentina is lovely this time of year. Many nice things can be said for some of the Asian venues too. You retained your old passport I hope?”
“As it happens, I still have my Norwegian documents,” Nathan said. “Mars has never created passports or much of the normal bureaucratic paraphernalia of nations.”
“There you go,” Heather said. “The clock is ticking.”
“Thank you. You do have a calm clarity of vision. I’ll take your advice.”
“How gratifying,” Heather said and disconnected.
Isn’t that going to surprise the Martians? Heather thought with a small smile.
* * *
“Ms. Lewis, I find myself deeply in debt to you and to your friend, Irwin Hall,” Joel Durand said. “Without his warning we would not have investigated Henri Colombe until a huge public scandal broke out, damaging to my administration and of no benefit to our nation. He indicated he did not have the resources to investigate this matter to the point he felt safe to speak to us, and you enlisted your assets to do a deeper investigation. The information about the Martians may not be as immediate in its usefulness, but we are holding it close and will undoubtedly benefit from knowing their true motives. My thanks and my wife sends her thanks too.”
April looked irritated. “So he did make a report? Good. Last I spoke to him he did not fully accept my findings regarding the Martians. He made fun of it and it resulted in quite the rift between us. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
Joel looked like a puppy kicked. “It is always hurtful to see friends argue. I do note you said you have not spoken to him, not the reverse. He did not speak ill of you, nor indicate there was any problem at all. Rather than let this become a permanent condition, I’d encourage you to speak to others, who like us, value both of you. As I recall you have business interests that touch each other. Think well how that works out.
“I have to contact him about some of the fall-out from forcing Monsieur Colombe to retire. I shall make him aware I am aware you have had a dispute. Long experience tells me there is no benefit to keeping such things secret in silence. Soon you are making lists of who you can invite to dinner without offending others and the cross-checking gets to be entirely too complex.”
“Thank you, Joel, give my regards to Mylène,” April said, not addressing the other issue at all. He terminated looking unhappy.
Joel called Irwin and explained the finding of their internal audit and the sudden decision of the head of the national bank to retire. He also indicated he would not place himself between them in any dispute between Irwin and April.
“You are magnanimous to allow Colombe to retire with his pension and status left intact,” Irwin decided.
“On the contrary, we are self-serving not to destroy him publicly, because it would create the very scandal we wish to avoid. The public could never separate us from our high official, even if we are the party bringing a complaint. I have no doubt he’s been involved in other crooked schemes, and in protecting ourselves we’ve guaranteed those other wrongs will probably never come to light. I don’t doubt at all he has other ill-gotten gains hidden away here and there untouched.”
“Yes, well that reminds me. I have a standard bar held on deposit for a property in his name. I assume he’s not going to follow through now on his plan to remove himself from your legal jurisdiction. How should I go about returning it?” Irwin asked.
Joel looked amused.
“That’s quite unconnected with anything we are doing,” Joel assured him. “Madame Colombe decided to sell her refinery and consolidate her other businesses and properties. It’s up to the Swiss and a few other nations to assess all the requirements of her divestitures. I don’t see any benefit at all to encouraging them to take a closer than normal look at their process. I do know nothing in the audit of the French bank found any of our bullion missing.
“If Colombe defaults on his purchase then I’d assume you will retain his good-faith deposit towards his purchase. I sincerely doubt he will contest that or even have reason to be seen communicating with you about it. Such things happen,” he said with a shrug.
“I see,” Irwin said. “Well, do inform me if that situation changes.”
“I will, but I am rather hoping for the whole thing to quietly go away, and the sooner the better. Thank you again,” Joel said and disconnected.
* * *
“You’re Lindsey Pennington, aren’t you?”
Lindsey looked up from her lunch. The woman leaning on the table across from her was an Earthie. She could tell because her face had those little tells of a crease in the outside corner of her eyes and she still retained some color from the sun. It wasn’t like natural skin tones, it was subtly uneven on the backs of her hands and her nose and cheeks. She was only in her early thirties but the signs of aging were already started.
“Yes, I am, but I don’t know you.”
That produced a rueful smile on the woman’s face. That she imagined herself better known than Lindsey had just demonstrated.
“I’m Maya Stone. I do travel and human-interest stories for the Atlanta Authority.”
“Georgia?” Lindsey asked. “Is it a gossip board or a news format?”
“Local and neighborhood news, but we try to cover national and international news enough from the services to be a one-stop with your morning coffee site.”
“So are you here for the travel or the human-interest side of things?” Lindsey asked, sipping her tea.
“I came up to do a story on New Las Vegas and saw you mentioned in another webcast I follow. When I checked I was surprised to find the shuttle from New Las Vegas to Home is much cheaper than lifting from Earth, so I decided to come, expand my story to include Home, and see if I could interview you.”
“Of course, it takes much more energy to get to LEO than past the moon.”
The woman nodded but didn’t seem interested in the why of it.
Something didn’t add up in Lindsey’s mind. Why hadn’t this woman called? Her com number was public. It felt like an ambush. Why would the woman feel she had to approach Lindsey in a public place instead of just asking for an interview? Some of the stories Sylvia related about her customers getting all weird on her came to mind. Some of the rich and famous felt entitled beyond the price of her art thinking they were owed more than just a carved slab. Lindsey took those stories to heart.
“Are you a fan of my art?” Lindsey asked.
“I didn’t know you were an artist until I looked up what I could find on you. There isn’t as much online of your work as I’d have expected. I’m surprised you don’t market yourself more aggressively. You don’t even have a store where your original art can be purchased. Just prints and most of those are marked sold out,” Maya said.
Lindsey scrunched her eyebrows together reviewing what the woman said.
“Why would I be mentioned in a webcast if not for my art? I live a very quiet life. I don’t get involved with politics other than when it is a theme in my images, I haven’t even been dating anybody to be mentioned in the local gossip sites. I don’t go to fancy clubs or private party rooms.”
“You don’t subscribe to a clip and search service to track any mention of you?”
Lindsey got an amused smile. “No, do you?”
“Of course. In my profession being know to the public is everything,” Maya said. “How often other information professionals mention me and how they regard my work will pretty much determine my public stature.”
“I already know the professional and scholarly critics think my art is childish, garish, and lacking in sophistication and depth. It’s regarded as dark and too space-centric.”
“You don’t seem very upset at that,” Maya said, it had the inflection of a question.
“I can sell every drawing I make and no matter how I keep increasing the price of them I still sell every one of them I want to. Most of the original drawings I keep unless somebody insists that they just have to own the original by waving a ridiculous amount of money at me. As you noticed, the prints sell out an edition of a hundred pretty easily. Why should I care what the critics say? My friend Ben Patsitsas has the same thing with his mystery novels. The people who have appointed themselves arbiters of what is worthy consider being popular as evidence his work is inferior the same as mine. It’s the only way they can feel superior I suppose, to insult the common people’s taste. We don’t need any gatekeepers and laugh all the way to the bank.”
“What are you going to do if your market becomes saturated and declines?” Maya wondered. “You are what? Seventeen? Eighteen? What will you do when you are thirty?”
“Most of my work sells to a market of about seven thousand people on the habitats and the Moon,” Lindsey explained. “The people on New Las Vegas, the Turnip, and even on ISSII can find it a little easier. I bet you never saw any of my work at home. Most people have to know how to bypass the net censors to even see my stuff. Very few people who buy my work on Earth post pix of it, because it’s spacer art and disapproved. If I wanted, I could put up a server in a free country like Switzerland and sell to a lot more Earthies. It’s pretty hard to saturate a market of nine billion.
“The thing is, I haven’t even started to explore other art. I do know fashion design but just play at that. The lady I live with does carved glass panels and I’m still learning how to do those and occasionally contributing new ideas in that media. I haven’t tried ceramics or oil painting, photography, or jewelry making. There’s no end of other things to do. Spacers appreciate thoughtful original designs and they can afford to pay for it. You have to be plain lazy or stupid not to be able to make a good living on Home.”
“Do you support your younger brother then?” Maya asked.
That jolted Lindsey back to reality. She’d dropped into a friendly chat mode too easily and hadn’t insisted on knowing Maya’s intent. She still hadn’t invited Maya to sit down even if she had dropped her guard a little. She wouldn’t now.
“My brother could support himself,” Lindsey assured her. “But he hasn’t been voted his majority yet. I’m still his guardian. I don’t regard him as a public figure at all so we shouldn’t talk about him. What sort of a webcast would even mention him?”
“John Foster’s What You Should Know. It’s a very well-regarded show and your mother was invited on as a spox for the Bureau of Labor Allocation,” Maya said. “She only mentioned her children in passing. Although she did make clear she was upset with the way Home beguiled both of you and permits child labor.”
Lindsey’s face hardened. “I am estranged from my mother. I won’t even take her calls. She should not be speaking of us in public if she doesn’t want the favor returned. Words have meanings. Beguiled suggests Home or Homies have taken advantage of us in some way. The truth is, the only person who has ever tried to steal my work or the money from it was my own mother.
“Not content to do that with my brother she abused him physically. She struck him so hard she put him in the clinic with a brain bleed. That was what finally pushed my dad over the edge to divorce her. If you want to do some real reporting you can run down that story. The Sovereign of Central doesn’t have to be concerned with offending anyone. She would probably give you an earful about why she kicked my mom out of her kingdom if you ask. She was happy to pay for her shuttle ticket just to be rid of her.
“Now, you’ve quite ruined a pleasant lunch and I don’t care to talk to you or ever see you again. If you don’t walk away from me, I’ll call security to complain you are harassing me. If you make yourself a pest to too many residents, they will put you on the next shuttle leaving. They aren’t too particular whether it’s somewhere you want to go.”
“Oh, that’s quite sufficient, Miss Pennington. I won’t bother you again.” She left quickly before Lindsey could say anything more or think about it further.
She might not know much else about Home, but Maya Stone knew there was no law prohibiting her from recording her interview with Lindsey. The pendant on her necklace was a small but very capable camera. Now using that interview in North America could be problematic. One had to tread carefully criticizing any government employee or official. The agencies tended to take criticism of one of their own as criticism of the agency and disloyalty to the government.
Simply quoting a foreign national, however, one had a lot more leeway. They were expected to be critical of North America, belligerent even, and one could avoid adding dangerous commentary on the interview. One could even take a critical stance against their statements while at the same time still letting the interview air third party opinions one could never safely say. Her media company and their legal department knew how to play that both ways to provoke people and suck in the best viewer numbers.

Chapter 12
Jeff was present but deep into something on his pad.
April was reading news summaries but couldn’t have repeated a single one.
“Am I being stupid about Irwin?” she asked Jeff.
“You are asking me questions about social things?” Jeff said, not looking up.
“You’re here,” April said.
“Did Heather tell you that you were stupid?” Jeff asked. “She understands that stuff.”
“No, but I didn’t ask her.”
“Did Gunny tell you that you were an idiot?
“Not outright. He won’t discuss it. He just looks irritated.”
“Hmm… You talked to Joel, didn’t you? Did he accuse you of stupidity?” Jeff asked.
“He explicitly said he wouldn’t get in the middle between us,” April admitted.
Jeff looked up finally.
“So nobody has told you it’s stupid. Wherever then did you get the idea?”
“Oh…. crap.”
“Uh-huh,” Jeff agreed and went back to his pad.
* * *
“In real estate, we set price several ways,” Milly said.
Jeff wasn’t big on picking up social hints, but she looked really tense to him.
“We can’t compare it to other sales because there are none. Sales of things like entire Greek isles tend to be very expensive but part of the attraction is usually the isolation and lack of a local population. I’ve found a few ghost towns for sale but they tend to go cheap. They are usually unattractive for all the reasons they failed as a town. It’s an oddity to have a property for sale that is an occupied ongoing community.”
“Don’t get too attached to that model,” Jeff told her. “Camelot was never an ongoing community in the sense of being able to sustain itself. They never tried to grow enough food to feed their population. It never produced any products to export. There was an effort to appear to be a research center, but it was mired in producing endless details about the Moon that weren’t original or groundbreaking. The only thing it produced was propaganda to support the image of the Chinese government.”
Jeff stopped with an astonished look of realization and his mouth open in surprise.
“Some sort of epiphany?” Milly asked, hoping it wasn’t a medical condition.
“I just realized what a sucker I’ve been,” Jeff admitted. “I’ve known everything about Camelot that I just told you. I’ve known it since the first inspection visit I made after the Chinese foisted it off on me. Yet all this time I have been treating Camelot like you just described it – as a normal ongoing little town with the same concerns and values of any community. With people in residence who have a personal interest and commitment to its success and living and working there. I knew that wasn’t true but it didn’t click until I said it out loud to you.”
“Sometimes, you don’t know you need to rubber ducky something if it appears to be working,” Milly allowed.
“The Chinese should have just abandoned it and yanked the population back to Earth,” Jeff decided. “But that would have been admitting the whole thing was a farce from the get-go. Instead, they managed to lay guilt on me to take responsibility for it as conquered territory. I’m in awe. I’ve been scammed, but I have to say it was by master scammers.
“In retrospect, we haven’t done too badly at all. The place has always been a money pit. A show town just like the old Soviets used to set up for foreign visitors. But Annette got it to the point of breaking even. With a little creative bookkeeping, you could argue it has even made a small profit. Now, I realize what a miracle that was since that was never a goal toward which they were working.
“All those impossible people she has been fighting with over everything were never meant to be real colonists, they are actors. It all makes sense now, the lack of working people and the abundance of administrators. They always were loyal to China and had no interest in Camelot beyond how they would be rewarded when they returned home. No wonder they are all angry. China abandoned them when it didn’t offer them free passage home.”
“Is this going to change your desire to sell it?” Milly worried.
“No! The opposite really. It was a lost cause. The only way I’d have made a real success of it would have been to strip the entire population out and send them back to Earth. China would have had a propaganda bonanza if I’d done that. They’d have painted me as the cruel conqueror and heartless landlord, ripping all these people from their homes and turning them into refugees. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what they hoped I’d do from the start. I’ll have that much more satisfaction selling it if I confound their plans and turn a profit from it too.”
“The other way of looking at a property is to consider what it would cost to replace it with new construction,” Milly said. “Usually, you can’t sell used for the price of new unless it has some special amenities like being on a lakefront on Earth or next to the elevators on a hab. Used properties always have systems with enough hours on them they are close to replacement, and things that are obsolete or just out of style.”
“The construction at Camelot is functional,” Jeff said, “But the standards for a lot of things like electrical outlets and standard heights and sizes of interior trim don’t match anything in use at any of the other moon bases. So if you go to remodel something you have to steal from another unit, do a short run fabrication, or decide to remake the whole thing to Central standards. The entire casino is built to Central standards. At least they use the same standard two-forty-volt power.”
“I wouldn’t volunteer that,” Milly said. “Speaking with construction people at Armstrong and Central I got an approximate number of three point seven billion Australian dollars it cost the Chinese to lift everything from Earth over the life of the colony. Very little of it was made of lunar materials on site. There’s simply no way to recoup that. Now, things are made from lunar iron and materials from the Rock. You could duplicate most of it now for a third of the price. Also, you are excluding the residences. Just some of the power equipment and electronics would need to be imported today. Again, they would be more modern too.”
“So, the final number you’d suggest asking?” Jeff asked.
“I’d ask one point nine billion Australian dollars for the full land parcel the Chinese claimed, the infrastructure, and the casino as a going business including the name.” Milly stopped and looked at him expectantly.
“Why Australian dollars?” Jeff asked.
“It’s the most widely sought hard currency in that part of the world where we will need to market Camelot,” Milly said.
“That makes sense. We can use Australian dollars. We do a fair amount of business with them, and they’ve been more stable than most Earthie currencies. I tell you what,” Jeff said, doing an approximation in his head. “Offer it for that number of Australian dollars, but also discounted to eight metric tons, if paid in gold. I know that’s a crazy discount if you believe the few official prices, but I don’t think they reflect reality. That number might find an offer.
Milly had been prepared for Jeff to argue either way. She hadn’t been prepared for him to accept it so easily. The potential fee was more than her lifetime earnings.
“I got it basically for free,” Jeff reminded her. “Anything I can get out of a white elephant will leave me way ahead. A cheeseburger next Tuesday is starting to sound pretty good.”
“I’d be shocked if any private buyer can come up with that much gold,” Milly said. “But a group of banks might consent to do a financing package in dollars.”
“There are lots of sovereign nations that can payout that much gold without making much of a dent in their holdings,” Jeff said. “Maybe India or Indonesia would like to have a lunar colony all at once, with no risk it will run into problems or cost over-runs.”
“I’ll write up the listing and send you a copy to put your chop on it,” Milly said.
Jeff frowned and considered. “You are taking a risk with your time on this. I don’t expect you’d care to risk unlimited advertising expenses. You’ll need a lot of things such as translation services you don’t normally have to payout. If you write up a plan, I’ll fund it and take the risk of it being wasted effort if we don’t find a buyer. You can reimburse me for it out of your commission, but only if we find a full price buyer, or you agree with me accepting a lower offer. Does that sound workable to you?”
“More than fair. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
“This is even harder than I expected,” Alice complained. The stream was recent snowmelt, ice-cold, and bone-chilling to hands or feet and she’d worked all morning and only collected about the same volume of fine gold flakes as an aspirin tablet.
“You’re young,” Vic reminded her. “You have no idea how it makes my old hands ache just to sort out the larger cold stones. Remember, it’s voluntary. You can stay home and house-sit if you want and I won’t complain at all.”
“I want to be able to buy some stuff at the fall festival or maybe even order it when you get some stuff from Nevada. How else am I going to get any money?”
Vic never stopped working his homemade rocker box but answered her.
“You don’t need money to get anything at the fair. Just trade goods. We helped you recover more trade goods than a lot of households have now.”
“I don’t know how to trade and I don’t want to let anything go. It’s so complicated, not like just paying for stuff. I’m scared I’ll let something important go too cheap and easy, and get cheated.” Alice said.
“For little things, you can grow something to sell if you want. I’ll let you put in a garden anywhere close to the house it doesn’t interfere with our crops or kitchen garden. You are welcome to anything in the woods if you want to trap or gather wild plants. You could grow feed and raise chickens or rabbits to sell. Eileen would share her instructions and let you hand copy them,” Vic said. “That’s a few ideas just off the top of my head. Trading little things will teach you to do bigger trades, or you can have somebody broker for you to trade valuable things. Mr. Mast does that all the time.”
Alice didn’t say anything for a long time. Vic wasn’t sure if she was put out at him or considering going back to the house. It turned out she was thinking about it.
“If I do something like that, I have to work at it every day,” she said finally. “If I get sick or just feel bad it can’t wait. This is hard but once I have the gold it can’t die on me or have a hawk or raccoon carry it away and eat it like rabbits and chickens, or go bad like eggs if you don’t seal them well enough.”
“That’s pretty much what we figured too,” Vic agreed.
Later, when Alice went off in the bush to ease nature and Eileen brought a bucket of pay dirt over, Vic remarked to her, “That girl is a thinker. She may take a while to turn a problem over and look at all the sides of it, but eventually, she seems to be able to reason things out.”
Eileen laughed. “I think she takes so long because she’s arguing with herself in her mind as much as she argues with us out loud.”
Vic grinned. “You might have the right of that too,” he concluded.
* * *
“Doctor Holbrook asked to demo something to us the next time all three of us were on the Moon,” Heather said. “I asked him to come by after dinner and show us. He says he has reproduced one of the alien devices and has a practical application.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to dinner too so we could get the talk-talk part of it out of the way? Jeff wondered.
Heather frowned and hesitated to answer right away. Prolonged silence from her partners meant she couldn’t get out of answering.
“Holbrook is brilliant,” Heather admitted. “The trouble is he knows it. He’s also good at extracting the best in the people under him. Despite that, I never hear him credit those people who he mines for ideas. I hear the little half-second pauses as he talks to me where he stops to think of a shorter word or simpler phrase. I’m pretty sure he is talking down to me but there is no way to call him on it. The man is very useful, but when you add up all those things, I don’t like Dr. Holbrook very much. Certainly not enough to want to upgrade him from employee to being our social peer.”
“Fair enough,” April agreed. “But if I think he’s talking down to Jeff I’ll call him on it and make him explain himself.”
“Go right ahead,” Heather said, amused. “That should be entertaining.”
* * *
Alice was raking the extra soil off the top of the row of potatoes they left in the ground over the winter, filling in the dip where they’d harvested the adjacent row last fall. Vic was driving a fork under them and turning the loose soil over to break it up. Eileen was filling one bucket with spuds to eat and another with small and misshapen potatoes to cut and harden to be replanted.
“I have two grams of gold now,” Alice said out of the clear blue sky.
“I know, I saw you set it on the scale,” Vic reminded her.
“It’s your gold,” Alice said in a troubled voice.
“Your potatoes too for that matter,” she added when he said nothing.
“Is that bothering you?” Vic asked. “Do you feel they are begrudged or something? I don’t plan on asking the gold back after you’ve panned it or the potatoes back after you’ve eaten them. Set your mind at ease if you were worried.”
“No! I’m trying to say thank you,” Alice said, exasperated.
“Oh, you finally got around to the point of it. You’re welcome,” Vic said.
* * *
“This is damaging to our use of you,” Linda’s handler explained after running the interview with Linda’s daughter Lindsey. “Physically abusing a child to the point of their requiring medical attention doesn’t set well with the public. It’s the sort of thing that you can’t effectively excuse or try to cover up. We aren’t going to schedule any more appearances for you.”
“What does that mean?” Linda asked. “Are you just cutting me loose”
“Not at all,” the agency man said. “You’ve simply been on loan from the Bureau of Labor Allocation. We’re releasing you back to them. I imagine you will be processing applications and issuing assignments. That’s what the bulk of their people do, working from home online. I’ll request of them that they don’t assign you to survey work where you have to beat on doors and verify compliance. That can be very challenging I’m told.
“A lot of people would kill for this sort of a cushy position with them. It comes with an apartment assignment and a C-level ration card, instead of negative tax barracks for singles and a public cafeteria pass that requires a weekly kitchen assignment. We will still regard you as an asset held back. You are one of only a few hundred people who have lived on Home and returned to North America. One of fewer yet who are free to return because you weren’t expelled from Home. If we need you, we’ll call on you.”
“Thank you,” Linda forced herself to say. She made a brittle smile that looked more like a grimace. It didn’t fool her handler but she was compliant. This meant she would be downgrading from a suite to an efficiency apartment, and from a B-level ration card to a C that didn’t let you in the better sit-down restaurants. That still let her take some of her allotment as cash, which a D card would have killed. Still, she wasn’t going to be buying any Hermes scarves or fine leather boots from what you could skim off a C card as cash, and use in the dark markets.
* * *
Dr. Holbrook had a hard suit for them to put on. He’d researched so it was a bit of a snug fit on Jeff and big on April, but fit all three of them, Heather best of all.
Jeff went through the full checklist and ritual of having April check him putting the suit on. Holbrook looked impatient but wasn’t stupid enough to suggest he abbreviate the process. One spent years training to not kill yourself in vacuum, and deliberately breaking that training would be a very stupid thing to do.
Holbrook brought along a hand transceiver for suit and ship frequencies in case they didn’t have one. He verified everything appeared normal and then suggested Jeff turn off his radio and see what he heard.
“OK, I’m turning it off for a minute,” Jeff said. “If I have any problem, I will lift my right hand and you guys should crack me open.”
“Roger that,” Heather agreed. Holbrook belatedly held his finger to his lips to indicate the rest of them should stay quiet.
The visor was set clear and they saw Jeff get a puzzled look that turned to wonder.
“What do you think?” Holbrook asked after the minute was up.
“Let the ladies try it without me prejudicing their reaction,” Jeff said.
April seemed unimpressed, but Heather visibly scowled.
“Your impressions?” Holbrook asked again.
“It’s kind of creepy,” Heather said. “I’ve never been in a sensory deprivation tank, but it has to be pretty close. I think I heard my heart beating.”
“All I could hear was my stomach rumbling,” April said with a shrug.
“It’s the quietest suit I’ve ever been in,” Jeff said. “The last one I had built for me has active noise cancellation upstream from the fans, that kicks in when they are at more than idle. The best they can reduce it is a bit less than forty decibels on high, like when you are in direct sunlight. This was so quiet I found myself holding my breath trying to hear something. That’s with it still maintaining a good flow. I could feel it on my face.”
“I’ve got safety concerns,” Heather said. “If my fans fail, even on a low setting, I still am very aware of it now. If I’m concentrating on something and this fails, I’m going to lose valuable time unaware I have a problem. It needs either a four or five-decibel background hum or a triply redundant alarm with both audible and visible alerts.”
“A good point,” Holbrook agreed, “but this air circulator is all solid-state. With no moving parts, it is much less likely to fail. The reduced stress and fatigue from less noise are well worth adding the warning systems.”
“It should be valuable for residential systems too,” Jeff said. “How were you able to reproduce it? I’m impressed it’s within our ability after reading your last report.”
“Believe it or not, this is just a first-generation device. The original alien device is somewhat quieter at less than a decibel. We’ll improve on it, but we haven’t been able to match the transfer of flow from the wall to the center of the bore yet. We went to four smaller tubes to get the same flow. It’s almost two decibels but we’ve shifted the frequency to the lower edge of human hearing. To boost flow across the full bore, we had to place some small airfoils sticking out of the wall. Like anything, I’m sure we’ll make incremental improvements until we’ve matched or surpassed the original.”
“It’s a viable commercial product right now if you can just get the costs down. It’s not the sort of a product for which we could keep the process secret, so I’ll have a patent attorney work with you to get as much protection as is to be had in Earth law. We won’t file until you have a handle on cost. And you and everybody on the team for this device will get the bonuses written in your contracts,” Jeff promised.
“Excellent, I’ll report again when I’ve made more progress,” Holbrook said. He took Jeff’s words as his dismissal and started packing up his suit and equipment.
When he was gone Heather told her partners, “Just be sure Dr. Holbrook doesn’t list himself as sole author. I know several other people made contributions.”
“I’ll have the attorney report to me on that,” Jeff promised.
* * *
The Assembly of Home met in regular session, both in the old cafeteria and online. They disposed of several questions, approved a budget and Mr. Muños asked for any other business that the electorate wished to consider.
“Mr. Persico,” Muños acknowledged. Eddie was in the cafeteria and stood.
“As most of you are aware. We have continued construction of Beta, orbiting the same point as Home. We are near putting the sections built under pressure while the first ring will be extended to a full circle. We’ll be putting a partial spin on it as soon as we have the structural components of the full ring in place.
“Once we get to that point, we will start actual occupancy. I’m going to own cubic on Beta and I’m speaking for several other owners today. We’d like to get ahead of the question that will arise and ask to be annexed into the same political entity as Home. We are so close physically and in terms of communications lag that we would prefer to operate under the same Assembly and vote.
“It would be inefficient to try to duplicate all the services of Home for a low occupancy level on Beta. There are major benefits to all staying under one umbrella. You know by starting together, there is much less opportunity to diverge in our interests and grow apart as separate communities. If such a thing happens in time, the residents of Beta can petition to separate in the distant future. We will have greater safety and stature with the Earth powers by having more than one location while speaking with one voice. Even though we are safer here than in LEO, it is better to have multiple points a hostile power would have to attack simultaneously to be assured of victory without expecting a harsh retribution in return.
“We benefit from not creating any barrier to trade and free movement. Businesses will have an expanding market instead of a static one. If we are a single entity then there is no uncertainty in how the Earth nations will decide to recognize Beta or decline to do so. Being all new construction, Beta won’t require any increase in maintenance expenses for a very long time. By the time it is equivalent to Home it will have a population sufficient to support it, so the old need not subsidize the new in any way.
“I’d like Mr. Muños to ask if the Assembly wants to have the question considered at this time. If you don’t think you know enough to answer you can put off considering it for now. If you want to decide today, then I ask it to be put to a vote. That will use up my two proposals for this assembly and if anyone doesn’t think those two proposals cover the question sufficiently, they will have to redefine them.” He sat back down.
“How do you people say?” Muños asked “All in favor of considering the question of annexing the hab known as Beta into the political entity of Home vote yea or nay, please.
The vote got ahead a thousand yea to three hundred nays very quickly. As often happened once an issue demonstrated that strong of a trend, people stopped voting. It was obvious which way it would end up and people didn’t feel strongly enough about it to vote just to make a public statement.
When the vote locked from timing out without further input Muños spoke again.
“On the question of annexing the Beta hab on request as a political extension of Home, how do you people say?” Muños intoned by the traditional formula.
The vote was slower this time and didn’t have a clear lead until three thousand votes were in. Eddie let out a big sigh of relief when it passed.

Chapter 13
April got up before Heather or Jeff and told the house to make coffee. It was so early Heather’s housekeeper, Amy, wasn’t in yet. She’d thrown on shorts and a t-shirt to be decent. She wasn’t sure when the woman would show up. She didn’t know Heather would have guests. She’d arrive soon, April hoped. She was hungry and didn’t want to cook. The woman was always happy when Heather had guests. Heather would be content to have oatmeal every day for years if it was just her at home. Guests let her exercise some skills beyond oatmeal additives.
She disposed of most of her messages by just reading the subject line and deleting them. Once again, she considered hiring a secretary or assistant just like Heather had Dakota. The problem was she didn’t always think Dakota was a good influence on Heather. It seemed dangerous to allow anyone to have a say in who you should hear. Look at all the times they had trouble with the Earthies, simply because the people in command surrounded themselves with layers of people who made talking to them directly, and quickly, impossible.
If the social secretary program she used failed, at least she had nobody to blame but herself. It was not an artificial stupid and it most particularly did not have any learning ability built-in. She had key words set that would allow a message from anyone to pop to the top of her queue.
Even though she got a news and intelligence summary almost daily from Chen she still browsed Home gossip sites and Earthie news channels herself every few days. She wanted news from Chen but realized he was a filter too. Even if it was nothing conscious, everyone had some bias from their own life experience.
Her snitching for solars network had a report that three different shipbuilders were buying a lot of titanium and platinum metals. They added that seemed to indicate they were planning on building landers. She knew they were, because of contracts they had with Jeff, but that was just the sort of thing she liked to have reported. The same person made several other reports, and wouldn’t know for which he was being paid, so she sent him five bits as encouragement.
A small article in “What’s Happening” said a very successful small band that was an early leader in the resurgence of the style known as the New Mellow Sound announced they would be emigrating to Home. They had previously removed from North America to Australia after being heavily censored and still found the environment in Australia too restrictive. Besides prohibited pronouns, the fact they had one female singer and four young men in the group was regarded as suggestive by government watchdogs. It probably didn’t help their cause that the spox for the group superficially agreed, saying, “Yes, singing is sexy”.
That was interesting enough for April to pay a bit to hear some of their music. She saved it in a folder for the next time she needed something to lull her to sleep. It was odd, the woman did sing actual lyrics, but as far as April could detect the men all seemed to just vocalize deep and soothing sounds.
“What’s Happening” had an occasional column called “Sightings”. April saw herself on it sometimes. The owner never allowed intrusive or snarky comments like some of the trashy gossip sites. Anyone who showed a little flash and style might have their latest appearance commented on. What caught April’s eye was Lindsey Pennington was remarked upon as accompanying Sylvia Anderson to the Quiet Retreat. But it was Lindsey who was named as an artist and described as “looking good”. She had been voted her adulthood, and certainly wasn’t a little girl anymore. This was just the first time April had seen her treated as a public figure.
Checking North American news, Arkansas passed a law that any citizen who was cited for failing to carry their phone in public three times in a month had to wear a public tracking bracelet like a child. Police expected the measure to reduce crime.
New York passed legislation adding having red hair to the list of protected groups after a series of attacks on gingers. Crimes against them would automatically be presumed hate crimes.
Disney news wasn’t heavily slanted to European commentary, but there was an article that the next supply mission to the Mars colony was in financial trouble and might not make the optimum launch date. None of the private donors would discuss why they were withdrawing support. April did a search of that article and some others, but there was still nothing about the refugees.
Still, April wondered if Joel had leaked her report to enough of his people to trigger this behavior? He’d been strongly warned that leaking the Martian’s secret might end up provoking conflict between Earth and Home. She was still conflicted over whether she’d done the right thing. Sometimes there is no clear course of action that will produce the best outcome, and once you pick what to do and execute it, you’ll never know if one of the other courses of action would have produced a better result. Jeff would tell her it serves no purpose to agonize over it after the fact. She’d mention it to her partners.
Chen’s morning report did have an article about problems with the Mars mission from a direct European source. April’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He added a note that there was an Interpol notice listing the Mars government spox as a wanted person, with a European Union arrest warrant for conversion. Whatever that meant… One more thing to look up.
Amy had to be in because April could smell sausage cooking. It wasn’t long before she delivered a muffin with sausage and egg for April to “Get you started.” All three of them had boosted metabolisms and hearty appetites. The odor quickly roused Jeff who came out with his hair in disarray and Heather a little later with her hair wet from the shower.
“Any war or disaster?” Heather asked seeing April reading the news.
“Neither for us. There’s always a few of both going on down below. There is one minor disaster for the Martians. The private foundation that bought the Sandman seems to have run out of enthusiasm. They put a delay on sending the next supply mission by withdrawing funds. If they do send it, they will be past the best launch window and have an extended voyage. Do you think my telling Joel the truth about the Martians precipitated that? Are the French or other Europeans quietly shutting down their Earthside support?”
Heather managed to look guilty, something that she wasn’t given to doing easily. It was so obvious even Jeff picked up on it and was staring at her.
“I didn’t know if he’d take my suggestion,” Heather said all flustered. “I should have said something to you. We got to doing other things, and I kind of forgot about it until now. Of course, I’d have remembered to tell you if we’d started talking about going to Mars again, though that’s in doubt now.”
“Back up. To whom did you suggest anything and why would it matter?” Jeff asked.
“DeWalt. He called me a few days back and informed me there was a coup in progress on Mars and he’d been ordered to stand down as spox for the Martians. To do nothing until they got it sorted out and got back to him. He seemed to feel he might not have much of a future, being associated with the previous regime. It was a kindness to tell us we would not be dealing with the same people as before if we did a third trip.
“He did indicate he had extensive power to act on their behalf, signing agreements, and doing banking. I pointed out he might be the only remnant of the previous Martian government left and no telling how he’d be treated if he returned to Mars and was completely at their mercy.”
“He’d be lucky if they didn’t pitch him out the nearest airlock,” Jeff said.
“Indeed, so I encouraged him to convert everything he could to portable forms and get out of Europe while the getting was good. He said he would, but one never knows,” Heather said. “People aren’t very good at taking free advice.”
“So he embezzled all the Martians’ money and headed for a tropical isle somewhere?” Jeff asked.
“Someplace without extradition certainly. I suggested that to him,” Heather said. “He might have been spox for a creeping criminal government, but he never appeared to be stupid.”
“No, no. Embezzled is such an ugly word,” April said. “The news said he was wanted for conversion.”
“I’m afraid that is a nit-picking distinction only lawyers are going to care about,” Jeff said.
“It may not be the best time to do another artifact pick-up,” April decided. “I didn’t trust the Martians before. If they have an entirely new leadership, we know nothing about, I wouldn’t count on it being less extreme, more friendly, and open to us. Especially if they have any clue Heather suggested their boy abscond with all the loot. No wonder their donors don’t want to kick in twice to bail them out. They already paid big to have special status and they probably wonder if they still retain the special status, even if they contribute twice.”
“Why didn’t Chen tell us about this?” Jeff wondered.
“It was a direct call. I never told Chen about it,” Heather admitted. “He’d have no way to know.”
“Well, at least we know Chen isn’t listening in on your calls,” Jeff said. “If he was, he’d find a plausible way of feeding that information to us to look on top of everything.”
“Oh, let me tell Chen, please,” April asked.
“Why?” Heather asked, not understanding at all.
“You are too nice and would explain the whole thing like you just did for us,” April explained. “Being mysterious and unpredictable is one of my few currencies with Chen. I’ll just tell him there was a coup and their spox took off with all the cash. I won’t explain how I found out. I never do, and he’s too proud to beg. It keeps him humble.”
“That’s positively evil,” Jeff said. He seemed to mean it as a compliment.
“I’ll use the data to update Joel and bind him a little closer to us. Then I’ll use the occasion to tell Irwin too, since he knows the story, and make sure he knows things are OK between us now.”
“Good. Good stuff all of it,” Jeff said, and went off to take his shower. He needed to think about when he could get back to Home to do some business.
* * *
“Thank you for the information, April,” Chen said. “I’ll add it to my situation sheets.”
She informed Irwin with the same brevity as Chen. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. I had no reason to do that,” April allowed.
“No, you had plenty of reason,” Irwin admitted. “If you have forgiven me, I’m glad.”
Both of those went well. She checked the time. Joel shouldn’t be eating or anything, so she called him.
“Really?” said Joel. “Well, that was silly of them to start ordering the previous regime’s man around when they had no handle on him, wasn’t it? I wonder if they understood just how much authority he’d been granted. We have persuaded several of the refugees from Mars to accept French residence. I hope they are a resource if we have continuing trouble with Mars. You can count them as your resource too since you’ve been so supportive.”
“Thank you, Joel. We’d hoped to get more information and artifacts from them, but all that is in jeopardy. It may just be too dangerous to land there for us. I don’t know if anybody will fund the Sandman making another voyage to Mars, but it may be the only rescue for the rest of them.”
“I know the Martians are not your favorite people. Did you three perhaps have a larger hand in this coup than you are telling me?”
“Honest, Joel, the first clue I had about it was a piece on Disney news, not even a European source, and nothing from our intelligence sources. I just got through informing them. My honest opinion is that it is unlikely to result in a more reasonable Mars command, easier to deal with.”
“Alright, thank you. We shall avoid being sucked into some ill-conceived rescue with the rest of the Union, based on false premises. We continue to hold your secret close,” Joel promised.
“Thanks again. If we are informed of developments outside the public eye, I’ll share them,” April promised him, and disconnected.
Joel looked at the last part of their recorded conversation with the veracity software running. The program informed him April believed her initial source of the information was Disney news with over 98% probability. She had informed her people and believed what she said about it not being an improvement by approximately the same percentage. It also said there was a 99% probability of there being much more to the story left undisclosed, by the small tells and twitches. Every time she decided not to say something there was some small spike. Joel wondered what the real point of the software was when a reasonably bright ten-year-old could have told him the same thing?
* * *
“I’m shocked,” Milly avowed. “I have five inquiries about Camelot already. I have yet to be certain they are all qualified buyers but at least two are, unless they are impersonators spoofing identities.”
“There are almost as many trillionaires worldwide as residents of Home,” Jeff pointed out. “Even though some countries have decided it’s just not acceptable to let an individual control that much wealth. Although even then, there are ways to control it without actually owning it upfront. It was an impossible sum for an individual to be worth not all that long before I was born.”
“They’ve all asked information. I’ve sent off what I knew and am researching others,” Milly said. “Your governor, Annette, is a treasure helping me. A very level headed young woman.”
“So I’ve been told,” Jeff agreed.
* * *
Vic got a text message on the satellite phone, that was the cheaper way to communicate and he was glad the pilot, Cal DeWitt remembered to use it.
Vic – I have your first bicycle at O’Neil’s. I hope to have the other two by the end of the month. There is a lot of pent up demand from over the winter and I’m making two flights a week favoring light items first.
That was good of Cal to give him some notice so he could plan a trip to O’Neil’s. By the end of the month, it wouldn’t be into the heat of summer yet. Their long walk should be fairly comfortable.
* * *
“Jeff, do you have a minute?” Eric asked onscreen.
“I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t,” Jeff said bluntly.
Eric nodded. He sometimes forgot Jeff didn’t have the same social responses he expected in others. He wasn’t trying to be rude. His ladies had made a lot of headway on that problem. Even with being much younger, Eric had more gracious social skills.
“I’m wondering if we should run off a bunch of five and ten-gram solars?” Eric said.
“Why?” Jeff asked. “Nobody liked them and complained they wanted quarter and half solars rather than gram denominations. We had to pay to have more dies made and it took a long time to use up what we’d already coined, except the one gram. They still like the one-gram. I have no idea how people decide these things.”
“I was just looking at personal ads in “What’s Happening”. There is an ad for two ten-gram solars for sale for a full solar. It made me search and I found other five-gram and ten-gram solars being offered for a premium. Now that you can’t walk in Irwin’s and ask for them, it seems they are becoming collectibles,” Eric explained.
“People want whatever they can’t have,” Jeff said, amazed.
“Well sure. Value depends on scarcity a lot. But how do you feel about that? Do you want solars to trade over face value?” Eric asked. “If we make more it will nip that in the bud.”
Jeff looked abstracted, thinking about it.
“It never seems beneficial to destroy value, even if we inadvertently created it. What have these people done to harm us that we should devalue their coin, legitimately obtained? No, what I would suggest is this. Next time you schedule some production, have a hundred each of five and ten-gram coins run off. Our coins are not dated, so these will be entirely authentic. If you will agree with me not to sell them off for a reasonable period, say ten years minimum, we’ll split the run and hold them to let them appreciate significantly. Is that agreeable?”
“That’s brilliant,” Eric said. “I’m entirely agreeable to that.”
“Oh, and Eric?”
“Yes, Jeff?”
“I’m not entirely familiar with the numismatic culture. I vaguely remember there are special coins issued for anniversaries and events. If you would, look into that for us. Perhaps there is an added value worth tapping there.”
“I’ll look into it and issue a report with suggestions,” Eric promised.
* * *
“Mr. President, before there is any more extensive discussion, I need to make clear from the very onset that France is unalterably opposed to the Union resuming support for the Martian endeavor. We speak for at least one other Council member that this should never progress to being an ‘A’ item on our agenda. We are prepared to withhold financial support in proportion to whatever the Parliament might eventually approve, and we are prepared with our partner to embargo the continued support of several critical systems made in France that the Sandman needs,” Joel threatened.
Fabian Reg looked at Joel, shocked. He hadn’t anticipated there would be any opposition to the proposal. For a certainty, not opposition with such vehemence.
“I understand many were offended that the Martians decided to separate themselves from us politically,” Reg admitted. “But the majority to whom I have spoken still see them as sharing a cultural heritage with us. The spirit of discovery is honored and many hate to throw everything invested away in a snit over who is credited. They are seen as serving not just Europe, but the human race, and there is compassion for the fact the mission has the aspect of a rescue now. It is less than a two billion euromarks to preserve the trillions invested in the entire project. It may cost that all over again if we fail to rescue them.”
“If you wish to run a rescue for them, structure it that way,” Joel suggested, “bringing those in danger back from Mars, not continuing their presence there. It will take another mission every two years to maintain them with no assurance they will ever resume the burden of their support. This will be a continuing burden.
“Indeed it is over a lack of cultural continuity that we withdraw our support. The Martians have hired transport from the Kingdom of Central and ousted a considerable number of the researchers whose work was the entire basis of their continuing presence. Despite naming themselves a republic, we have testimony from those expelled that Mars is now run with a complete lack of democracy by leaders who simply dictate to their population. Many of them accepted being removed in fear of their lives after the supposedly vital research that was the reason for the facility’s existence was canceled. In short, their private supporters were not arbitrary. They had this and other reasons to withdraw their support.
“If they wish to continue on that path let some other government or private individuals pay for it. France has no desire to lend our name or treasure to their support,” Joel finished.
Reg looked around the Council and was shocked to see the heads of Germany, Italy, and Portugal were staring at him with stern disapproval. He wasn’t even sure which one Joel was speaking about when he intimated that he had another vote in his pocket. Worse, a number of the smaller states had nodded agreement at the end of Joel’s comments, and he saw the signs several were in private discussions about it. The atmosphere was so obviously unfavorable he didn’t want to ask Joel for proof of his claims.
“I thought the idea would be unanimously approved. Given the unexpected opposition to the matter, I withdraw it from discussion,” Reg said.
* * *
“In about a month we are going to go pick up our bicycles at Mr. O’Neil’s store,” Vic told Alice. “When we return, we’ll be able to go faster. I’m going to take a little longer return route over by the state highway and collect some solar panels as you suggested.”
“The ones that run highway signs?” Alice asked.
“Yes, I know where there’s a line of flashers on a long downhill with a curve. I want the panels and batteries. I may take some of the LEDs, and Arlo told me he wants the aluminum poles they are on if we can reasonably bring them back too.”
“If they are still there,” Alice said, dubiously.
Vic shrugged. “First chance we’ve had to get to them,” he pointed out. “But going over on the state highway may still be a little risky. Do you want to take that risk with us?”
“When I’m getting a bike out of the deal? That would be pretty ungrateful of me not to,” Alice declared. “Why don’t we go to your curve from the closest place we can access the highway and get back off as soon as we can? Even back-track a bit if we need to rather than press on down the state Highway too far?”
“That’s good thinking,” Vic agreed. “We’ll make every effort to stay safe.”

Chapter 14
“He doesn’t want to see it?” Jeff asked.
“I know, it surprised me too. If I were paying this kind of money for something, I think I’d want to look at everything, especially the important parts like the environmental systems.
“He could send somebody to inspect it. People do that with a house.”
“Whose side are you on?” Milly asked pointedly.
“I do take your meaning,” Jeff agreed. “I would not actively discourage him from buying. I admit I might question a Home businessman who didn’t seem to be guarding his interests. We have a different expectation of community in our dealings and I’d be concerned he might be dissatisfied later.”
“I’m obligated to present any offer,” Milly said. “You are not obligated to take it. I don’t believe in Central or Home there is even any obligation to take a full price offer. You could decide I priced it too low and withdraw it. In any case, this is a counter. Liem Handoko is bidding for a consortium of partners from several nations. They offer eight-hundred million Australian dollars and four tons of gold with you responsible for lifting it to orbit and on to wherever you wish it to end up.”
“Who are his partners?” Jeff wondered.
“Does it really matter? Do you want me to demand a list?” Milly asked.
“No, no. I’d be put off if somebody asked that of me for a cash deal. Their creditworthiness isn’t any concern of mine if I’m not financing it. That is a generous offer in my estimation, but I have concerns about where I can safely load and lift that much gold,” Jeff said. “Most Earth nations are not friendly to the private ownership of gold. I can picture myself having assumed custody by local law and find it seized before I can leave with it.”
“I thought you were on rather good terms with Australia,” Milly said.
“We are, by Earth standards. I’m reminded of what happened with Irwin Hall. He thought he was on good terms with one side of the North American government, only to find another agency was willing to brand him a criminal and jail him for their agency over the other.”
“Then the amount offered satisfies you?” Milly asked.
“Yes, I was near ready to walk away from it. Getting anything is wonderful. You might have been shocked how low I’d go if we hadn’t received any interest at all. But I’d like to be able to collect it safely. They tend to get rough with you down there. Ask Irwin.”
“Then specify where you are willing to accept it. It’s a counter to add conditions but I can see where you need to do that. If they refuse… then maybe it wasn’t a good faith offer anyway,” Milly concluded.
“We have an ocean-going ship that stays in a remote area of the South Pacific and acts as a landing pad for shuttles. That’s a possibility. The other choice might be Hawaii. Give me a couple of hours to talk to April. She was talking to me about Hawaiian money and policy recently. It left me thinking they will be more favorable to commodity-backed currencies. We have the ear of someone who knows the situation on the ground there. I’ll ask her to inquire and see if it is safe to do a transfer there. We already land shuttles there occasionally, but with more mundane cargoes.”
“I’ll write it up both ways and be ready to send it when you can get back to me,” Milly promised, and ended the call.
* * *
April was surprised to see Joel on her screen. “Monsieur Durand,” she said nodding.
“Dear lovely sweet girl… stick to English. Your accent is abominable.”
If he expected her to take offense, he was disappointed. She laughed.
“I’ve been studying Japanese for years and am nowhere near mastering it. I don’t think I have a knack for languages. Now is hardly the time to take up French seriously. You have an accent to my ear, but it’s nowhere near abominable to me.”
“Thank you, I suspect we are more… sensitive about it,” Joel admitted.
“We don’t even have legal definitions,” April pointed out. “I can barely understand some Brits or Australians who are native speakers. How bad could you sound? I understand you.”
“Good, because I would rather discuss sensitive matters directly without a translator. Since you have shared confidential things with me, I feel compelled to return the favor. Perhaps we can continue to build on the relationship, even if we are competitors in some areas.”
“I expected you to share what I told you with Mylène, and perhaps Pierre.”
“Perhaps not Pierre,” Joel insisted. “Pierre is… obvious.”
“Readable,” April suggested in agreement, “like a book.”
“Without guile, no rusé,” Joel said. “Which is not without merit, in a saint.”
“That’s why you sent him to us ill-informed,” April reminded him.
“Of course. If I told him I might as well inform the press. But he has the advantage he’s so scrupulously honest he won’t invent authority to come back with a deal we didn’t want. But I have something new to share if you’d like to keep trading secrets,” Joel said and gave her a wink that made her laugh again.
“Please, though I have no idea when I’ll have a secret to trade again.”
Joel waved that away like a fly. “Pierre offered you a trade secret. A process to manufacture fuel instead of simply collecting it.”
April nodded she remembered.
“Without giving it away freely, be aware someone else seems to be buying up materials necessary to the process. We have no idea who, yet. But I thought you’d value knowing.”
“Oh, yes. I think Jeffery in particular will be very interested. I do owe you one,” April said.
“My dear, you may owe me two or three if it proves its value.”
“We’ll see,” April said, and disconnected.
Now, if Chen and company could find an unusual pattern of materials purchases, Jeff might be able to deduce the process inside that particular black box. April smiled.
* * *
“The Business Minister of the Hawaiian Republic assures us that it is in his purview to allow free trade and transport in precious metals,” Jeff told Milly. “Indeed the freedom to do that and some other things that other nation-states are forbidding is part of their plan to attract business and the emigration of wealthy individuals to the islands. So you may go ahead and offer Mr. Handoko’s group the price and terms they want but with delivery to The Isle of Hawaiki, loitering in international waters in the South Pacific, or to the Big Island in Hawaii.”
“You folks do know the oddest people,” Milly said.
Jeff looked at her quizzically. “Does that include yourself?”
He didn’t understand why she guffawed and terminated the call shaking her head.
* * *
“Miss Anderson,” Dr. Holbrook said appearing on her screen. “We have the third sub-laboratory prepared to receive an artifact and I am curious if you have any timetable for when we will retrieve it?”
“That’s kind of up in the air at the moment,” Heather admitted. “If you have somebody sitting twiddling their thumbs waiting for it, you might as well assign them somewhere else. The situation has changed radically on Mars. There was a coup, the old administration is gone, and we don’t know anything about the new one. It may be too dangerous to land to take on more passengers or the last artifact. We have no idea if they will honor the deal of the previous government, and they have such serious problems they may be driven to desperate measures. I’ve never trusted them, and they could try something stupid, like a hijacking.”
Holbrook paused, looking thoughtful, probably parsing the conversation in his mind.
“If their revolution was successful, why are they so desperate?” he puzzled.
“It was successful on Mars, they didn’t attend to the detail of making sure it was successful on Earth. They didn’t have the patience or foresight to see the need for that. It was bad planning. Revolutionaries tend to be emotional and spontaneous. They often are good at overthrowing without being able to attend to the details of governance afterward.
“I’m guessing the wealthy supporters on Earth were left uncertain if they still had a special relationship with the colony so they withdrew support. The Martian consul, who was given frightening orders and no reassurance he had any place in the new regime, absconded with the entire fund of the previous administration. That leaves them without any way to fund or force the launch of the next supply mission by the Sandman.”
Holbrook looked horrified. “Is anyone tracking this thief down?”
“Got me, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys,’ as the saying goes. I suggested he run before they rewarded him the same as the rest of the previous government. If he’s too stupid to disappear with a few hundred million euromarks to fund it, I’m not going to hold his hand to tell him how. I already gave him a few hints about extradition and such.
“I wouldn’t get too invested in condemning him. He had clear authority to manage the funds and disperse them. You could make a good case that he is the entire legitimate Mars government in exile now. Why would he want to fund the people who just killed off his people? There aren’t any good guys in this story to root for, believe me.”
“You suggested it? But, it’s just him versus, what? A couple hundred on Mars?” he asked.
“Oh, Jimmy, if you really believed the meme that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, you’d have gone back to Earth when Armstrong wanted to ship all of you back. Didn’t their billions need you more than serving your own selfish goals up here? I bet that at your core you know the Earthies’ needs are bottomless. They would swallow up your life like nothing. Show no improvement for your sacrifice, and spit you out with no reward.”
Holbrook nodded before he disconnected, which was just perfunctory acknowledgment that he’d heard, not agreement, Heather was sure. He still seemed horrified beyond even making a reply to her. She might have gotten through his shell and scared him. If he thought she was safe because he was so much smarter, he needed to learn differently, before he found himself standing before her judgment someday.
Heather considered that she might regret taking Holbrook’s oath. She had known him for a much shorter time than others before accepting his oath. That might be a lesson to remember. If he wanted to be released from it, he’d be the first and she’d grant it. She wasn’t going to strip him of it without a request. He was welcome at Marseille too, and could probably get citizenship there easily enough.
For that matter, Armstrong was no longer under North American control. They would probably take him back now if he wanted. She wouldn’t beg him to stay. He was an asset to Central and her partnership, but dealing with his peculiarities was difficult. Coming to a clear understanding about anything with him was much harder than dealing with Jeff, without the advantage of him being anywhere near as likable.
* * *
“Good morning April.” Jeff was looking positively elated, which looked weird. He hardly ever smiled anything but a wry smile of amusement. It looked unnatural on his face.
“Why is it so good?” April asked cautiously.
“I just unloaded my white elephant. Camelot had to be a trap of historically epic proportions,” Jeff said, demonstrating big with his hands, “the Chinese authorities who engineered abandoning it must be watching in dismay as I sell it for a profit.”
“Milly fixed you up?” April asked hopefully since she’d recommended her.
“She did a marvelous job. I was prepared for it to takes years not weeks. She gets five percent and I had advanced funds for marketing against that, but she exceeded my expectations so well I’m just going to eat that. It was less than fifty thousand Australian for listing services and professional translation services for her web presence.”
“Are you going to give Annette a little something like we discussed?”
“I thought to pay her the same as Milly. Does that seem reasonable to you? She worked longer and harder, but she was paid for that all along. This is all a windfall bonus.”
“I don’t know,” April said. “How much did you get for it?”
“Eight hundred million dollars Australian and four tons of gold,” Jeff said.
His eyebrows came together and he appeared to think hard suddenly.
“I should just pay them in gold, shouldn’t I? We can dispose of the Earth money doing business far easier than them. What are they going to do with dollars? Order all sorts of things lifted to convert it? Buy equities like Eddie? Even Irwin would have trouble exchanging it.”
He nodded to himself and calculated.
“Given the fiction that the payments are roughly equal, I’ll give each of them sixteen thousand solars. At least on account. I have no idea what form I’m getting. We’ll have to coin it, I’m sure.”
“That’s four kilograms. That’s generous, not making them take junk dollars like you are. If they aren’t happy with that, they’re greedy. It wasn’t that long ago we struggled to raise any cash,” April remembered.
“Australian dollars aren’t so bad,” Jeff objected. “Not like NA dollars or euromarks.”
“But you are going to spend them first, aren’t you?” April insisted.
“You better believe it. How about if I take you to dinner in Honolulu to celebrate?”
“Are you nuts? Haven’t I cured you of visiting the Mud Ball?” April asked. “I knew there was going to be a dark side to this when I saw that grin.”
“Well, the gold has to be picked up. Diana has been pestering you to visit your house, and it seems rather safe in Hawaii right now.”
“You’re going to pick up all four-tons at once?” April asked. “The Chariot will handle like a pig and be vulnerable. Is it even within your DeltaV to get it safely back to Home?”
“We jumped out just fine below orbit before. I figured I’d just lift a few kilometers and jump clear of Earth. Otherwise, we would get back pretty dry,” he admitted.
“As a regular thing, not just for emergencies? In front of everyone?”
Jeff just shrugged, a little sheepish. “It works or it doesn’t. I’d much rather have you sitting the second seat and weapons board than anyone else.”
What could you say to such a compliment?
* * *
“The number of North American flights to ISSII and most of their military satellites have dropped off considerably,” Chen said. “They have increased lifts to the military satellite they keep parked looking right down at the center of their continent. It’s also one of the few manned sats at the geosynchronous level.”
“How very interesting. Do you have any idea what they are up to?” April asked.
“All I can tell you is they used a couple of heavy lifters. If it wasn’t massive it would be much cheaper to do multiple small launches or use shuttles. It’s inconvenient to watch them. I’d need to place three satellites in either a slightly higher or lower orbit to have one looking at them continuously. They’d likely figure out that was their purpose quickly.”
“Could you find a gap and put our satellite at that level looking across at it?” April asked, illustrating what she meant with hand motions.
“If you want me to start another war,” Chen said. “It’s crowded at that level. Since the UN was effectively destroyed, all the parking spots that they officially granted have been jealously guarded. Arabia even made a huge voluntary payment to Afghanistan to acquire a spot they owned. It could reignite the controversy that happened when we planted ourselves here.”
“We often rent time on surveillance satellites,” April mused. “Could we buy time and have them turn the camera to look across at the American satellite instead of down?”
“I’ll have to ask. I’m not sure if the optics can focus at different distances or if they are built narrowly to look at Earth. Also, we don’t usually buy the entire feed from a sat. We buy a window cut out of their larger image. They sell the entire thing or other blocks to multiple customers. We pay for running the software to separate our image, and the bandwidth to send it. If we make them drop other feeds, they will charge a lot more. Realigning the satellite and back when we are done will cost too. Expect it to be pretty expensive.”
“That’s OK, this is one of those cases where my gut feeling is that we need to know what’s going on far more than economizing. Don’t even tell me how much it is so I can’t chicken out. Have you told Heather and Jeff?” April asked him.
“I have, but they haven’t responded to my call. I didn’t see the need to give it a high priority. Whatever they are doing has been ongoing for weeks now.”
“Neither would I,” April agreed. “I’ll add a few relevant terms to my own… searches.”
In about a half-hour she got a text. Chen didn’t bother to call her again. It had a link for the video feed, informed her it could be zoomed by a factor of 150x and named where it was being archived in its entirety. The man was a marvel.
* * *
Vic and Eileen considered taking the satellite phone to O’Neil’s After talking it over they decided it had no advantage. If they ran into trouble there was no one in a position to come help them. If they wanted to order something from Nevada, they still wouldn’t get it delivered until the next time they made this journey. It was just something else to carry and at much more risk than leaving it locked up at home while their neighbors house-sat.
They saw nobody on the road between home and Mr. Mast’s. They did see a family of four working in a big garden beside their home. They waved hoping to show they were friendly. The parents looked up and then went back to work. Their young boy remaining standing, keeping an eye on them until they passed from sight.
Mr. Mast had two workers putting his garden in too. It was a big enough project that they were staying with Mast and were back at it when the Foys left for O’Neil’s in the morning.
Along the road, they came upon a woman standing by her mailbox. She introduced herself as Mrs. Parton. She knew them from others pointing them out at the festival, but didn’t do any business with them, and had never been introduced. She asked Vic if they would take a sack of seed potatoes down the road to the chicken farmer and bring back a packet of sewing needles from Mr. O’Neil’s store?
“I’d be happy to take your spuds to John, ma’am, but we aren’t coming back by this route. If you like, I’ll ask him to send them with any trusted person coming this way.”
“That would be fine, thank you. Just tell him to have them left in the mailbox,” she said, waving a hand at it. Their family name was hand-painted on the side. Her expression said she wondered why they wouldn’t be returning, but folks tended to mind their own business now.
“She didn’t know it was us when she walked out on the road,” Eileen observed. “It was only after we were close that she could recognize us. I’m not sure that was wise.”
“I’m with you,” Alice said. “Folks don’t take their kids into trouble.”
“Probably true,” Vic agreed. “But the way you are growing you won’t look small at a distance much longer.”
“Good, stuff should get easier when I’m bigger,” Alice said.
John thanked them for the seed potatoes and inquired how Eileen was doing raising chickens? He listened to her losses, said she was doing fine for a beginner to have more survive than were lost, and made a few suggestions. They didn’t stay long enough to sit down, anxious to press on to O’Neil’s.
O’Neil assured them he had a customer go down the road that direction every two or three days to take Mrs. Parton’s needles to her. He took them to his shed right away because Alice was about ready to bust, wanting to see the bikes. A few turns around the yard on them satisfied her and they locked them up and went to dinner. Vic tried to offer payment for dinner, and O’Neil gruffly turned him down. Just gruffly enough to establish he wouldn’t ask again.
* * *
“The North Americans are assembling a vehicle,” Chen said in the morning report. “It has been seventeen years since an Earth nation did an orbital assembly other than the Sandman. The modules they are assembling are seven meters in diameter and incomplete, so we have no idea how long they intend it to be finished. It may have a more complex geometry than what the initial construction makes it appear.
“I don’t see any other explanation than that it is for long range interplanetary flight. Where and why remain a mystery. The only suggestion put forward by my people is that they are assembling their own dedicated Earth orbit to Mars orbit vessel. That would assume they reached some agreement with the Martians to replace the Sandman as a dedicated supply vehicle, and bind Mars to North America politically instead of Europe.
“Given all the problems in North America at the moment, it seems a huge and expensive undertaking with little potential for any return, much less an actual profit. Likewise, a huge project for national prestige doesn’t seem likely when they have so many other demands on their budget and productive capacity. Your direction on further investigation and your general thoughts about this would be appreciated.”
Jeff sighed. “Chen is usually more perceptive than that.”
“It’s a big leap mentally,” April said, defending Chen. “I think I have the dots connected, but I’m still a little worried. I’d hate to tell you what I think only to have you sigh and say I’m usually more perceptive too.”
“Nah, you are a master of extrapolation from insufficient data,” Jeff insisted.
“OK, somebody has been buying up crap to make Helium3 according to Joel. We haven’t found out what yet. Joel wasn’t too helpful on that, fearing you’d figure out the process.”
“That we’d figure it out,” Jeff objected modestly.
“My helping discover this process is about as likely as my figuring out our star drive without any input from you,” April said.
“Well, you did give me the old fish eye over his shoulder and keep me from giving the whole thing away when I was speaking to James Weir. If I’d said gravity isn’t a constant it would have been game over. He was smart enough to put the whole thing together from that.”
“You encourage me. Anyway, somebody isn’t copying France’s fuel process for a new line of BBQ grills. Whoever was doing that would be using it in a starship soon. So North America is our somebody since they appear to be building a radically different new ship. Unless we have another player in the game who hasn’t revealed themselves yet.”
“Right you are,” Jeff replied, “but it’s worth mentioning that they may be stealing the fuel process but they also have to be well ahead of France in the basic design. Weir’s ship was minimalist, built like a race car to achieve jump and little else. The size of this new vessel indicates they don’t have such a narrow performance envelope. It may be able to haul freight and sustain a longer mission.”
“You said to steal the fuel-making system. Does Joel have a leak?” April wondered.
“Discoveries happen, then the underlying theory and engineering advance to the point the next little step to a new process becomes obvious. That’s entirely how I do business. I don’t flatter myself that I’m a giant intellect who invents entire new fields of knowledge. It may be North America came up with the same solution on their own.
“The information still has value even if it wasn’t stolen. You seem to have a relationship with him now for trading information. Perhaps you should let him know that France isn’t going to have an exclusive lock on star travel among Earth nations for very long.”
“He might already know,” April speculated.
“You think they sold the process?” Jeff asked. “I don’t think so. Certainly not to North America. You value an image of having deep intelligence assets. Don’t tell me you don’t,” Jeff said when she made a face. “You might tell Joel about this early, because once they launch everybody is going to know.”
“You’re that certain?” April still asked.
“You pointed out the obvious yourself. It doesn’t fit any other use. It’s not a local energy generating system, it’s an energy concentrating process.”
“I’ll tell Chen too,” April decided. “He may waste time and resources trying to run down dead ends thinking it’s interplanetary instead of interstellar.”
“Why not?” Jeff agreed. “He’s already freaked out by the weird connections you make, but it never hurts to rub it in a little. It keeps him humble.”

Chapter 15
O’Neil was on the list of satellite phone owners Ted Foster shared when they joined his net. He’d never revealed that he owned a phone to them before. Now that they were insiders, he spoke to them about some of the group’s informal agreements, hopes, and plans.
“You don’t have to,” O’Neil said, “but the rest of us have agreed to forward messages for Arlo Ritner if it’s a matter of public safety or even a hazard specific to a fellow phone owner.”
“I’d have done that anyway,” Vic said. “But if he becomes our official lawman for the county, I think we should buy him his satellite phone for official use.”
“If he becomes official, he’ll be the sheriff,” O’Neil said. “That title carries a lot of history in English law. I doubt whether some of these folks can afford to chip in. If it comes to that a few of us who are better off may have to do it on our own. I think four of us can do that.”
O’Neil, Mast, and himself. Vic thought, and wondered if Ted Foster, the radio net guy was the fourth? It seemed likely. He wondered if Ted hadn’t assigned O’Neil to give him this briefing, feeling he knew the man better than he knew Ted and trusted him. He decided that was just smart and he’d be silly to be offended by it.
Mr. O’Neil packed them a lunch.
“If you will take an old man’s advice, only eat half your lunch. You will crash after a heavy meal trying to exert yourselves. You’re using different muscles riding than walking. You’re conditioned for walking. You might even need to stop short of home and camp overnight. If you cramp up and get tired get off and walk your bikes for a while.”
“We’ll pace ourselves,” Vic promised.
Cal had exercised his judgment well, and bought them spare parts for all three machines. He also bought them pannier racks and folding storage bins that could clamp to them. What he hadn’t asked for, but was happy to receive, was a single wheel trailer for both big bikes. The price made Vic take a deep breath, but Cal’s note explained they were half the weight of cheaper ones. He also sent three helmets spray painted in muted camo colors, just as he had the bikes. Vic hadn’t thought of helmets. With rocks and gravel washed over the roads, they were a good idea. A lone pine cone could spill you if you weren’t paying attention.
When they started, he put Alice ahead of them to set the pace. She might be younger, but her legs were shorter and her wheels smaller. He didn’t want her struggling to keep up.
When they turned off on a new road to go to the state highway, Vic went to a higher state of awareness, alert to any danger. It was hard to watch the road for debris and scan far ahead for any danger in the distance. He soon found that was tiring all by itself. When they started a long uphill climb, steeper than their usual route, he called a halt when Alice stood on her pedals to get more power. They walked their bikes to the crest. O’Neil was right, it was as good as a rest. His calves were twitchy and lower back hurt a little. The ate a little before heading downhill, and he cautioned not getting carried away going too fast downhill.
The state highway, when they reached it, was straighter with wider shoulders that let you see much further. That wasn’t necessarily good. If something appeared ahead that they wanted to avoid, it was further to reach cover too. At the end of a long downhill, there were four automatic flashers in the median as Vic remembered. They were between guard rails, with solar panels on top of aluminum posts. For a miracle, nobody had messed with them. It was midday and sunny so they were off.
Vic got out his hacksaw. He was going to cut the extruded aluminum post as low as possible. He’d be crouched down between the center guard rails working, so he asked Eileen and Alice to keep a sharp watch both ways. He waxed up the saw with a hunk of beeswax. It felt like vandalism cutting it. He had visions of a California State Highway Patrol car pulling up and asking him what he thought he was doing? When it was almost cut through Vic bent the post over until the sign and panels were against the ground so they wouldn’t fall uncontrolled. Another minute of sawing had it severed.
“I’m not sure if the batteries are still any good,” Vic said. “They’re the heaviest part too. I don’t want to haul them home for nothing.”
“Test them,” Alice said.
“I have a little multimeter but I didn’t think to bring it.”
“They have to have a little sensor somewhere,” Alice said. “Like supermarket doors.”
“A million years ago,” Vic said.
“On top,” Eileen suggested, “They don’t know how they will be pointed when installed so I bet it looks at the sky.”
A little glass dome on top looked likely, but covering it did nothing.
“Dead,” Vic concluded.
“Turn the panel facing the sun,” Eileen said.
The LEDs that formed arrows pointing the way around the curve blinked dimly and very slowly when he covered the sensor again.
“OK the panels still work but the batteries don’t hold a charge,” Vic said.
“Maybe that’s why nobody looted them,” Alice said.
“Check the road again,” Vic said. “Nobody has been watching.”
“We’re good,” Alice said shortly. “I’ll watch so Eileen can help you.”
When Vic had everything loose and was loading it on the bikes and trailers, Alice wanted to know what the boxes with wires were?
“I’m pretty sure those are the controllers for charging the gel batteries. Ted Foster might be able to tell us how to use them for our kind, or take them in trade.”
“This took so long. I don’t think we’re going to make it home today,” Alice said.
“Neither do I, but let’s get off the main highway and find a good camp spot,” Vic said.
* * *
Chen listened to April’s theory that North America was building a starship, but his face said he still had some doubts.
“My understanding was that the French design was stretching the envelope of its capacity. Doing good just to reach Centauri and then turn around and come right back.”
“That’s correct,” April verified. “They ran out of fuel and had to be refueled in lunar orbit to make a lunar landing.”
“So have these North Americans come up with something like what Jeff made, or at least something substantially better than the French version?” Chen asked.
“Jeff thinks it is the same basic drive as the French, but they have made incremental improvements. It’s as if they made a steam car and Jeff made a gasoline powered car. They may never catch up because of the basic laws of physics, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t refine what they have.”
Chen looked amused. “Well, if that is the only difference, the North Americans are ahead, for now, having stolen the fuel process, but they will all be on even ground soon enough when the French steal their drive improvements.”
“You assume it will happen that easily?” April asked.
“Take an hour and read the history of the hydrogen bomb,” Chen suggested. “See how long it was before everybody had it. The Earthies can’t keep a secret. There is so much ethnic and cultural diffusion nobody has a monolithic population. They erase borders and draw new ones and pretend the new lines on a map mean something. Even the Japanese look homogenous but have ancient divisions and suffer from the invasion of Korean and Chinese cults, and the influence of generations of Japanese carrying hidden heresies they picked up at Stanford and MIT. They are now complaining anew about the Australianization of their country.”
“I’ll look at that,” April promised. For sure, she knew already it was going to alter how she presented this information to Joel.
* * *
Vic led his band down the state highway to the next county road that made a T with the main road, and followed a narrow valley off to the northeast. The hill on the north corner was lower, and wooded on its crown above a brief bluff and a loose slope of scree and rocks. He turned them down the county road a couple of hundred meters and then backtracked up the gently sloped side of the hill. They made sure to leave no trail on the shoulder of the road, each taking a different path not straight away from the pavement. The bikes he laid down among the trees partway up the hill, and covered them with boughs cut some distance away from them.
He made his favorite kind of camp, hammocks strung between trees in a triangle, with a mosquito net and a tarp above each that hung down to the outside of the three hammocks. Three thin camo tarps in a ring opposite each hammock hid them from observation at ground level. You practically had to walk into the camp to see it, especially since you could look straight through at ground level because everything was up off the ground. It fooled the eye.
They were about a hundred meters in from the bluff, deep enough to be hidden in the dark woods but a short walk to watch the roads and enjoy the sunset.
“Are you going to build a fire?” Alice asked.
“Are you cold?” Vic answered her question with a question.
“No, I just like a fire. We could make some berry tea.”
“This isn’t camping at the fair,” Vic explained. “A fire makes you much too easy to find. The light, the thermal signature, even the smoke, no matter how small you keep it. It’s hard to make one safely on this sort of forest floor too. I’d rather stay safe. That’s why I worked so hard to make the hammocks hard to find. If you start to get cold put on your jacket early, before you are chilled and have to catch up.”
“I’m not cold,” Alice insisted, and looked disappointed.
“I’m going to go sit and watch the roads,” Vic said. “If you want to join me, I’ll be at the end of the string.” He was tying a yellow cord on his hammock strap. “I’m going to take the rest of my lunch and eat it watching the sunset.”
* * *
It still troubled April that she had fans. Musicians should have fans. Artists like Lindsey should have fans. She thought the whole idea of celebrity was stupid. She once thought those teenagers who identified with her dark clothing and rebellion when she was a teen would grow up. They had, and remained fanboys. One of the gossip sites on Home told her privately that when they ran an article on her with pix, their Earth traffic tripled. It was a good thing it was expensive and difficult to buy shuttle lift tickets from most places on Earth. Home didn’t have restraining orders, having opted for much harsher measures.
She still got texts and calls that were for the most part edited out by her com program. Sometimes she got physical mail that almost nobody used. Home didn’t have a postal system and the few hundred pieces a year were forwarded as charity work by UPS. If their on-station clerk could figure out the recipient, he’d drop you a com message when he got around to it. If he couldn’t, it all went in a bin anyone was welcome to paw through. When the bin got full it was donated to Central for carbon recovery.
Despite those negative feelings, when April called Joel Durand, he always had a big grin. That made her feel good. He managed to be a fan without being creepy or scary.
“Joel, you should look into the possibility you have a leak,” April warned him.
Joel looked alarmed and leaned over first one side and then the other looking down each side and under him. “I don’t see any,” he said with relief.
April couldn’t help laughing.
“I’m sure Mylène would never allow you in public in that condition. I’m speaking of your intelligence agencies or whatever scientific community you have working on star flight.”
“Ah, well those things happen. Have you been doing a little friendly volunteer pentesting?”
“I’d never do that without your explicit request. I don’t think my guys would do that to anybody they know I consider friendly. They do have a history of outright espionage, not just security work, so they probably have the capacity or know where to hire it done. I’ve ordered them to refrain from aggressive behavior towards some other people, but I’ll add France. If they want to crack every rotten secret in China and North America and publish it for the fun of it, I have no problem with that at all.”
“Ah, then you are inferring we are the source rather than direct knowledge,” Joel said. “We of course suspected that when someone started competing with us for the needed materials.”
“Yes, well, the North Americans are assembling a ship in orbit. They have a manned facility at the geosynchronous level. In my opinion, it has to be a starship. So far, they have three modules assembled that they lofted with heavy lifters.
“I can’t imagine they can make a larger, heavier ship function without the fuel process you intimated exists. Indeed, they must have made some improvements in performance to be able to drive this vehicle. Either they came up with it independently or stole it from you. Jeff insists that inventions and processes happen when the underlying art supports them, but I find this too much of a coincidence. I think they stole it.”
Joel showed her his poker face. “Do you have some confirmation of this? Perhaps a shipping manifest or other documents?”
“We’re watching them assemble it in real-time. Here, I’ll send you a short segment and you can cut a still from it,” She chopped a ten-second segment from her feed, and then reconsidered, zooming in to the full 150x limit of the camera and adding it on to the wide-field shot. That showed just one end of the vessel and a space-suited worker in such detail you could make out he had some sort of tool in his hand.
Joel blinked. “I don’t suppose you can zoom in a little closer so we can use facial recognition,” he quipped.
“No this is using third party hardware, not our own,” April said blandly.
“Might one inquire how Chen discovered this project?”
“Oh, well, Chen didn’t discover it. I keep more than one network for gathering information. You have to,” April assured him. “I told him.”
Joel forced himself not to check his veracity software. April would instantly interpret the shift of his eyes, and he was pretty sure what it would show anyway.
“But I did tell Chen to gather more information on it for me. You might do the same to your intelligence people. I find it keeps them a little more respectful if you drop something on them from time to time to which they were totally oblivious.”
“Yes, I imagine it does,” Joel granted. “Since this is an arch-enemy or at least a peer of China, do you have some response to recommend?”
“No, you’ve been acting as if we have an informal alliance for intelligence. I’m just honoring that as long as you do too. I may not reveal other things that I don’t think impact France. I’d rather not make it a formal commitment covering my partners. My fellow, Chen, suggested that the reasonable thing to do would be to seek their improvements as your own. He assures me that Earth intelligence networks leak like a sieve, and explained why in some detail. There are lots of things I’d rather not trust to such leaky vessels.”
“Did you assign him discovering those refinements too?” Joel wondered.
“No, we don’t need them. But Chen and his peer, who I don’t think I have named to France, do assignments for others as they wish if you want to offer him the puzzle. It keeps the cost of their services reasonable to allow that. Here’s his business com code,” April said, boxing it on the screen. “I’ll warn you, they are very dear if you should decide to try them.”
“How do you resolve any conflicts of interest?” Joel asked amazed. “I can’t imagine having agents who aren’t exclusive to our service.”
“I have to trust him for so much. That seems like a minor matter to trust him to not accept work that creates conflicts. Plus, he knows I’d shoot him dead if he betrayed us.”
“I doubt I could convince my man of that,” Joel admitted. “May I reveal this video to my people? It won’t compromise anyone?”
“Oh sure. They’re doing it out in the open, in front of God and everybody,” April said with an expansive gesture. “There’s no way to hide it in geosynchronous orbit. If they had to build a hanger or tent to build it inside, it would probably add half again the expense, and how do you hide what the big modules you are taking inside are? It’s like making a cake while somebody watches and then trying to say your recipe is a secret.”
“Thank you. If my people find anything related, we’ll share it,” Joel promised.
“Great, talk to you soon then,” April said and disconnected.
Joel reviewed the conversation carefully. Running it through veracity software didn’t tell him a thing. He was depressed to see his side of the conversation had a wider range of probable truthfulness than April’s. For the first time, he wondered if the Spacers had software that defeated the truth extracting programs. It would be difficult to alter one’s facial tensions, pupil dilation, and the pace and tenor of the voice in real-time to seem more truthful. He suspected she just told the truth. It seemed almost a cheat. If he carefully composed his statements ahead of time, perhaps he could improve his test range. He’d try it with his intelligence service.
Talking with the lag to Home was mentally tiring and he needed to recover from that. He got up and walked around, used his private bath, and ordered a pot of tea brought in before he called his top intelligence officer.
“Bernard,” he greeted his man on the screen, “I have something I’d like you to look into.”
“Your wish is my command,” Bernie said.
“I think you just crashed my veracity program,” Joel joked.
“You’ve always been skeptical of them anyway,” he pointed out.
“True,” Joel agreed, which was probably the highest score he’d get on one word. “The North Americans are building a vessel in orbit, which I suspect is a starship. I’d like you to find out if they have any significant improvements and if they acquired our fueling process.”
“Where in orbit?” Bernard asked frowning.
“In a geosynchronous orbit. I didn’t think to ask where, but I’d imagine parked somewhere over North America. How many manned facilities can they have that far out?” Joel asked.
“Two,” Bernie answered. That was a measure of how badly he was rattled. He never volunteered something like that unless asked specifically.
“There you go. Which one should be obvious,” Joel predicted.
Bernard keyed in something furiously and scowled at Joel.
“That didn’t come up from below me, bypassing me. There’s nothing in the system with the proper keywords,” he accused.
“No, it’s from another source. One should never risk a single point of failure for intelligence. I appreciate your work but have other sources too.”
There, that should be nearly as clean a statement as any April made to him.
“Would you accept something of critical importance from a single source?” he asked Bernard.
“I won’t accept a single source without verification even if I’m the primary source.”
“Just so,” Joel said satisfied.
“Do you have any specific data you feel free to share?” Bernie asked skeptically.
“Here, I’ll give you a video snip. This is about twenty minutes old,” Joel said.
When the scene zoomed in, Bernard reacted so hard that the veracity software reported agitation even in the absence of speech.
“So, I take it you knew they were North American by matching retinal patterns?” He asked, looking at the zoomed-in image.
“It is a good image, isn’t it?” Joel asked, thoroughly enjoying this. “Be a good fellow, and let me know how this is going in a few days,” Joel requested. He knew Bernie would bust his derriere to have something new well before that.
* * *
Vic was slowly eating his cornbread. Taking tiny bites and chewing it thoroughly. A friend taught him that satisfied hunger better when you didn’t have much, a trick the man knew from jail. He’d buy a candy bar and eat it that way instead of jail slop. The wind was near still, as it often is near sunset. Vic heard a distant sound that was mechanical. It alerted him all the more for how seldom they heard anything powered now.
He was sitting on a folded-up space blanket, being careful of ticks, but he jumped up and unfolded that, wrapping himself in it with it over his head as a hood. He wasn’t sure if the hum he heard was a truck or a plane.
Far down the state highway, the way they’d come, where it crossed a saddle and started a long downhill, the dark dot of a vehicle appeared. Vic didn’t wait to see what it was. He hurried back and ordered Eileen and Alice into his hammock together. Telling them a vehicle was coming.
“Why yours instead of my own?” Alice asked.
“My rain fly has foil on the inside. I didn’t buy them all that way because it was expensive. Stay there until I come to give you an all-clear.”
Vic grabbed his binoculars and went back to the overlook, but not as near the edge as before. He tugged the blanket to make a deeper hood and hunkered down.
The vehicle resolved to a scout car. The sort that looked like an off-road racer. There was another behind it keeping a couple of hundred meters separation. Vic wasn’t as worried about them seeing him from the scout car as the fact they often ran drones ahead as they went down the road. He didn’t see or hear one, but they could be small and quiet. In fact, the scout cars themselves were pretty quiet. They were likely fuel cell powered instead of IC engines. He’d heard tire noise rather than exhaust.
The scout cars pulled off the road as far as possible on the county road corners of the T. The other side dropped off too sharply. Vic was dismayed to see the men rig a camo net over each. That suggested they would be there for some time. They might even be an advance element of a bigger force. He couldn’t see any insignia or flag on the vehicles and he didn’t know the uniforms of different forces to be able to identify them. The distance was far too great to see individual patches and insignia. They were simply ill-defined spots of color.
Vic could see under the edge of the camo nets. They were raised on poles to the roadside letting the soldiers have a good view. They only afforded cover from the air. Soon, it became obvious they were taking a supper break. They only set one perimeter guard out a couple of hundred meters along the road they hadn’t transversed yet. They didn’t appear to have any concerns about the road behind them or the secondary county road. Enough time had elapsed Vic felt sure there was no drone aloft or they would have recovered it and sent another up.
One of the soldiers walked to the middle of the intersection and placed a hockey puck-sized object on the pavement. He popped a canister of purple smoke and held it until he was sure which way it would blow and then threw it downwind. It all seemed strange to Vic until several of them standing outside the nets looked up. It was hard for Vic to see from under the trees, but there was something off-white coming down. It wasn’t until it was only a couple seconds from hitting the pavement that he saw a dark bundle under a parachute fall about ten meters upwind of the intersection. That was a pretty accurate drop. It must have been steerable and the object an infrared beacon. Vic never saw or heard the plane or drone that dropped it.
The load turned out to be fuel bladders, two for each scout car. Four soldiers on each dragged them in turn to the cars, putting one in the short box at the rear and attaching a pump to transfer the other into the vehicle. They lifted the bladder at the last, tilting it to make sure the last bit got to the pump. Then they rolled them up and discarded them in the heavier brush away from the road.
Vic had formed the opinion they were going to overnight there but he was wrong. It was a few minutes past sundown and would be dark in an hour. Instead, there was a flurry of activity and the nets were stowed, the cars reoccupied and they were gone in ten minutes while dusk was still darkening. Vic retreated to his camp and released Eileen and Alice. Alice hurried off to ease nature and he related everything to Eileen then had to repeat it when Alice came back. They never heard a larger force follow the scouts. It wasn’t any sort of invasion.
In the morning when they went back down to the county road, Vic returned to the intersection and inspected one of the fuel bladders, trying to determine whose forces they belonged to. It had a number and description in English, but thinking on it he realized that even if they were Mexicans or Texans, the bladder would probably be from old North American stock. It was tempting to salvage it but he already had a load to pull. What would he put in it if he owned it? He compromised by moving them down the road and off into the woods where they would be much harder to find. If he wanted to recover them later or send somebody to do so he could find them again. His circle of satellite phone owners would be interested that someone was scouting the Northern part of the state, but he couldn’t tell them who.
* * *
“That last, sixth segment the North Americans boosted seems to be the part with the actual drive,” Chen said. “I think they have the majority of it lifted and it’s just fitting and finishing now. They’ve had enough visits from shuttles to fuel it and several inflatable modules that could house crew. We never counted people in and out to tell if they left anybody behind. Do you want us to backtrack and do that?”
“No, we know it’s going to be manned,” April said. “I’d be shocked if it is less than two or more than three or four. This isn’t a transport, it’s an explorer.”
“This is a huge expenditure of resources for North America,” Chen said. “Their economy has never recovered entirely and they lost so much to Texas. They have rolled a couple of years of projected lift activity into a month.”
“Maybe they are pinning their hopes on this being a big boost to that flat economy,” April speculated. “If they find a living world or a source of metals richer than our solar system, they will be much better off than the other Earth nations.”
“I’d think they would mine here first,” Chen said. “Look at the Rock, they still haven’t used it up yet and gone for another like they have snowballs.
“And yet, we are out there looking for our real estate instead of consolidating and looking for other asteroids to mine here,” April pointed out.
Chen thought about it a little. “The whole impetus for Home’s rebellion was the expected conflict over ownership of the Rock. Maybe they aren’t so dumb,” he finally allowed. “If they find something distant there is less of a chance others will contest its possession.”
“It depends again on scarcity,” April said. “Later, when there are several Earth nations with star flight. If there’s enough to be found, then they will each seek their own. If good star systems are rare, there is danger there will be conflict over them too.”
“Then, as much as possible, if you find something valuable it would be better to not lead anyone to it, and if that fails, be prepared to deny entry and defend it,” Chen said. “Have you found anything worth claiming beyond the embarrassing episode with Bright in the Centauri system?”
“We have not found a living world, which is our ultimate desire, nor anything like a system with asteroids of gold and silver,” April said. Which didn’t precisely answer the question.
“Have the French sought your help to discover if the North Americans breached their security and counter that?” April asked.
“Should I be discussing what other clients are paying me to find?” Chen asked.
“Well, I recommended your team to them, so it isn’t like I was entirely out of the loop.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware. Then we owe you a finder’s fee,” Chen promised.

Chapter 16
“Annette, I’m going to close the sale of Camelot and get paid off, three days from now in Hawaii,” Jeff said. “I’ll message you again as soon as it is done and you will have no further responsibility for anything in Camelot. My recommendation is that you have a hopper waiting with a pilot and simply leave without any notice or farewells.”
“You better believe it. I’ve grown to expect every sort of irrational reaction to anything I do. I have no idea how they will view my leaving. Despite being unhappy with everything I do, they still wouldn’t have any trouble complaining that I am abandoning them. I’ll text my manager Feng when I get to the hopper so they aren’t searching for a body. It will be too late then for them to do anything vindictive.”
Jeff nodded. “I’m going to text a quitclaim deed to all the residents using a private residence. I don’t expect any more gratitude than you do, but it’s the right thing to do. I’ll also be giving you a bonus, equal to the real estate agent’s fee, above your pay for administering and improving Camelot. My payment is split between gold and Australian dollars. But since the dollars are a floating value, and difficult for an individual to dispose of, I’m paying you and the agent in gold. Would you be happy with payment to an account at Irwin’s Private Bank?”
Annette laughed. “I don’t even have a bank account and don’t want the bother of one. I had my salary sent to my mom’s household accounts. She tracks it and assigns me a debit number to use when I wanted something personal. I bet I haven’t used a quarter of it for clothing and special snacks. Just send it by courier to my family’s place. I’ll be moving back into my room until I take another job. I’ll keep my bonus separate as a keepsake of this adventure and first job. Maybe I’ll have some jewelry made.”
“Whatever you wish,” Jeff agreed. It was that much less for them to coin. He smiled and wondered how the public would receive a Bank of Mom?
* * *
Vic’s little company arrived home late and hungry. The route back was not only longer, but had more ups and downs than the old route. The four extra homemade seed and berry bars they took for each of them didn’t come near covering their caloric expenditures cycling. On the plus side, they’d pushed through over soreness and stiffness to the point they were getting conditioned to biking.
Their house-sitters joked they were going to move the rest of their things in and claim the place if they had delayed a couple more days. Vic didn’t think that was very funny. It made him aware he hadn’t made any provision who would inherit the property if they hadn’t returned. He had copies of the plat and deed. The courthouse having been ransacked and burnt, a lot of people would be hard pressed to prove ownership, and many were outright squatters anyway. It was going to be a mess if anyone claimed authority over the area again.
Alice, who wasn’t sure she wanted to join them in panning at first, now suggested she go a day early and start concentrating paydirt before they joined her on Sunday. She wasn’t willing to pay the percentage Vic wanted to sinter and forge her dust into rings. He ended up showing her how to stamp them into the mold, heat them in his little forge orange hot and restrike them until they could be burnished to look solid. That was fine. He hadn’t wanted to do extra anyway.
He did make rings from a portion of what he and Eileen found. Having it in a legal form made sense. But in the back of his mind, he kept thinking that he wanted some way to do a proper melt. Once he showed Alice how to let the swing and weight of the hammer do the work, instead of trying to muscle it in short strokes, she did just fine.
* * *
“There isn’t a big enough flat spot to land near my house,” April told Jeff. “You might set it down over the traffic island at the end of our dead-end street, but you’d ruin the landscaping and throw hot dirt over three or four of the houses. The same in Diana’s yard. You’d have four or five meters each way to avoid a stone wall or patio and blow over her lanai if not blow her windows out, and leave a big fused pit in her lawn. If you missed hitting your mark dead-on setting the Chariot down, you’d topple it, and wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Have you been to their airport?” Jeff wondered.
“No, but they’re pretty much all the same. It’s North American built, so it has fencing and pretty decent security. Nobody leaves any facility wide open since terrorism became common. Nick said they’ll park us on the concrete apron across the runways from the terminal building. We’ll have lots of open room around us and they will have armed security around it overnight. It won’t be a target until it has the gold sitting in it the next morning. By then you will be sitting in the command chair. If it’s that dangerous we should be meeting them at sea.”
“I gave them a choice and they picked Hawaii. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“If you renege, I’ll support you, but it looks bad,” April said.
“No, we’ll go. But I want to be sitting in it with the comp running and your board hot while they are loading,” Jeff insisted.
“That’s fine with me. Been there, done that with the Martians, and I was more worried.”
* * *
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Eileen asked.
“I have some ideas,” Vic said. “I need to talk to Ted Foster. He knows electrical stuff a lot better than me. I want to ask him about how to hook up and use the solar panels we liberated.”
“We flat out stole them and no apologies for it. Salvage is accepted if it’s not malicious or plain old vandalism. I consider it property abandoned by the state that had no chance of ever being reclaimed. We need it and would work for it and buy it if we could. I thought you’d use them to charge batteries,” Eileen said.
“OK, stole them talking to you. I’m not going to admit anything that could come back and bite me to others. Even one of those panels is way more than you need for say, radios. I’d like to know if I can hook all of them together and use them to weld. I have an old cheap Lincoln welder in the barn, and all the stuff to go with it. I’d like to be able to fabricate some stuff, but most of all, melt gold, without revealing to Ted that’s what I want to do.”
“Send him a text and ask him to talk about it at the fall fair. You’re going to take those aluminum poles to him anyway, aren’t you? If he doesn’t pay you anything else for them, he can at least advise you. Write out what you want to know and think on it until then. Outline briefly about welding and see if he volunteers enough to let you figure the rest of it out on your own,” Eileen suggested. “Or you might come to trust him.”
“I’ll do that,” Vic agreed. “I could look up stuff up online, but it would cost a fortune on the satellite phone. I sure miss being able to browse for hours and not pay extra. I know I talked to Ted at the fair, but I don’t know him. I asked about lib… stealing the panels and he had some suggestions, but I didn’t tell him everything I wanted to do with them. He expressed interest in trading for them, if the posts were extruded aluminum, but didn’t tell me why he wants them. I’m reluctant to tell him why I need stuff when he doesn’t trust me fully.”
“It seems to me you need to talk a lot more,” Eileen said. “I’d say you two both trust a lot of the same people. If you both trust and work with Mast and O’Neil and Ritner you should be able to work together. It just sounds to me like you both want the other to make the first move.”
“Well yeah, I’m pretty cautious about revealing we have gold. It could make us a target.”
“He’s pretty cautious about revealing who has sat phones,” Eileen pointed out. “You are two of a kind.”
* * *
“Prime Minister Durand, I’m sorry to bother you, but we have an irregular situation at the security station. There is a gentleman who insists you will want to see him but refuses to give his name. He said to tell you Chen sent him, and that is sufficient identification. Is this some sham? Should we arrest him?”
“No! Please, extend every courtesy to him and I will see him in the blue conference room as soon as they can prepare it. Have them sweep it and activate the jammer fields. Explain to him that is the delay, and offer him refreshments until I can join him.”
The officer started to turn away but Joel thought to ask. “You weren’t able to ID him?”
“The security station has priority access and ran a national and European Union search as well as Interpol and what partial searches we can do in other systems. We have no data on him. That should be impossible inside our borders. Are you sure he is no danger to you?”
“Quite sure,” Joel said, even though he wasn’t. The officer could probably read that easily with his portable software. The basic kind foot patrolmen used on a street corner suspect. He looked at Joel, unhappy, but didn’t contradict him and went out.
The man was seated at the corner of the conference table turned toward the other seat he’d pulled out and turned toward him a little. It was an obvious invitation to sit. It felt odd like Joel was the supplicant in his own secure room. The man was Asian but dressed very nicely in a western manner, and thanked Joel for his hospitality in flawless French. The high-end spex was unusual for Earth. He had a cup of coffee he pushed away. He didn’t rise but Joel didn’t feel disrespected. He extended a memory stick to Joel.
“I was told not to deliver this over com. I suggest you only read it on an unconnected computer in a shielded facility. The files on this detail who sold your fuel process to the North Americans. Who paid him, and the routing of the funds through seven banks to an end account in Columbia. The small changes the North Americans made to the drive system to improve the probability of it working at lower velocities are included as requested. We have no idea of course if it resides on any air gapped machine, but the server on which it resides in Maryland is identified and an administrative password for the network included if you wish to verify it, delete it, or alter it. You can transfer fifteen hundred grams in payment to the account listed in the end file at the Private Bank of Home. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Is this same information being conveyed to Miss Lewis on Home?” Joel asked.
“Certainly not. We are contracted with you. If April Lewis desires that information she will have to request it be obtained as an individual outside our arrangement with her partnership or as an officer of one of their associated businesses.”
That was normal policy but the man had no idea the depth of Chen’s personal relationship with April and what he might confide.
“Details of specific hardware and systems don’t fall within the sort of general report we make daily. Since we were told she recommended us and you have confirmed it, we will forward a finder’s fee to her.”
“You will pay her?” Joel asked.
“That’s just good business,” the fellow insisted.
Joel took a deep breath and tried to make sense of it. April could get the report, but she’d have to ask for it. And hadn’t or the man should know of it. Would she have to pay extra, or was that covered by some sort of retainer? He didn’t want to ask.
“Can you tell me how this information was obtained,” Joel asked hefting the card.
“I’d have to ask permission and that will undoubtedly entail a fee. Methods are closely held and valuable.”
“Never mind then. I’d have to ask for a secure…”
The lights in the room flickered and came back. The fellow looked briefly distracted and then snapped back too.
“Your pardon, I asked already but it’s a three-second lag. It took a lot of power to get past some local interference. I hope I didn’t damage anything. My supervisor says the method is reproducible with your technology, so a general description without actual plans has significant value. If you wish to know how the information on the guilty party was obtained that will be an additional two kilograms of gold. The methods to search and crack North American secure networks aren’t for sale at any price.”
Joel thought about it. He should have accepted that bar back from Irwin as a secret resource. This sort of secret payment of huge sums could create problems later. It was the sort of thing political opponents dredged up and questioned. No way was he paying for this himself. On the other hand, his people might be delighted to have this ability. They undoubtedly spent more in a year on things less effective than this seemed to be.
“Very well, tell me.”
“We identified your primary drive research facility and who works there by transport and phone records. Examining the education and work history of everyone who could be confirmed to work there took about six hours. Your security was too good to cost-effectively penetrate there. We then went about bugging their homes and places they frequent with micro drones. Of the one hundred and sixty-four targets, three were impossible to bug, having aggressive drone safeguards and other high-end security. They are probably intelligence agents of yours or other countries. Of the remainder, six had such abnormal psychological profiles and atypical responses to keywords and visual stimuli as to be unreadable. They may be socially functional but we consider them to have insane thought processes we can’t analyze. The rest we watched and noted their reactions to video programs, conversations they conducted, and conversations they overheard. The software is not much different from veracity or interrogation software. Pupil dilation, skin resistance, and other physical attributes can be sensed remotely. Even brain activity, if not detailed mapping, yet. It’s simply a bit slower to tally involuntary reactions to random words instead of reading off a list of preselected words. Within twenty-four hours we had three candidates. Examining their associates, banking records, online interests or searches, and their travel histories quickly isolated the individual thief. We were fortunate our man was not one of the well protected or insane workers. That would have delayed us significantly.”
“All that is within our technical ability?” Joel asked.
“Yes. You may need some experience to catch up in integrating them, but you possess all the necessary elements.”
“That’s kind of scary. I’ll forward both payments together,” Joel promised. Now, he had doubts after the fact if he wanted his own security people wielding such an invasive capacity.
“Thank you for your business,” the nameless man said and left. Joel sat and thought about it a bit. For a wonder, his security didn’t rush back in and ask if they should follow the man. Perhaps they now saw him as a private asset of the Prime Minister. It might disturb them to know he could have other assets, but that was fine with him. It might keep them on their toes. As far as following him, Joel suspected if they tried without permission it wouldn’t be easy. Chen’s minions seemed extra spooky if not downright creepy.
* * *
Vic wasn’t certain how secure the text function was on his satellite phone. He wouldn’t mention details to Ted but just speak in generalities.
To: Ted Foster
Subject: Have extrusions
We obtained the extrusions you want. You can owe us a favor or possibly help with some electronics projects I’m doing. I’d like to take time to talk to you much more about it when we attend Mr. Mast’s Fall Fair/Festival. I noted some outsider activity I don’t feel free to detail in text. I’d also like to know how secure you consider this mode of communication.
Victor Foy
What Vic didn’t expect was a reply in ten minutes.
To: Victor Foy
Subject: Meeting and trade
I am reluctant to travel overnight. I’m even considering taking on a partner to keep the radio net open when I travel to Mast’s Fair or other events. If you could consider visiting me earlier to deliver the extrusions, I will show you my projects and advise you on yours. I’m sure we’d both rather move ahead with our projects sooner than the fall.
On security, I think our encryption is sufficient to protect us from other phone users, but I have always assumed there are back doors in the system for bigger players.
Attached: County map with location and suggested routes.
Theodore Foster
Vic showed it to Eileen.
“Looks like he’ll meet you halfway,” was her opinion.
“No, he wants us to travel all the way to his place,” Vic said.
She looked at him irritated, but he was grinning.
* * *
“Nick says they have no ties to Earth Traffic Control,” Diana reported to April. “The North Americans have been opposing their inclusion. They are so far from anyone else they see no need of it,” Diana said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you back at your house, Kiddo. Nick also asked if you want him to move into town while you are here? He keeps a place in town if you want your privacy.”
“We’re only going to be there one night and we’re not going to throw a party or anything.”
“You better not. I’m going to cook supper for you on the grill. The kind of real barbeque you don’t get on Home, that belches smoke and fumes, but tastes wonderful.”
“I’m up for that,” April agreed. Her mouth was watering right now thinking about it.
“You travel light. Nick and I will pick you up at the port,” Diana insisted.
“I could rent a car,” April offered.
“You have a driver’s license?” Diana asked.
“Oh, OK. I have a learner’s permit that’s probably expired. You’re right, I remember what a hassle it was last time. I ended up buying a car because it was easier.”
* * *
The last person Heather ever expected to see on com again was Nathan DeWalt. He appeared almost as stressed as the last time he called her. On the plus side, he was dressed much better and had a nice natural tan, not the orange chemical sort, and no raccoon eyes from lying under lamps with eye protectors on.
“Good evening Nathan. I’m glad to see you looking prosperous and healthy.”
“I’d probably be dead if I hadn’t followed your advice,” he acknowledged.
“Even after you agreed, I wasn’t sure you’d follow through on it fast enough,” Heather said.
“I got out of Europe quickly enough. The trouble is they’re still looking for me.”
“I wasn’t aware they’d have the assets to do that,” Heather said. “Are you sure it’s the Martians and not some Union state or agency acting for themselves?”
“Not entirely, but I don’t have the sort of intelligence you folks do and I can’t exactly approach any of the people I’ve suspected of following me. My resort cabin in Tahiti blew up last week when I was on the back deck because I couldn’t sleep and it knocked me unconscious into the landscaping. When I woke up all sore and with some debris embedded in my back the thing was burning and I saw a couple of guys walking around examining the ground to make sure there were no tracks away from it. I arrived in the bushes ballistically so I was good. I think they are counting me for dead, but for how long?”
“Yes, it doesn’t sound like it would be productive to discuss it with them,” Heather agreed.
Nathan took a deep breath.
“I have a favor to ask.” He stopped right there, waiting to see how she’d react.
“We will entertain your petition,” Heather said. Her whole manner and tone of voice changed when she went into Sovereign Mode and spoke in Plural Majestatis.
Nathan definitely saw the change. His mouth dropped open a little and his eyes widened.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be safe on Earth. I have the funds and ability to get to Home where I’d be much safer. I’m just painfully aware that you dislike Martians, with just cause. I may still be forever tagged a Martian in your thinking even if I can never go back. I’m aware of how closely Central and Home are bound to each other. If I go to Home, and do not do anything detrimental to Central or your people, may I live there quietly? Will you, if not exactly approve of me, let me be and not have me expelled?”
“We did see you as a despicable little weasel when you were spoks for the previous Mars regime. You did do Us a good turn warning Us it might not be safe to land on Mars again. We shall count that to your account in the positive. It is not yet clear to Us that you have reformed from associating with the previous murderous leaders. We are guilty of doing business with them and perhaps adding to their legitimacy Ourselves. We doubt this new bunch are any better, but at least you did not grovel and attempt to ingratiate yourself with them. We will not interfere with your life on Home. This is not an official and supported asylum, but if you integrate and flourish on Home, We will allow that in a couple of years you may visit or do business at Central. Do you accept My judgment?”
“I am most grateful for your judgment and accept it fully.”
“Then you damn well better get off the Mud Ball,” Heather said in her normal voice. “They may not miss blowing up your silly butt the next time.”
* * *
“Earth Control, This is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot out of Central, Jeffery Singh commanding. We are transversing your control volume for a partial orbit and dropping below your control volume for a Hawaiian Islands landing. Transmitting our path data now and you may advise us if we interfere with other traffic. We will contact Honolulu direct on approach.”
“Dionysus’ Chariot, you must get clearance from North America for any Hawaiian Island landing. Your orbital elements are clear. Contact Kansas City for final hand off to descend and contact Honolulu,” Earth Control instructed.
“Kansas City? My goodness, what happened to Houston Control? Oh, that’s right, the same as Honolulu. It may be Winnipeg running it next visit. Not going to happen, Earth Control. We’re done talking to people who shoot at us. That’s why we asked for your advice and not clearance. Also why we are coming in from the west, to be much harder to shoot at from North America. Thank you for your concern. Singh out.”
“I was having second thoughts,” April said, “but I’d hate to have missed that.”
“That was at least partially your bad influence,” Jeff said.
“Oh good. Thank you.”
They finished their partial orbit in silence. That was fine with Jeff.
“Honolulu Control, this is Dionysus’ Chariot, out of Central, Jeff Singh, 899-17-1179, commanding, April Lewis second seat. We are on approach three thousand kilometers west of you, descending through fifty-eight thousand meters. We are requesting vertical clearance to your south apron per prearrangement with your Minister of Business.”
“Aloha, Dionysus’ Chariot. You are cleared for vertical descent under ten kilometers to 21.31474 north minus 157.94001 west. Minimizing your transonic approach is appreciated. Your visual is a standard SpaceX circle with the number 4. Traffic from the civil aviation side will be held briefly. Switch to 120.90 on approach and squawk 3201. There is a sixteen kilometer per hour breeze from the east-north-east in paradise, with scattered cumulus at sixteen hundred meters and visibility to twenty kilometers with a slight haze. Do you want any services alerted?”
“Honolulu Control, we will be met by a civilian vehicle and expect delivery of water by tank truck. We will damage your apron due to our exhaust, not loading. Please advise management to bill us for repair with the landing fees and parking fees.”
“Security is advised you will have vehicles and officials to clear as well as the tanker. I’ll e-mail an advisory to billing on the pavement situation.”
“Thank you, switching to approach,” Jeff said.
“They seemed friendly enough,” April said.
“I know. I could get used to that.”
* * *
Jeff looked at April with obvious dismay. She returned his gaze with exaggerated cheerfulness. Diana’s little battery powered car wasn’t what she’d been expecting either. Nick was a government official and Diana was rich. They expected something much bigger and more comfortable. Spacers were used to tight spaces, but Diana had her purchases for dinner filling the space behind the rear seat. It was so tight they had to hold their overnight bags in their laps.
The roads were visibly a victim of reduced trade since the revolution. The little car was near capacity with four people and a couple of bags of groceries. Whenever they hit a pothole or crack in the pavement the suspension bottomed out and jolted them repeatedly through the barely padded rear seat.
On the plus side, Nick had arranged with his government contacts for a light armored vehicle with four soldiers to be posted beside the Dionysus’ Chariot.
The climb to the top of the ridge where Diana and April’s homes perched on the end next to each other was painfully slow. The last couple hundred meters were so slow April wondered if they’d have to get out and push. Diana, seeing their discomfort, reassured them.
“Don’t pay any attention to that warning light in the dash. They always set it to make you charge up way early. There’s another day of charge left in it for on the flat. I won’t even give it a full charge at the house. I’ll just set the timer for forty minutes. It’ll charge itself back up the rest of the way from regenerative braking going back downhill.”
Diana went straight in the garage at her own home, but April insisted on going to her house first. She wanted to drop off her bag and show the place to Jeff. They went through the house, Jeff meeting Diana’s Newfoundland Ele’ele for the first time. He made points by being unafraid of him and talking to him like a toddler. They went out the back to jump the wall, Ele’ele trotting beside his newfound friend. Nick accompanied her and Diana said she had to prep dinner anyway, just not to delay too long or she’d feed it to the pigs. Jeff didn’t understand that was a colloquialism and not literal, providing some more amusement. Ele’ele seemed disappointed when they excluded him at the door. It wasn’t easy, he tried to squeeze through with them.
Nick seemed worried and April didn’t understand why. It was soon clear he was worried that the few decorative touches he’d added might offend her. She thought he had pretty good taste and told him so. Spacer-bare was a habit to keep from having loose objects that could fly around. The habit persisted when there was no longer a need. It wasn’t like he’d knocked down walls and made permanent changes. A table and vase could be put away somewhere if she didn’t want to look at them.
“Do you want to sleep up or down tonight?” Nick asked.
“You have bunk beds?” Jeff asked with a straight face, provoking more laughter.
“Come on, we’ll show you,” April invited. “It wasn’t finished when I left last time, so I want to see it myself.”
They took an elevator down, got off at an intermediate level, and walked across a short hall with a right-angle bend in it and took a second elevator deeper. There was a spacious bedroom with an abbreviated bath that had only a shower not a tub, a tiny kitchenette that would have been a luxury on Home, and a fully equipped com desk.
“The jog in the elevators and crook in the transfer tunnel are designed to attenuate any blast from above. The transfer level will collapse easily on purpose,” April said.
“This is nicer than my two-bedroom apartment back home, but how do you get back out if you need to?” Jeff asked. “Do you have to wait to be dug out?”
“There’s pipe behind the wall mirror in the bedroom if you get sealed in. It goes downhill and ends in a chamber just below the surface in the nature preserve. That’s trespassing and illegal, but tough. You have to fold down a panel to expose dirt and there are some short spades. You have to dig a hole to get out. Is there equipment stocked there, like was planned?” April asked Nick.
“Yes, there is some food and water so you can delay exiting a couple of days if you need to. There are camo jumpsuits and rain gear, as well as machetes to deal with exiting the forest.”
“And to answer your question, we’ll sleep down here. I’m still a little nervous being on Earth again. It was such a bad experience last time.”
“It isn’t North America now,” Nick reminded her.
April refrained from telling him it was still Earth out of politeness.
Back at Diana’s, April waved away a fourth helping of pork loin and grilled pineapple. She had to leave room for dessert after all. Nick was dismayed at her capacity.
Nick told them about the adventures of being a third-tier public official, the limitations of what he could do, and why Business wasn’t a second-tier office as Jeff expected it should be.
Diana went off and returned with a Hawaiian coin for Jeff. She waved off his offer of a solar in trade. Jeff was quick to turn it over to see what was on the obverse. It was hibiscus lei with two of the flowers artistically depicted in the middle.
Diana finally brought out dessert about the time April was giving up hope and thinking maybe she should have taken another plate of pork. It was chocolate pie or likiko’i bars. After her quarter of a pie washed down with local Kona, April regretted not taking a smaller piece. She only had room for two of the bars.
After everybody seemed full and talked out, Jeff asked April and Nick. “Are you ready to call it a night, and go back to April’s house? We have to be at the field at 0900 so they can load us,”
“When I’m in residence, I mostly stay in the studio on the uphill side, not down in the main house,” Nick informed him. “But if you need me, I’m staying here tonight.”
“Ah, OK. I doubt we will need anything,” Jeff said, cluing up.
“Figure 0700 for breakfast,” Diana said. “I wouldn’t expect April to make the long drive down empty first thing in the morning.”
“I packed it in pretty good too,” Jeff objected.
“I was fairly sure you liked it OK, but you only get an honorable mention,” Diana said.

Chapter 17
April restrained herself in the morning. You don’t want to be too full flying, or in her case sitting the weapons board and prepared to back up Jeff.
Riding down the hill, Diana pointed out the bar showing their charge state in the instruments. “See it’s at 100% now? It doesn’t usually hit that until near the bottom. Having four people in the car makes it charge faster.”
Jeff was impressed by how pleasantly the gate guards treated Nick while still being thorough in checking his identity. There was a stout drop bar at the gate and a double fence on each side. Diana went off on a tangent explaining how that was the origins of the expression turnpike, but it filled the void while the guards checked them out. Jeff would have preferred some serious retractable bollards, but it was a big perimeter to protect and you could just breach it elsewhere if you made this point too strong. There was at least a big concrete wedge protecting the guardhouse, and the guards had long guns. The width of the magazines said they were of a serious caliber too.
There was a box of an armored car backed up to the ship already, not the low-slung Army of Hawaii vehicle, but a bronze Brinks truck with two guards in much snappier uniforms chatting with the troops. Diana pulled in between the bigger vehicles, nose to the ship. There was another Brinks truck parked a little away. For some reason, they had the load split into two trucks. Jeff didn’t realize how limited their load capacity was.
“Can we come up and see your ship?” Nick asked. “I’ve never seen the control room of one except in a video.”
“Neither have I, even though I’ve been up a couple of times,” Diana told Nick.
“Take them up, April,” Jeff said. “I have to show the Brinks guys how to run the crane for sure, and that they understand how the cases have to be distributed and strapped down, It’ll take them a while to load. I’ll join you in a few minutes. But I want to strap in the command chair, boards hot, listening to the field, all set to lift as soon as we are loaded.”
April took Jeff’s bag to stow. “Follow me up. We used to have a hanging ladder but the last refit we put retractable rungs with a better tread surface and they don’t move around.”
“There’s no rails or safety lines?” Nick asked. He looked uncertain.
“Are you afraid of heights?” April asked. “I can get a safety line from a locker and toss it down to you if you know how to rig it. It’s a pain needing to unclip and reattach it over and over. In lower gravity, we just climb a line hand over hand and don’t bother with steps.”
“I’ll be fine,” Nick promised. His face said otherwise, but April saw it would be humiliating to make a fuss about it now.
“There are sometimes two seats latched into this space when we are carrying passengers,” April said, showing them the recesses on the deck.
“How the heck do you get up there?” Nick asked, looking at the acceleration couches projecting from a now vertical surface “Do a chin-up on the head-rest and pull yourselves over the edge?”
April laughed. “No silly, watch.” She pulled a handle at the bottom of a line of plates running up the now vertical deck. Two rails pivoted out at the bottom and the flat plates rotated into place becoming stair treads, locking in place with a clunk.
April was explaining the difference between each station and how either could handle all the functions if you needed to pilot it solo. Jeff came in and they saw how easily he climbed the stairs, grabbed a convenient take-hold they hadn’t even noticed, and swung into his seat.
“Could I sit in the other seat and you get a picture of me looking back over my shoulder?”
“Sure, just don’t touch anything on the board,” April told Nick.
Then of course Diana had to do the same thing.
“I’m bringing up both boards live now,” Jeff said after Diana climbed down. “I already set the basic routines to climb out and jump before we ever left. Be aware you don’t want to mention priority commands such as L-I-F-T or J-U-M-P, because as a matter of safety they will actuate from any voice. April’s board is a bit worse actually. You never want to say F-I-R-E as the computer may connect that to something you said as a command. That could have unfortunate results such as shooting missiles or calling down orbital weapons. That starts as of now.”
“Now I’m scared to say anything,” Nick admitted.
“I often feel the same dealing with Artificial Stupids,” April admitted.
“Commander Singh,” the Brinks guard called on the hold intercom. “We have finished loading your cargo and it is secure. Do you want to come down and inspect it?”
“Nah, just double check you didn’t leave anything in the armored car when you go down,” Jeff joked. “I will go down and check all the strapping and placement in a bit. Do you have a physical manifest to sign?”
“Your verbal release is sufficient,” the man said.
“You have that then. It’s not like I can weigh it and run assays right now anyway. If anything is off spec, I’ll take it up with the buyers latter. Thanks for your service,” Jeff said.
“My pleasure. Good day to you,” he signed off.
“Ship, activate ground ops frequency. Lieutenant, you can take off with your crew if you want now that we are all loaded,” Jeff said. “Thanks for watching my ship.”
“Roger that. We don’t get much easier duty,” the fellow said.
“And thank you for your care and hospitality,” Jeff said looking over his shoulder at Dianna and Nick.
“Security alert,” the radio still on ground ops said. “We have a large truck approaching the Civil Aviation gate at high speed.”
“April to your board,” Jeff said. “It’s hot. Get us a camera view to that side.”
“Truck has driven through the gate post and taken fire. It appears to be armored up and that hasn’t slowed it. We need medical to the CA gate as quickly as possible.”
“Maybe we need to get out of here,” Diana said.
“Not to your car. You don’t want to be out there. I see it coming down the Civil Aviation runway already. Lie down on the back bulkhead,” April ordered.
Diana did as instructed, but Nick just sat, tilting his head up to see the screens with them.
“Honolulu Departure… Oh crap, no time. April, laser that sucker, hard.” The big box truck was to the end of the runway already and aimed straight at them. If anything he was accelerating.
“Designated. Firing,” April said.
The truck vanished in a white-hot ball of flame that threw smoking chunks of debris in every direction.
“Hatch close!” April remembered before the shock wave got to them.
A giant hand slapped the ship and rolled Nick on his side.
“Tip point!” Jeff said as the ship leaned past the point of recovery, headed to impact on the pavement. A shrill alarm was saying the same thing.
There was nothing else left to do… “Jump,” Jeff said.
Nick and Diana came floating off the back bulkhead.
“What happened? It’s dark outside,” Nick asked looking past Jeff and April out the forward viewports. Then he realized he wasn’t sitting on the bulkhead anymore and snapped his head around to look at it. That was a mistake. He pulled his shirt up over his face and vomited into it. He pulled it off over his head, trying to hold it wadded closed, and then had to use it again.
“Locker five,” April told Diana pointing. She wasn’t an old hand at zero g but she got a trash bag and sealed Nick’s shirt in it before they had a mess to clean up.
“I’m so sorry,” Nick said, thoroughly embarrassed.
“Don’t be. That was mighty quick thinking. You had no warning, a full stomach, and way too much excitement,” April said. “You did marvelously.”
“Do you need an antiemetic shot?” Jeff asked.
“Now that I’m empty, I feel fine,” Nick said as if it surprised him too. “I’d sure appreciate something to get the taste out of my mouth.”
“Cold drinks and stuff behind the yellow door with a recessed release,” April said, pointing again. “I’d suggest a Coke, and keep another bag handy, just in case.”
“I still don’t understand. Did I pass out a little bit? We were tipping over and then we were floating here. It seemed continuous, but maybe I blacked out?”
“No, that’s just how the ship works,” Jeff assured him, “though I never intended to do it sitting on the ground. I just couldn’t think of any other choice. She was so far over I doubt she could have stabilized if I fired the engines. We’d have cartwheeled into the apron from the momentum of our rotation before it could straighten out.”
“Where are we then?” Nick asked, still a little confused.
“That’s an interesting question. About a hundred kilometers above the Earth, but not on a perpendicular like I planned, and without a margin from climbing out on our engines added to that. We are that distance away from Honolulu on something more than a seven-degree angle, because we’d passed our tip point. We’ll be starting to fall back to Earth, at a steep angle since we have the same rotational velocity we had on the surface, but I’ll do something about that very quickly, before it becomes a problem.”
“To the west, and becoming more so, because that’s the way we were tipping,” April said. “Better than tipping towards North America and giving them something to shoot at. But I thought we had a full ten degrees before we were in danger of going over?”
“Not with four tons of gold changing our center of gravity higher,” Jeff said. “Look, I’d like to rotate the ship but don’t want you two tumbling around the cabin. Can you guys hang on to the access stairs while I turn her?”
With Diana’s help, Nick got a grip behind April’s seat and Diana behind Jeff’s.
“Ship, flip one-eighty dead slow,” Jeff voice commanded.
There was a barely perceptible motion as the ship twisted around them. Nick and Diana tightened their grip on the stairs briefly and then took on the motion.
There was another tug as the rotation was ended and they all looked at the new scene outside the viewports. In front of a grand view of the Earth, a flat shield of concrete with a hole burned through the middle from their landing was flipping end over end receding very slowly. The flat side turned away and the opposite face it showed was a segment of a sphere, dotted with the shiny ends of embedded rebar. Floating to one side was the front end of Diana’s car, cut off short of the windshield.
“Oh Floyd, they killed you,” Diana wailed.
“There was somebody out there?” Jeff asked, horrified. “I mean other than whoever was driving the truck bomb. I can’t care about him.”
“No, Floyd was my car. Named after my third husband. You’d have to know him, but he was expensive, lasted way too long and…was kind of underpowered too,” Diana admitted.
“Ship, back off, ten seconds full power on attitude jets,” Jeff ordered.
The slowly flipping lens of concrete and wreck receded until Jeff started them turning back away from it.
“The fee for patching the pavement is going to be a little higher,” April predicted.
“The crater where the truck bomb went off is going to be even bigger and I expect we’ll get billed for that too. I can hardly blame them,” Jeff allowed. “I’m checking the camera in the hold. It appears the Brinks guys did strap everything down just fine, so I can set course for Home.”
“I’m going to Home?” Nick asked, surprised.
“Do you really think I’m going to set back down there just to drop you off?” Jeff asked. He was punching commands on his board to move them before they fell and broke up.
“No, I’m kind of running behind the curve today. Everything is happening faster than I can process it,” Nick admitted. “But you better call Diana’s patrol service and tell them to put a car in her drive to watch both houses, and feed Ele’ele while we are gone.”
“Oh crap, and take the roast out I have thawing in a Dutch oven and cancel it cooking at 1400,” Diana remembered.
* * *
“Show me again,” The Chief of Hawaii’s new military asked his aide.
The surveillance video from the nearest pole camera was of excellent quality. His aid held up the tablet and left it slowed down to show detail like the first time he played it. The truck was barreling down the runway at a good clip, at least a hundred thirty kph. It was right on the end markers almost off the runway when it blew. You could see the driver and he appeared to be alone. The was a flare of light on the roof of the cab that traveled back to the box behind just before the explosion.
“They definitely shot him,” he said for the third time. “If you watch closely you can see the dark dot of a port open high on the ship.” He looked down at the bowl cut out of the concrete like a melon baller had scooped it out. There was a small patch of bare dirt at the bottom though it seemed to be charred. “The tower said he called out, “Honolulu Departure,” and then “Oh crap, no ti…” the last word cut off when he released the mic. Time, probably. But the ship is there, falling over in the video, and then it’s just gone.”
“The car…” Words failed him. The front was shaved off flush with the hole in the concrete. The front tires and suspension were gone, so it sat tilted down against the pavement.
The aide nodded agreement but had nothing to add. It was just as inexplicable to him.
“The Prime Minister is going to come take a look at it and he’s bringing some of the civilian intelligence people,” his aide warned.
“Why not? This cries out for spooks if anything ever did. It’s the spookiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled, amused. “I’m going to stick around just to watch them squirm and try to look like they have any idea what did this.”
* * *
“So, we just went >POOF< and disappeared?” Nick asked.
“It’s complicated,” April said. Jeff looked at her like he wanted to argue that.
“We disappeared there,” she continued, “but when we appeared above, and we rolled over to look at the Earth and all the crap we dragged along with us, we still retained the motion we had sitting there on the ground.
“You realize, speaking of sitting there on the ground and in the next breath saying we were in motion sounds very contradictory to me,” Nick said.
“You have a very narrow view, like a lot of grounders,” April said. “You are sitting at rest relative to the ground, but the ground, the entire Earth is spinning. That why most people launch to the east. That’s free motion towards reaching orbital speed since that’s the direction the Earth is turning,” April said, twirling a finger hanging down counter-clockwise.
“Oh, I guess I thought it was to be out over the ocean if it crashed.”
“And the spinning Earth is in motion around the sun,” Jeff said, making the same twirling motion, but making it progress along a bigger arch.
“And the sun…” April started, but Nick held up a forestalling hand.
“That’s entirely enough twirling layers,” he objected. “I get it. Don’t run it into the ground. Have you watched a ship do this? Does it boom or flash or dissolve in sparkles like a science fiction movie?”
“Interesting you should ask that. We never did this before. I’d love to see video of us leaving if your people have any. There’s a broad-spectrum flash of radiation, but I’m not sure how bright the visible portion would be against the landscape and sky in full sunlight. I suppose it makes a bit of a >pop< when all the air rushes back in to fill the hole where the air and, uh, other stuff was, that we took with us.”
“You never did this before?” Nick asked in horror. He couldn’t say any more, shaking his head no in disbelief, much gentler than the first time it made him sick.
“Would you rather have toppled over on the pavement?” Jeff asked. “We’ve jumped out at altitude before, but we were just dragging some very thin air along. April had this silly idea when we first discovered the effect, that if you jumped sitting on the lunar surface, you’d drag the whole moon along with you. Obviously, we know that’s not true now.”
“Because you just tested it for the first time?”
“Well yes, I don’t think we need to test it with various larger bodies. We’ve tested dragging smaller objects along to start assembling a moon,” Jeff admitted. “We know it’s limited even if we haven’t established all the parameters.”
“You’re insane to take these kinds of chances,” Nick declared.
“I doubt you can show that in a clinical sense,” Jeff said. “I may seem insane by your personal sense of risk taking. I’m sorry you feel that way after I saved us all, but I didn’t invite you aboard. You asked to see the flight deck.”
“I asked…” Nick repeated.
April tried hard to look neutral and Diana looked embarrassed, but for who?
“My people probably think I’m dead,” Nick concluded.
“Well that’s easily fixed if you like,” Jeff offered. “We can call them up and let them see you on com and chat with them easily enough. If you want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Nick asked him.
“It’s very hard to disappear in the modern world. If you aren’t happy with anything. If you’d like a fresh start. It’s a rare gift to have a chance to disappear and start over. That is one of the benefits of coming to Home. You can declare any name you want coming in and that’s who you are as far as we’re concerned.”
“I’m delighted with how my life is going. Couldn’t you tell? I have a responsible position and worthwhile work. I have a foot in the door for bigger things down the road.”
“Oh, I’m glad for you. I just didn’t know. We’ve never discussed it. Do you want to call now or leave it for later when you aren’t so upset?”
Nick started to open his mouth to object, and then stopped. “Maybe that would be better,” he had to admit. Even Jeff could tell he was upset without discussing it.
* * *
“The security sensors on the field registered a very brief pulse of radiation at the exact instant the ship disappeared,” The Hawaiian agent, Meijer, told his boss, Morton.
“How brief and what kind?” he demanded.
“Within a single clock cycle of the detectors, so less than four microseconds. It was a spread of soft x-rays, harder x-rays, and gamma. In my opinion probably frequencies outside the sensitivity of the sensor. Only the closest sensor at the end of the runway that was cratered showed some beta and some heavier particles, likely heavier than alpha rays.”
“Fission products?” he wondered.
“I can’t disprove that but my gut feeling is no,” Meijer said. “There were no neutrons detected at the more distant sensors at air freight. And no radiation at the depression from fission products.”
“Was there enough to be a health hazard if you’d been close?”
“The count at the sensors fit an inverse square profile. At fifty meters you’d have gotten about as much as an old-fashioned film x-ray. So no. There was also a sharp ‘click’ at all radio frequencies.”
“Radar too?”
“I didn’t think to check,” Meijer admitted. “I’ll have the recordings checked for artifacts.”
The chief scowled and thought, but nothing made sense.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, examining the video frame by frame the last frame with the ship visible shows a small flash of visible light where the nose of the ship is.”
“It’s glowing?” his boss asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s a point source. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was a specular reflection on the hull. The video has a two hundred forty a second refresh rate. I think it is similar to a double exposure. The ship is there for part of that frame and then the flash happens before it is finished.
“Tell me more about the Business Minister,” Morton demanded.
“Nick Naito, he’s promoted Singh landing and doing business on the island before. They’ve landed at remote fields for security and never had any trouble like this. There was a third party involved in this flight with a high value shipment, so they wanted it done at a normal port with more security than isolation would afford them. There is no evidence Naito or his neighbor, Diana Hunt, planned to lift with the ship. Supposedly, they were just seeing Singh and his partner Lewis off.
“Indeed, what convinced me of that was they called Hunt’s security company to secure the house, feed her dog, and remove a roast from the oven. Who would go to all that trouble to cover a planned exit? He lives next to the Hunt woman up a remote road on a ridge, but the home is owned by the Lewis woman. He hasn’t called his agency yet, but then he’s still on personal time and hasn’t missed going to the office yet.
“Some others in government have been up there. He had a bit of a party for them. They also told me he doesn’t own it, but one winked and laughed, and another laid his finger against his nose and tilted his head like a Brit. He also has a shared apartment in the city more people are familiar with. Do we have any idea who sent the truck bomb?”
Morton didn’t reply quickly. Probably deciding if Meijer had any need to know.
“There were some organic remains we are almost sure were from the driver. They test Asian, but no match anybody will admit having. I’ll believe it was unplanned by Singh or the others on the ship,” his boss said. “You don’t shave it that close with your ship knocked off balance headed for ruin as a diversionary stunt. And from what? Is Naito involved with the Lewis woman who lets him live there?”
“More likely the neighbor,” Meijer said. “She’s twenty-five years older than him but she’s had Life Extension Therapy on Home. You would guess her age by her appearance at about thirty years old now. And she rents a place on Home from Singh too. It appears to be common knowledge on Home that Singh is involved with the Lewis girl. They are business partners and appear in gossip sites attending clubs together.”
“They are all connected back and forth in a hopelessly complex mess, aren’t they?” the spy boss asked. He illustrated by meshing his fingers.
“The more we learn, the less I expect it to get any simpler. April, the Lewis woman, visited the island a few years back. She shot a North American official dead and was attacked by the Chinese while on the island. She was staying with a Japanese family, the Santos, and they whisked her off the island on a private boat.”
That was interesting. When he mentioned the Santos his boss stiffened all over. That would be something worth remembering. The old boy was usually unflappable.
“I’m going to be very careful about the whole affair. Everywhere I look there is serious money involved. The houses up there on the ridge run about thirty million Australian. The Hunt woman seems to have a whole list of island properties and interests in businesses. I’m aware she has been married at least six times and had substantial settlements or inheritances from every one of them.”
“Six times? Unless she was hiding some of the earlier ones you have to be unduly optimistic to be number five or six and think it would end well.”
“I know, but they all were highly successful intelligent businessmen. Maybe they knew but thought it worth the cost,” Meijer suggested. “It’s like buying a mega-yacht. Nobody thinks it’s going to be an investment. Oh! And the manifest for the ship said it was picking up a cargo of four tons of gold.”
That made his boss lift his eyebrows. “I understand. People at that level don’t like to have their affairs questioned or even examined too closely. Given the need to show a little discretion with these particular actors, would you feel comfortable having your name on this report to the Prime Minister?”
“As long as you make clear it’s at least half pure speculation. And in my humble opinion, when you interrogate the Minister, I wouldn’t try to sweat him or make any threats you aren’t sure you can deliver.
“Fine. I’ll put my name on it first and make that clear. I want my butt covered too.”
* * *
“I’m aware neither of you has zero g experience. We don’t have an acceleration couch for you either. So I can’t ask you to put up with high acceleration on a bare hard bulkhead. What I’m going to do is hold my acceleration at a half g which makes resting on a hard surface bearable, but plot a course that keeps us under that acceleration constantly, except for a brief pause to flip over in the middle. We’ll arrive at Home pretty dry, get more mass there, and another pilot will take the ship to central to be unloaded.
“I’d have thought you’d want to keep the gold at your bank,” Nick said.
“We don’t even have an office on Home,” Jeff told him. “Our bank on Home is my pad and local backup. Irwin, at the Private Bank, has offices in the main business corridor. It’s a significant expense. If I had to, I might pay him to keep something in his vault, but not four tons. Even he forwards anything of high value to Central. It’s taken down kilometers deep there, where it is safe.”
“If this ship is going on to the Moon, when am I going to have a chance to go home?”
“You just got a free lift to Home,” Diana told him. “That’s worth about an ounce. Since you are here why not just tell your people it will be a week or two before you will be able to arrange passage back to Hawaii? I’ve been on Home enough to be your tour guide and show you some things. Consider yourself my guest. Jeff has been staying at my apartment when I’m on Earth, but he has other places to stay and you can guest with me.”
Nick thought about that. “OK, it’s not like I left voluntarily. We were attacked. I can hardly be blamed for abandoning my post. I’ll call my superior and my people when we get to your place,” he told Diana. “Is there somewhere I can buy some clothes and things?”
“No, we all just run around the corridors naked in paint and feathers,” Diana said dead-pan.
“I see… Then, some nice feathers, and blue paint?” he asked. “I look good in blue.”
After they had a good laugh at his expense, he got serious again.
“Is there anything about this you don’t want me to repeat?” Nick worried. “They are going to interrogate me. If they put me under the cap there very little they won’t know.”
“Nick, we used to obsess about what we did where it might be seen,” April told him. “What we came to find out is that even if you tell people secrets directly most of them won’t believe them. They often won’t believe their own eyes if it contradicts what they know. Don’t worry about it. Just go ahead and tell it as you remember it.”
After Jeff docked on Home they exited to the north spindle. A young man was waiting who touched hands with Jeff and went aboard to take it on to the Moon. They proceeded to a security console at the hub entry and each touched a screen there. The screen flashed green and said WELCOME to each.
“The computer knows us,” Diana told Nick. “Jeff told Home security he was bringing a passenger in. Jon isn’t going to run an officer up here for one passenger he and April both vouch for. Touch it like us and it will prompt you.”
When Nick touched it the screen showed yellow and black letters asked, “NAME?”
He typed in Nicolas Naito and hit the register bar offered under that.
“WELCOME, NICOLAS,” it said and went back blank.
“That’s it?” he asked unbelieving. “No numbers, no history, no fees?”
“It would have asked you to wait here for an interview with a security officer if you weren’t with us,” April told him.
“Honey, that’s just the start of strange things you’ll see,” Diana promised him.
* * *
“Diana and Nick seem closer than I expected,” Jeff said after they turned off in opposite directions at the half g level.
“Good neighbors are a treasure,” April said neutrally. “Let’s go home.”
“You don’t need any alone time? I can go to my office,” Jeff offered.
“Don’t make me coax you. I’m too frazzled and tired,” April said.
“OK, and I want a long hot shower to get the suit smell off me,” Jeff said.
“And take-away from the Fox and Hare. I don’t want to go anywhere,” April said.
“Not tonight, I’m tired too, but in the next couple days I want to go to Central,” Jeff said. “We have the Hringhorni coming in soon and I want to hear their report and talk to Barak about some things. We haven’t been with Heather often enough lately and worry about her being so wrapped up in the kingdom we grow apart.”
“Let her know we’re coming,” April warned him. “She honestly is busy but will delegate or put things off if she can to clear time for us. I wouldn’t say anything about growing apart though. That might hurt her feelings that you think it’s even possible. Just act to prevent it, not talk about it.”
“OK, you understand these things better than me,” Jeff acknowledged.

Chapter 18
“Annette, what is going on?” Dakota asked her.
“I told you I was leaving Camelot, Mum. I got a call from Jeff yesterday that he closed his deal to sell Camelot. We agreed I’d just leave when that happened with no further notice. You know how crazy those people have been. We wanted to avoid any unpleasantness. I took a hopper to Armstrong and I wanted to do some shopping before I come home. I’ll take the morning bus and be home tomorrow. I’m not in a rush to do anything. I want to take a few days off before I start thinking about what to do next. Jeff indicated he might be able to get me some specialized training. Did somebody from Camelot call and worry you?”
“No, a courier service just called and asked if I could receive a shipment from Jeff for you. I told them to route it here to my office rather than at home. If you were going to buy a nice courier bag at Armstrong don’t bother. They gifted you with a lovely one.”
“That’s nice. Jeff probably told them to do that,” Annette guessed. “He indicated he was going to pay me a bonus for everything I did to make Camelot viable and more valuable. He offered to put it in an account for me but you already handle my money for me and I’m happy with that. He’s supposed to pay me in cash and I probably won’t spend it. I’ll just keep it as a keepsake of my first real job. I never keep any cash so it will be nice to have some. The bag is a nice touch. He can be so strange I’m surprised he was so thoughtful.”
“Did he tell you how much he intended to gift you?” her mom asked.
“Just that it’s the same as the real estate lady’s fee. It’s a bonus, a gift, so I didn’t want to seem crass and ask how much right away.”
Dakota just nodded. She had raised the girl not to be demanding or avaricious.
“Well, he didn’t send any coins so it may be awkward spending it,” Dakota said, “He sent two of these in the bag.”
She hefted a long gold bar the size of a demi-baguette in front of the camera to display it.
Annette looked at it uncomprehending for a moment.
“Two of them?” she asked finally.
“Yep, four hundred ounces each,” Dakota assured her. Earthies call them a London Good bar or a LBMA. But the two are the overflow. The rest are in three crates on the floor. Like the bag they were kind enough to leave the hand cart for them.”
“How many in the cases?” Annette asked, shocked.
“Ten in each. Two layers of five bars. They have Earthie makings on them so apparently he just reused the cases in which he took delivery.”
“I take it back. He thinks that’s funny to have that delivered because I was too nice to ask what my bonus would be.
“No, you were right the first time. He’s strange. If he did it as a joke that would be a sign he’s improving at social things. On the other hand, we may look back and laugh at it later. That’s the nature of absurd experiences. If I were you, I wouldn’t complain about it. But I think one would suffice as a keepsake. You can’t relate, but on Earth, we’d be joking about putting these two into service as a doorstop and paperweight,” she said, hefting it for the camera again.
Annette smiled and nodded, she had no idea why you’d want to stop a door from cycling or press paper but resolved to look up what those things were, later.
“Could you deposit them for me, just like you did my pay?” Annette asked.
“No, I think this is a good opportunity to make you learn to do your own banking and investment. It’s a good thing to know and part of growing up we’ve put off. I’ll put these two on your com console dear. The rest will be stacked against the wall next to it. You can buy deep storage or pick a banker. That alone will be a learning experience for you. They’re your problem now.”
“I’m rather wealthy then, suddenly, aren’t I?” Annette realized.
“Middling, for the Moon. Think about it carefully and don’t blab it to everybody right away,” her mom advised. “As soon as you have a little money everybody will have a scheme to make you richer or have their hand out for some charity. If they don’t know it buys you some peace.”
“Thanks. I’ll study it and learn how I want to handle it. Any other suggestions?”
“Well, speaking as your mother, a nice thank you note to your boss would be in order.”
* * *
“Can April and I come back three days from now?” Jeff asked. “Deloris will be bringing the Hringhorni back home and you always like a face to face report. I’d like to sit in and maybe have a one on one with Barak a day or two later.”
“Make it two days if not three,” Heather said. “They need to decompress from their trip just as much as you two did from Earth. I’d like to hear your story too, not just a bare bones text.”
“I have to detail every stupid thing I did for you?” Jeff asked.
“You survived, so likely the only stupid thing you did was going down in the first place. You can tell the crew about it. Maybe they can learn something from it. I’ll have Amy put out a cold lunch for everyone. They always like that.”
“Nick and the other Hawaiians were very welcoming to us. I have no idea why we were targeted. I haven’t asked, but I doubt there was enough left after the truck bomb blew up to give any clues about who sent it. But April was right. Earth is just too dangerous for us and we are going to end up dead if we keep letting ourselves get lulled into thinking it’s safe again.”
“You don’t think it had to do with the gold?” Heather asked, surprised.
“What would be the advantage?” Jeff asked. “I’d taken possession of it so ownership had transferred. If my buyers wanted to retain it, scattering it all over the airport parking apron wouldn’t have seen it returned to them. And that was only part of the payment. Nobody tried to stop or divert the bank transfer. Neither would a third party try to steal it that way. They would want a chance to quietly load it and haul it away. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I see your logic,” Heather agreed, “but I don’t know who to blame.”
“There’s such a spectrum. On the one hand, China and North America always have it out for us,” Jeff said displaying one palm. “On the other hand…” he looked at the other palm, dubious. “I think we can rule out Japan and Iceland. But it might be some faction, even inside a friendly nation instead of nation states.”
“Well yeah, North American political parties, even those out of power. On that other hand there are space nuts in most countries cheering us on, and people like the Amish who have so little in common with us I can’t see how they’d care one way or the other.”
“People slip up,” Jeff said. “They brag to wives or lovers and then break up. They get drunk and babble. Chen or Jan may find something a year from now.”
“Put out a reward if nothing turns up for free after a while,” Heather suggested.
“I’ll do that. Are we good to visit?” he asked again.
“Yes, I’ll clear most everything, but I hold court the morning after you arrive. That’s too big a deal to skip. It’s a set tradition now I don’t want to break.”
“That’s fine. Maybe nobody will have a problem to present.”
“Don’t I wish,” Heather said, “that hasn’t happened for a long time.”
* * *
Lindsey looked at the Earth news sites. She’d been trying to teach herself caricature, the last few months. Political cartoons were some of the best examples of that art. It helped that she could view multiple photos of a politician and then the artist’s take on their features. She was already firmly of the opinion that a lot of the artists couldn’t draw a realistic image of their subjects if their life depended on it. She felt an almost life-like image with just slight exaggeration was much more effective than examples closer to totally fictional characters.
The cartoon she was looking at now showed the Australian Prime Minister and his Education Secretary. The Education Secretary was drop dead gorgeous. The artist tried to make her best features overdone, exaggerating the chin, squeezing the face more heart-shaped, and making her large eyes almost child-like. The Prime Minister was cruder, but he’d started less attractive. They were having a difference of opinion that had been leaked by a third party and her position was more closely aligned with public opinion. That happened to agree with Lindsey’s opinion of public education from her experience with North American schools. In the cartoon, he was seated jammed in a small old-fashioned school desk and she was instructing him with a thin long pointer and a physical whiteboard.
It just irritated Lindsey how badly it was done. She grabbed a sheet of paper and sketched rapidly. She did the Secretary almost photo-realistically. Just simplified enough a viewer would be sure it wasn’t a photo slightly posterized. The story she told was all based upon body language. The secretary was seated on a bench with the Prime Minister. The caption balloon had the Secretary saying they were in perfect harmony. To Lindsey’s mind, the hypocrisy made it as negative for the Secretary as the Prime Minister. However she was leaning away just enough to reveal revulsion, and her hands were clasped together but shifted away from him, arm held to her side closer like she was afraid of contact. She did have her head turned toward him a bit, but it was in such contrast to the body lean it looked uncomfortable and strained.
Lindsey allowed herself to exaggerate his baggy eyes slightly, because the public associated that with dissolution, and his already pointy nose was pointed straight at the viewer to emphasize it. They associated that with the upper class unfavorably. His seating was loose and knees spread in the manner that spoke of a low-class lack of self-awareness.
She tried to clear her mind and look at it with fresh eyes and decided to change the font. She scribbled her signature in the corner last and sat it on her camera platen to archive.
“This is how you do it,” she wrote to the news site and sent it off attached to the mail.
A half-hour later she had a light blinking on her com. When she answered, it was a man she didn’t know, holding a print of her cartoon.
“You submitted this, but didn’t state any terms or payment to use it. It’s damn good. What are you asking for it? I want to run it for the next two days while the issue is hot.”
“Oh, you’re the editor I sent it to?”
“I’m Jack Tollar, an editor but not the head editor listed on site,” he said, refusing the urge to correct her grammar. “He doesn’t deal with this, but he sent it down to me and pretty much said to get the rights to run it. I don’t recognize your signature or your style. Is that a pen name? And why is this connection so laggy?
“That’s my real name. I’m a citizen of Home, which is why there is a three-second delay. It’s not an equipment issue. We’re on the other side of the Moon. I grew up in North America and my family moved up here. I do political stuff, but usually just for Home. Most of my work is portraiture and fine art. That issue just happened to resonate with me and I couldn’t resist being all snarky.”
“That you were, in fine form,” the man admitted.
“You can’t afford my rates. I don’t advertise to Earth but when I sell down there it’s usually to space nuts, and I get a thousand dollars Australian for a print, not an original. Just take it. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be inspired to do another. I don’t see it as a viable market for me.”
“I have to pay you something for legal reasons,” Tollar said. “Name a number.”
“Oh, OK,” Lindsey said, indifferently. “All rights in perpetuity, five thousand Australian.”
“Thank you,” Tollar said, a little strained. “Do you have a physical address?”
“Just send it to the Private Bank of Home in my name. They know who I am.”
“If you have other work, I’d gladly consider it, Tollar said.
“I captured your addy. If something else motivates me I’ll show it to you, bye.”
* * *
“There’s an Earthie sitting waiting for court,” Dakota said when she came to work. “He was first, standing alone outside the door when I opened up.”
Heather was still at the breakfast table with Jeff and April. They’d sat there talking and never bothered to move to the living room. Dakota sat and helped herself to a muffin.
“Let’s go watch,” Jeff suggested. “It’s always entertaining but he might be better than usual.”
“Why not?” April agreed. “I don’t want to ruin my good mood trying to work until she’s done.” She thought a moment. “I wonder if any Earthies watch for entertainment?”
“Ask my IT guy,” Heather said. “I don’t restrict access. Not even to the archives.”
Right on the hour, they entered the audience hall and Dakota noted the date, stated the scope of the court, and suggested some might want to withdraw and settle their differences privately with less risk. Nobody took the opportunity.
“The custom is first come, first served. If you’d step to the carpet you can state your case.” Dakota told the Earth gentleman.
He left his attaché case on the bench and stepped to the carpet without notes. Despite the expensive Earth suit and silly hard shoes, he wore expensive high-end spex.
“I am Dirk Crabeth. The Martian Republic has retained me to speak to you and ask your intentions concerning the contract you partially fulfilled, and if you intend to continue removing surplus personnel and collect your final payment?”
“If you are bringing a matter between states, it has been our custom to consider those things in private after considering civil matters. Can I invite you to attend myself and my partners in my residence after I hold court?” Heather invited.
“We are aware of that from examining the previous transcripts. I was asked to request a reply in open court on the public record.”
“As you wish. I don’t know how well you know your clients, but candid discussion in a public forum is as likely to be an embarrassment to them as us, if not more so,” Heather warned.
“My firm was engaged by interplanetary text message, which is a first for us. I’m aware I have no special standing before your court and plan to make my plea based on moral imperative rather than case law, of which little exists in deep space.”
“Very well, I need to explain where we stand from our point of view. You are welcome to say how that seems to you, and freely contradict it.
“This wasn’t a commercial contract, but a concord between sovereign states. The First Republic of Mars, even after declaring independence, had a dependent relationship with the European Union and continued the scientific mission of the outpost. It was only after they completely abandoned the scientific mission and engaged in a bloody revolution that the Second Martian Republic arose. It would seem the European Union citizens financially supporting the Martians felt the same because their donations have collapsed.
“I submit it is no successor nation. We rescued scientific staff in two flights, for fear they would be outright killed for lack of environmental capacity. We took significant measures to increase that capacity, such that the pressure is off them for a time.
“We didn’t have a relationship of high trust with the First Republic, and find no basis for a deeper trust in the Second. We received two artifacts as pay for removing two shuttle loads of unwanted scientists. The service and payment thus stand on a rough par, and if they wanted to pursue a similar arrangement, they would have to negotiate it anew as a new nation. I refuse to send ship and crew to a landing where I fear they will be hijacked or outright killed to acquire the tech and capacity in our ships,” Heather said and nodded to Crabeth that it was his turn to speak.
“They feel they are the legitimate successors to the previous administration,” Crabeth replied, “and that is the extent of the change, not a new nation. New nations customarily acquire the assets and liabilities of the state they displaced. Their survival is even more in question and contingent on you fulfilling your contract since the Sandman has not launched in the optimum window to arrive with supplies and remove more personnel.”
“I’m curious why they hired you by text when my com code is public,” Heather said. “They dealt with me by an official spox before but could have contacted me directly. This feels like a public relations gimmick. A setup. You wouldn’t try to make me look bad in public if you have any other handle. I assume that’s why you didn’t call first either. It would have been private.” She thought about that and looked even more unhappy with Crabeth.
Behind Crabeth, a couple looked at each other alarmed and silently nodded. They got up and left. That left one other petitioner who jumped up and hurried to follow them.
“I’m told their previous spox is deceased and they are unable to send another, leaving them with no Earth representative. They have no idea when they will be able to send another with the idling of the Sandman.”
Heather looked outright amused.
“Mr. Crabeth, there are several levels of misinformation and error here. Your client has lied to you outright at least once, and hidden other vital information from you. I assume you are an attorney although you haven’t made that claim. I’m sure you’ve had clients before who were not entirely candid with you?”
“I’m approved to appear before the highest European court. I didn’t mention that because I thought it might sound as if I thought it meant something here. I’m aware that isn’t true. I don’t know of any attorney who hasn’t had a client lie to them. Often to the detriment of their case.”
“I’ll tell you the reality of the matter, and you are welcome to use the sort of veracity software on my statements that Earth courts are so fond of outlawing as unreliable. In the case of the Martians, I’m no stranger to the chaos of revolution. I know what they went through. You may assume there was no exit interview with the previous government in which they explained verbal agreements and handed over files in an orderly fashion. Rather they died in a hail of gunfire or explosions, and their more sensitive documents were encrypted beyond recovery or destroyed. Wiping the archives when the opposition is breaking down the door is an honored tradition.
“The current regime on Mars is mistaken. The spox for the previous government is not dead. He escaped and took the entire fund of his Martian government with him when he absconded. If you were assigned to discover and recover those monies as a condition of being paid, things are looking very bad for you.”
For the first time, Crabeth looked uncomfortable.
“The Martian government obviously has agents on Earth they could have designated as spox, though the skill set of assassins might not apply well. Of course, if they discovered those assassins failed, or if they were also charged with recovering the Martian banking accounts, they may well be as out of favor as DeWalt, the former spox. However, unless they have a second or third layer of agents on Earth, they have no way to act against those failed agents.
“Part of our unwritten understanding with the previous Martian government was to keep a secret of theirs. Since that government is gone, I am not bound by that. I’ll gift you with what your client is hiding. The entire purpose of the Martian state now is to hide the fact they have the wreck of an alien starship. They have so little faith in their fellow man that they imagine there will be panic and chaos if humanity finds that out. They are a cult, dedicated to keeping that from the rest of us. Now that you know, be aware they are willing to kill to keep that secret. You have madmen as clients, and now you are at risk too.”
Crabeth stood silent, a look of intense concentration on his face. A lesser man might have asked time to withdraw and analyze the situation. He was used to thinking on his feet quickly.
“If they have such an advanced object, it would be a source of unimaginable wealth. Why do they not capitalize upon the technology? They could then buy any supplies and transportation they need in abundance.”
“Because, they have been examining the wreck systematically and all they have found they understood was a somewhat better design for a linear electric motor. Of the two artifacts they traded to us, one is a novel air circulator whose only real advantage is being quieter than ours. The other is a device that is useless because at least half of the system was destroyed in the crash. If they want, I’d be happy to send the damn things back to them to nullify any obligation they imagine we still owe. We haven’t done any destructive testing on them and they can have them back in their original pristine condition.”
“You are correct that I was charged with finding out what happened to their funds,” Crabeth said. “Since you invite me to examine your truthfulness electronically, let me ask you a question. If you don’t wish to answer that is your prerogative. If you do want to answer, it allows you to establish your innocence in this affair. Has your government taken advantage of this situation to gain access to those funds? You inform me their spox is alive. Have you sheltered him as a reward for looting their treasury?”
“But it would look suspicious if I refused to answer, wouldn’t it? You are still playing games with me, sir,” Heather accused. She thought as carefully as he had to frame a reply.
“Mr. DeWalt had the kindness to warn me there was a change of regime when he found himself in fear at the change. I appreciated that warning since it saved me from putting our crews at risk landing on Mars.
“We did not reward him for that, or get any other payment from him. Just that warning. We are not in receipt of any funds from him and don’t anticipate any such transaction in the future.
“Indeed I told him bluntly his previous association with his deposed government leaves me distrusting him. We will act neutrally with him, not seeking his harm, but I would never allow him in my kingdom unless I see that he has rehabilitated himself from those unsavory associations. He is simply no official concern of ours.”
Crabeth looked through Heather, blinking a couple of times, undoubtedly consulting his veracity software the expensive spex could run as a stand-alone program.
“Your statements are of the highest measurable level of belief,” Crabeth conceded, “but they say you know more about it than you stated.”
“You may always assume I know a great deal more about a subject than I stated,” Heather replied. “We maintain extensive and parallel intelligence systems that, if smaller than those of the great Earth powers, are much more efficient. I would not waste our day detailing everything I know that is not directly relevant. For example, I do not know the timing of Mr. DeWalt's disappearance from Europe, but I am aware he was hiding in a resort in Tahiti when agents of the Martian government blew his resort cottage up and thought they had eliminated him. I do not know where his funds were before or after that. I haven’t tried to find out because we have no designs on them. I have no idea where he is at the moment, and no interest in finding out.”
Crabeth nodded. “I’ll make your offer of restoration to the Martians. Also my firm conviction you are not in control of their funds keeping the Sandman from launching. May I ask you to seal this hearing in your record to preserve my client’s secrets whether you think their reasons valid or not, and charge your subjects with keeping the same secret?”
“You insist on a public hearing and them ask it to be kept sealed? You have more nerve than me,” Heather said. “I dislike devious skulking about and pointless mystery. I won’t change how I keep my archives. I’m starting to understand that such secrets are pointless anyway. Things we kept carefully secret, the public doesn’t believe when they are revealed. I might as well say flying saucers are piloted by the Loch Ness monster and expect I will be believed.”
“Well, at least the other petitioners…” he started to say, cutting that off when he looked over his shoulder at the empty benches. They could all see the realization hit him that he was the only inconvenient witness to everything that they’d said and Heather was seriously peeved with him.
“My Lady, may I have a word with Mr. Crabeth?” Jeff spoke up.
“Speak away if he’s willing. It gives me a break,” Heather said.
Crabeth nodded his acceptance too.
“With all these agents running about gathering facts that are ill understood, the Martians may have been informed I recently had a rather large payment for a real estate deal. Just in case they thought that was a sham deal to cover the transfer of the Martian funds, it was not. I made no effort to hide it or publicize it.
“I am interested however in how short the Martians find themselves of funds to cover the launch expenses for the Sandman. Given I have an unusual sum of cash sitting at risk of devaluation, I’d consider covering those expenses in return for some concessions. That would take the pressure off everyone involved. Did they tell you what you needed to recover to meet that pressing need?”
“They intimated they were short about a billion euromarks,” Crabeth said, amused at Jeff’s naivete. “I’m sorry,” he added, though he didn’t say for what.
“The euromarks have been running a bit over two to one against the Australian dollar,” Jeff said. “When you make my sovereign’s offer to restore their artifacts, tell them I am willing to pay them five hundred million Australian dollars for a land grant in their northern hemisphere equal to what the previous government ceded to my Lady, and an easement to allow passage from her territory to mine.”
“You feel they can legitimately convey title?” Crabeth asked, surprised.
“What’s more important is that other governments seem willing to acknowledge their sovereignty over the planet,” Jeff said. “Once I have a valid title my claim is superior. I have the armed ability to hold the property. The Martians are occupying it at the forbearance of the other nations. I suspect they all see it as a money pit offering no returns for ownership. Yet if I just took it, I suspect everyone would be eager to remove me. I’d much rather buy real estate with all this fiat currency than find other ways to convert it to stable assets.”
“You have that in liquid funds if they accept?” Crabeth asked. His distrust was just insulting.
“I have that in my private accounts,” Jeff assured him, a little offended at being questioned. “I can beam it off my pad to yours if you have the authority to receive it as the Martian’s rep. I’m sure it will clear without delay because we own the bank.”
“They did not give me that authority, nor indicate they expected me to recover their funds if we found you had them,” Crabeth hastened to add.
Heather gave a little horse snort of derision. “And if I’d said yes, I took your money, exactly what did they intend to do about it? Or did they even think that far ahead? Have they noticed there is no interplanetary court to whom they could appeal?”
“Your point is well taken and I will note it in my report,” Crabeth promised.
“Since you stepped forward to stand on the carpet before my justice, I’ll make a closing statement for the record,” Heather said. “It was ascertained that the matter was not subject to my sovereignty to dispose of by decree, and it was discussed as a matter between peers, though left largely unresolved for the time being.
“Does that satisfy you?” she asked Crabeth.
“That seems accurate,” he agreed.
“We’re done then,” Heather said dismissing him.
Jeff suddenly realized Heather hadn’t spoken in her sovereign voice. It made sense.
“Just out of curiosity, what do you intend to do with it if they sell?” Heather asked Jeff.
“Right now, open it up to tourists and let them roam around in a rover and sight-see. That will frost the Martians’ cookies but that’s too bad. I’ll let Dave finally build a modern ship to do the Mars run for tourists, and sell the trip and stay as a package. Eventually, maybe I’ll sell lots just like you do at Central. I have to figure out where the most spectacular scenery is to know where to build a hotel or two. What do you intend to do with the south side?”
“If you create reliable transportation you can develop a couple of tourist sites on my end,” Heather said. “You can sell a tour of the planet with stops at four or five locations. I’m not sure I want to sell any of it. My experience with Central is that once you have residents it gets complicated and eats up your time. I think I have enough of that here. I’m content just to hold it as speculation. The real estate paradigm that they aren’t making new land applies to planets too.
“I’ll think about that,” Jeff said. “I just unloaded one property with difficult tenants.”

Chapter 19
When the crew of the Hringhorni came in, they saw their employers were still upset over something and were concerned. They were assured it didn’t have to do with them and were told an abbreviated version of events, listening intently. April had a sudden insight watching how they responded to Heather. They felt respected to have the story shared with them. It wasn’t a damaging familiarity, it was a bonding event with their sovereign that built trust. April resolved to share that later.
That unexpected discussion ran them up against lunch. They shared a lighter conversation with the meal. When nobody went back for thirds Heather indicated she was ready to hear the report of their last star voyage.
“It was so exciting and so frustrating!” Deloris said. “We found a world with plant life. You can see trees from orbit. Not forests like we think of them but oases. There aren’t large oceans and not that many lakes. But there are salt flats and lakes.
“We need to go back with the Dionysus’ Chariot. There is no way we can wait until you build an explorer that carries landers. About the lakes, they are different colors too. Bright yellow or orange or green. Even a few blue, but a brilliant opaque blue.”
“Algae or bacteria,” Jeff hypothesized. “Well, their local analogs.”
“That’s what we thought. It will keep some people busy for years just cataloging them.”
“Have you named this planet?” Heather wondered.
“We all agreed to wait until we land and see it from the surface,” Deloris said.
“I didn’t follow the planning for this cruise,” April admitted. “How far out was this?”
“The furthest yet, three hundred light-years,” Deloris said. “It took two weeks, and we passed through some systems without even cataloging any but the biggest gas giants. There was a cluster of stars there we were aiming for and we didn’t get to survey any of them since we found this system and concentrated on it. There are three inner planets the second of which is a pair, and the third a hot world near as bad as Venus and four outer planets all rather boring and distant with no spectacular rings, but lots of little moons.”
“Is the air of the planet breathable?” Jeff asked.
“We’re pretty sure it is,” Alice said. “We need to get better samples, but it has oxygen. The partial pressure is estimated at a range of higher altitudes to approximate Earth normal. The question will be minor ingredients and if any of the biological traces are allergens or toxic.”
“Or infectious,” Barak warned.
“Congratulations, you are all rich now. You have shares in whatever wealth is generated from the entire system. If it is habitable that will be especially rich,” Jeff predicted.
“If it is, can we claim land, not just money?” Deloris asked. “We talked percentages before but never specifics. We need to sit and detail all that out.”
“Of course, as long as there are no natives,” Heather said.
“There weren’t any roads or buildings,” Alice said. “We surveyed a few areas with trees in two-hundred millimeter-resolution. I bet that would even pick up a game trail. We didn’t see any big animals or herds. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”
“Probably not,” Heather agreed. “But it’s the kind of thing we are going to have to think about. Trust us to treat you well. Up until now, we haven’t been sure there was anything to share besides mining rights. Now that we know there will be more, we have a real-life example to start building on. I’ll predict right now we can try to formulate all the benefits we can imagine and after we discover three or four more decent systems our initial rules won’t fit and will leave somebody unhappy. Let us agree to stay reasonable and ready to change our agreements to fit what we find in each system. We want you happy and out there discovering more. There are enough stars we don’t need to be stingy or greedy. Don’t forget, we aren’t asking you to fund any development. That’s all on us, and how do you prioritize things developing a whole world? It’s going to be interesting finding out.”
“You have to have learned a little something developing Central,” Barak said.
“I did, but I’ll go ahead and try it with planets anyway,” Heather quipped.
“The Earthies have a drive and are already trying to improve it. Eventually, they will be out there, competing with us. We can learn from their mistakes instead of just our own,” Jeff said.
“They have enough people and a vast enough economy to do it on a franchise basis,” April predicted. “They will let out bids for people to build cities and spaceports and just take fees.”
“I knew having you study economics would pay off,” Jeff said.
“Prediction,” Alice said raising a hand. “If they find some marginal worlds, they will use them to get rid of trouble makers and malcontents. Just like England used Australia. They will take Earth law and try to make it fit a new planet.”
“I can see it,” Deloris said. “We need to study colonial history and the exploitation of their resources and how it affected the mother country and their eventual rebellion and separation.”
“We need it all,” Jeff said. “Economics and history, and wisdom to know what repeats and what is just similar, because it is never exactly the same. It’s all intertwined. Every time growth and crash and expansion and war happened it was similar in the human motivations driving it, but slightly different in the technology used.”
“And under different political philosophies,” Deloris reminded them.
Heather sighed. “We never have enough specialized people. I never thought I’d be thinking of hiring historians.”
“Hire somebody who is a fab programmer or a doctor but a history nut on the side. Once they know you have any interest in it, they will do their hobby on the side for you and never even think of it as a second job,” Alice said. “The only problem is getting them to shut up about it. I had an uncle who was an accountant but lived and breathed everything about the First Atomic War. Did you know they made ships of concrete when they didn’t have enough steel? Uncle Ben could name them all,” she remembered with obvious horror.
“We’re going to need a geologist pretty quickly if we do landings,” Jeff said.
“It’s worse than that. We don’t know enough to know what we need. We need to know how many of each specialty we need and some idea of how long and the order in which they will work. Does that exist as a specialty on its own?” Deloris asked.
“Yes, I ran into that studying banking,” April said. “any of those mega-projects like they do on Earth, a dam or airport or refinery, all have a project planner and a staff under him. They plan out everything from how many hours of survey work will be required on the bare land right up through every step until construction security hands over the keys and passwords to the new owners and walks away.”
“You’d have to be a tremendous generalist,” Jeff said with awe in his voice. “You’d have to know a little something about every specialty you were going to hire.”
“Only the good ones I suspect,” April said. “I’d say it’s important to hire one with lots of experience. It would be worth the money. He will have learned all the hard stuff they never cover in school making mistakes on other people’s projects.”
“We saw Sajit Gupta in the cafeteria on Home,” Jeff said. “He’s staying in a hotel while he furnishes his new place on Beta. You might ask him to recommend a planner. I understand he does those sorts of big projects on Earth.”
“Damn…” Deloris muttered. She was looking at something on her pad.
“Regretting the pepper sauce?” Barak asked.
“I was trying to picture a percent of Earth’s land area. Remember, Earth is way more water than dry land. I couldn’t picture it, so I did a net query. The closest country to being one percent of the Earth’s surface is Persia. I guess Persia would be plenty to split three or four ways and have plenty of personal room.
“Bigger than Central, a vast estate or a bunch of different sites, and that’s just one planet. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but thanks for finding an example,” Heather said. “Now, go find another one, so you can have a different vacation retreat.”
Deloris started thinking about that and laughed uncontrollably.
* * *
Jeff didn’t expect a quick reply to his offer, but the next day they had barely finished breakfast when his com pinged and the Martians’ attorney Dirk Crabeth wanted to speak to him.
“Mr. Singh, my clients came to a quick decision and want to accept your offer for the northern polar region,” Crabeth said. “They agree you stand in an equitable condition regarding the services rendered for the artifacts you received and will regard that as a closed transaction.”
That was interesting. They must be desperate to have accepted so quickly, Jeff thought.
“That wasn’t my deal, it was with the sovereign of Central. You should inform her of that separately,” Jeff suggested “We share many business interests and I am a Peer. But her political status only applies to me if she directly commissions me to act for her. I was not her voice or agent with the Martians.”
“I will compose a separate note to her not mentioning you or this new transfer,” he agreed. “Now, what sort of documentation will satisfy you? I assume you share your sovereign’s wish not to expose a vessel to the risk of making a Mars landing? So you will not be picking up a wet-ink copy of the deed of sale. How do you wish to do this?” Crabeth asked.
“Copy the wording with which they ceded the southern region and add a clause to allow passage between them. Include in the document your power of attorney from the Martians so you can sign for them. It should be valid under the European Union laws to which you are subject. If you misrepresent your status, I want to be able to come after you where you live.” Jeff made no effort to spare his feelings. “I don’t hear any lag at all. Are you still on the Moon?”
“I took the afternoon bus to Armstrong and have a hotel room here. I can prepare the documents and be back at Central early enough to return on the evening bus.”
“That works for me,” Jeff agreed. And that easily, he bought a third of a planet.
* * *
When Jeff’s com pinged again, he wondered with irritation what Crabeth had neglected, to need to call right back, but it was the yellow light instead of the green. He thought of ignoring it for now, but April was in the shower and Heather off in her room. He had it in his hand anyway, so he went ahead and answered.
It took him three long seconds and two eye blinks to recognize the man. That embarrassed him because it was painted on the man’s face that he saw Jeff didn’t recognize him.
“Feng, I’m sorry. I was expecting a call back from a particularly annoying lawyer. What can I do for you?”
Feng was Annette’s previous manager, and one of the few people who had given her any cooperation and worked toward making the colony viable.
“Do you know what has happened here?” Feng asked.
“I sold the place. Of course, I’m aware of that. If you are speaking of anything else, I’d have no way to know. Annette left immediately when the deal closed. I’m responsible for that. She’s had so much opposition I didn’t feel it was safe for her to stay. Did you get a legal document that your residence is yours now? I sent quit-claim deeds to everyone living there.”
“That I did,” Feng acknowledged with a nod, but didn’t look grateful at all. He looked grim. “I also got a message from a Mr. Liem Handoko speaking for the new owners. He informed us that all the employees of the casino and the other support people for Camelot will be laid off after the next two groups of gamblers finish their stays. That will be ten days from now.”
Jeff didn’t reply right away, considering all the ramifications of that. Feng just stayed silent, aware it would take a minute to absorb that.
“The man is an idiot,” Jeff concluded quickly. “I was afraid for Annette’s safety. This just invites sabotage and reprisals. I wouldn’t put it past a few of the residents to open their places to vacuum, damage the power plant, or corrupt environmental systems. Come to that, it wouldn’t surprise me if the last batch of gamblers got snatched as hostages. They’re all rich.”
“Indeed, I packed quickly and called the very hopper that took Annette away back to evacuate me as soon as I got her text that she was gone. I’d have offered to share the ride if she’d confided in me. I was her manager and expected every bad reaction you imagined and worse to be directed toward me. With Annette gone I was the logical next target in line for their anger. They never blame themselves for anything. I was at Armstrong and looking for an apartment before Handoko sent the lay-off notice and offered us all a buy-out on our homes.”
“He did? What sort of offer did he make?” Jeff wondered. He was curious to compare it to what he’d have asked. He wasn’t prepared for the answer at all.
“By the most interesting coincidence, he offered just a little more than the cost of transportation back to Earth.” His face said he still wasn’t sure Jeff wasn’t in on it.
“Oh, Feng… I had no idea they would do such a thing. It’s outright extortion.”
Feng shrugged. “I accepted it as fast as I could reply. I was probably the first one. At least I got something. Holdouts may find the offer withdrawn and then what will they do? The ones with political connections don’t dare go back to China. They are all tainted by association with the previous government.”
“Do you know what the situation is for the Yangs?” Jeff asked. “I’m aware of them because of their young girl Hua. She impressed me when she visited.”
“You probably would not recognize her. She has had the growth you’d expect at her age. She and her family were here the day after me. They are more aware than most and saw the buy-out as a warning to leave. They’re entrepreneurs not above working and hired a shuttle to bring some of their equipment and supplies out. They’re the sort who will do just fine anywhere.”
“How about you? If you need employment, I can find a job for you at Central or Home.”
“Thank you. I don’t think I am ready to live under a queen. I expect there will be jobs available here for a good manager. My English is better than my French, but if I don’t care for Armstrong, I might even try Marseille before Central. No offense to your queen.”
“None taken. Thank you for informing me. I find that when people are angry at me, they often assume I know why. I appreciate the heads-up.”
Feng just nodded acknowledgment and disconnected.
April was standing there with wet hair.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?” she asked.
* * *
When Crabeth came back they examined the documents, signed copies, and were done in twenty minutes. He got paid, got a confirmation message back, and left, without any handshaking, celebration, or offers of refreshment. They did business with each other but there was no joy in it at all. Jeff wondered if this would be the last voyage of the Sandman? Even if he didn’t render it obsolete with his dedicated vessel, the North Americans or the French would apply the drive tech improvements from their starships to constant boost interplanetary vessels soon. Maybe they would preserve it as a museum display of some sort.
* * *
Vic got a text message from Ted Foster.
From: Theodore Foster
Subject: Travel here
Arlo has two men coming to conference with him. He vouches for them. They will come here on the way to Arlo’s. If you wish, they will travel with you for safety one way. Expect them tomorrow or the next day. No reply needed. I won’t be in contact with Arlo.
T.F.
That was a well thought out compact message. Vic showed it to Eileen.
“Can we be ready by then? Can you get Tommy and Pearl to house-sit on short notice? Can you interrupt some of the garden stuff you don’t have in yet? What about Alice?”
“I don’t see a problem for any of it. I don’t want to take Alice along. I see no advantage to it and nothing happening will be of interest to her. It’s not like a festival, it’s a private business meeting. The next question is if it makes sense for you to go?” Vic asked.
“It’s our business. I may want a say on things. You aren’t going to haul much beside those poles behind one bike, and you have no idea what you may want to haul back. If you try to travel too light and get delayed, you’ll end up sleeping on the ground hungry. Besides, if there is safety in numbers, people are less likely to mess with four than three.”
Vic called Alice and told her to run to the Woodleigh’s and see if they could house-sit. They grabbed a few things and came right back with her.
It was not only the next day, but fairly early in the morning that Arlo’s men showed up. It was a good thing Tommy and Pearl were there early. They felt much better to leave Alice, not worried about when they would arrive.
The men announced themselves blowing a signal whistle, staying well back and one squatting down while the other waved until Vic came to the door. When he advanced to the house, the other man stayed back until he met Vic, confirmed he had the right place and was invited into the living room where Eileen, Tommy, and Pearl were waiting to get a look at him. Vic didn’t feel obligated to introduce anyone or explain relationships.
When he was satisfied, he went to the door and gave a very brief double blow on the whistle and the other man joined him. Both were not shy about looking them over. They took in the fact both Tommy and Pearl were armed with long guns at hand. Vic had the feeling they were judging their health and general prosperity, as well as the state of their arms. He was sure they looked long and hard at their footwear. That might hold them back on the road. It wasn’t entirely clear if they passed inspection until the leader turned to say something to his partner. Alice was standing inside the door, pistol jammed in her jeans and rifle at the ready. He jerked a little to find her there. She’d entered utterly silently and was inspecting them as critically as they had looked over the Foys.
The two had M4s, similar to Eileen’s gun, a lighter caliber than his .308. They had the select fire switch and a half dozen magazines hung on their chest. They sported Kevlar helmets with short smoky visors and other serious gear but no insignia. Vic wondered if they were deserters, but he couldn’t see where any patches were ripped off. Given the state of things, he didn’t care. North America had deserted plenty of their own in California, leaving them in the lurch.
Alice finished her inspection first and gave her assessment.
“Damn, these guys are hardcore.”
That got a big smile and the leader said, “Takes one to know one.”
Alice just inclined her head to thank him but never took her eyes off them.
“If we don’t delay too long here, we can make Foster’s before sundown. Can you keep up?”
“We’re on bicycles and all loaded up ready to go. It would be pretty pathetic if we couldn’t.”
“Let’s do it then. I’m Mark, this is Ken. I rank. If anything happens to me, he’s a good one to listen to in a tactical situation.”
“My wife, Eileen, Alice, Tommy, Pearl,” he said pointing to each.
Mark didn’t demand details. Vic led them back out the front door to go around the house to the bikes. They didn’t need a tour of the house.
“That’s brand new!” Mark said when he looked over Vic’s bike.
“Pretty near. We had them flown in from Nevada this spring,” Vic said.
Mark nodded and you could see he was reassessing the Foys, rethinking a lot of assumptions, and considering new possibilities in his mind.
“You guys taking point?” Eileen asked.
Her tone was so commanding Vic thought Mark was going to salute.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mark nodded to Ken and he took off at a jog. They fell into a routine, the point jogging ahead and then slowing to a walk. The follower would jog to catch up and then the point would jog again when he was near caught up. It appeared they could keep that up all day. Vic was mighty glad they had bicycles.
* * *
Heather dismissed Amy for the evening to give them a little quiet and privacy. That lasted for a few minutes, and then all three of their pads chimed and the house com console made a racket, indicating a high priority message. Heather sent it right to the wall display not bothering to see what it was with all of them alerted.
Chen was waiting to talk to them, more excited than he usually displayed.
“The North Americans suddenly put a crew of four aboard their ship while it was on the opposite side of the Earth from us. In ten minutes they were gone,” he said with a sweeping gesture.
“Any idea of their target?” Jeff asked.
“It could be anywhere over such a huge arch we have no idea,” Chen said. “There wasn’t anything pointed off that direction. There wasn’t anything to turn and follow them. Certainly not our rented camera. It took some fine adjustments to get it pointed and focused on their orbital position. It isn’t made to track anything. If I can find the data anywhere and steal it I will.”
“Well, we knew this was going to happen,” Jeff said calmly. “I wish them the best of luck and a safe return. We don’t need any more dead astronauts.”
“You’re taking it rather well,” Chen said.
“We have competition now. I intend to stay ahead of them. When we meet an alien civilization, I’d rather it be us that makes contact first if we can. They should know some of us are sane before they meet our crazy relatives. The Hringhorni has been out three hundred light-years just recently. I think it will take them some time to catch up.”
Chen was interested in that. It was news that hadn’t filtered down to him yet.
“Did they find anything interesting?”
“A planet with plant life,” Heather said, “but the Hringhorni can’t land on a high g planet. We’ll go back with the Chariot. It may not be next week, which is what the crew wants I suspect. They are very encouraged.”
“It will be interesting how much the North Americans reveal when they come back,” April said. “If they tell us where they went, that would reveal a lot about the capacity of their new ship.”
“If they come back,” Chen said.
“They’ll try again if they don’t,” Jeff said. “Maybe not North America right away. This was a huge investment for them. But some Earthies will manage it eventually.
“Oh, also you should be aware I took some of the proceeds from the sale of Camelot and bought some real estate yesterday. I got the north polar cap of Mars just like Heather has the south.”
“Well, at least you have one good neighbor,” Chen said.
“I wonder if the Martians won’t fail as a colony without outside intervention?” Jeff said. “How can something so flawed keep going very long?”
“Look up the history of North Korea,” Chen suggested.
“I’m concerned the outside intervention will involve the Earthies demanding to send armed ships beyond L1 to fix that mess,” Heather said. “France knows about them now. There is some sort of weird problem to just about anybody now. I doubt the Earthies have the patience just to cut them off and let them fail.”
“Well we haven’t helped that,” Jeff admitted. “But I did make out like a bandit. They are still one future supply cycle from being in trouble.”
“Oh, crap…” April said suddenly.
Everybody, including Chen on the screen, looked a question at her.
“This new starship must have a lot more capacity to carry a bigger crew and heavier systems,” April said. “What do you want to bet that if this one isn’t armed, they’re eventually going to want to arm explorers going off into the unknown?”
“That would be a very difficult thing to verify,” Chen said. “Any sort of nukes they keep buried behind layers and layers of the best sort of security.”
“Maybe it would be better to buy some time by not bringing it up and making an issue of it unless they get blatant about it,” Heather said.
“I still want to know,” Jeff said. “I think I can make a small package,” he cupped both hands around an imaginary sphere. “If it is small enough not to occlude stars, black to light and radar absorbent, can fly by quite closely, and get a reading with passive sensors.”
“Just make sure you hold its manufacture just as tightly as the North Americans keep their nukes. You need plausible excuses for all the components and to severely limit how many people know about this or work on it, Chen suggested.
“That’s fine. We have one guy who can do it all,” Jeff told him. “Other than the four of us, he’ll be the only one I’ll read into this.”
Chen frowned at the phrase. “Have you been reading spy novels again?”
* * *
Ahead, Ken held up a hand for them to halt. There was a good ten-minute delay before they saw Mark come back to talk to him, turn around and go back to point. Ken came back to Eileen and Vic pulled forward to hear what he had to say.
“There’s a group of four ahead. Mark waved a white flag. There was a bit of a delay because they understood the message but had nothing white to wave until one of their guys took his shirt off and gave their point man his t-shirt to use. Then Mark went forward to parley. They are field hands on their way to work for a farmer. All armed but not as well as we are. They’ve agreed to pass strung out as we will also. Neither of us will bunch up to provide an easy target.”
It wasn’t stated as an option. Mark had already committed them and was in motion. Vic frankly couldn’t think of a better way to do it anyway. He just nodded he understood.
“You still go ahead,” he told Eileen when Ken turned away. “I’ll bring up the rear.”
The men passing looked pretty rough. They were the sort of thin build that was the new normal, and their hair and beards didn’t reflect care or skill in trimming. They each had a long gun but they were .22 rifles and one a shotgun carried broken open. One had shoes with wooden soles tied on the bottoms. Another had a pair of moccasins that were visibly hand made.
All of them carried a bag of personal possessions, though one had his rigged as a pack. They looked warily at the military weapons and obvious affluence of Foy’s group. Still, the danger was all to the richer group who had much more to lose if the others decided they could take it.
Vic, at the rear, kept a close watch behind him and didn’t relax until he was sure they weren’t being followed. His group maintained a pace he didn’t think the others could match to catch up. Vic was just grateful he hadn’t encountered them traveling alone.

Chapter 20
“Well, that didn’t take long. The Sandman with a reduced crew has departed Earth orbit to Mars.” Heather read from a news release. Chen informed her of the same.
“They were already past the optimum launch window,” Jeff said. “Every day of delay would mean a longer transit. They probably reduced the crew to stretch their food and environmental capacity.”
“And maybe to let them send back the last few scientists we didn’t move,” April said.
“It’s not making sense to me,” Jeff said. “This would indicate they were already loaded up and all they needed was to fuel them and transfer crew. There hasn’t been time to lift supplies to orbit since I paid them.”
“They must have had everything already delivered and imposed a hold when the money went away and they weren’t going to get paid,” April said.
“They didn’t demand full payment before delivery? From the Martians? Didn’t they know who they were dealing with?” Jeff asked. “How foolish.”
“The Earth economy runs on credit,” Heather reminded him. “Somebody had some serious pull to get that hold imposed. You put up with thirty days net, stretching that for your big customers to ninety days net without complaining, and hoping it doesn’t turn into forever, or you won’t have any customers pretty soon.”
When Jeff made a face, April said: “That’s why they think you are such a hard guy.”
“Because I expect to get paid?” Jeff asked, incredulous.
“Yep, filthy Capitalist, Spacer and a meanie. It’s a wonder they will talk to you at all.”
* * *
Ted Foster’s place was in a loose cluster of homes near a crossroads and a couple of businesses that were closed with no outside supply, but weren’t burned out and abandoned. The windows however were bricked or boarded up. Vic wondered what they were used for and if it made them a target for raiders. The roads crossed just this side of a concrete bridge over a decent stream. Ted’s house was across the bridge on the east side. It was clear all around and looked defensible.
Ted’s house was obvious. It was the one partway up the side of a big hill, with all the antennas. Another house upstream had horses and a guard shack on the uphill side overlooking the fenced pasture. Vic wondered if they were Arlo’s clients.
Vic and Eileen got off to walk the bikes up the steep driveway, and Mark and Ken came over unasked and pushed on their seats from the other side to help them up the grade.
“I’m tired,” Vic admitted. “I know I have a few years on you but I don’t know how you fellows kept up that pace all day long.”
Mark looked surprised. “We’re on stim. Anybody in the service could tell right away from our eyes and how we move. When we were never rescued or recalled we carried away as much as we could, including every bit of ammo and stim we could get our hands on. The bulk of it is still buried back a couple of days travel to the west.
“We’re going to layover here and get a full night’s rest before moving on. It may even be too hard to sleep tonight if the boost lingers. If we need to sleep in tomorrow, we can stay an extra day. We’ve been moving two days on this stuff and starting to come down. Didn’t you notice we were slowing down the last couple hours?”
“Not so I could notice,” Vic admitted. “Why the big push to hurry?”
“It’s still dangerous to the west. Worse the closer you get to the coast. The ocean provides transportation and the roads are north-south. We traveled at night on old hiking trails, forestry roads, and power line right of ways. Once we got to where we weren’t scared of the roads we boosted up and came as fast as we could. There’s all kinds of gangs, bandits, and unidentified recon moving around. People like we passed on the way here aren’t a concern. You people have a reputation, you know.”
“No, I don’t know, what do you mean?”
“The small-town militias on the coast said anybody that went west into the hills never came back. The old vets said they saw the same thing in the Trans Arabic Protectorate. Nobody wanted to go up in the hills and pry out the tribesmen. They laughed and said it must be something in mountain water. About four days at a normal walk west of here when we decided to try the road, we came down a power line and started along a county road. The map said there was a little town ahead and when we got where the road followed a stream there were five skulls posted on pike shafts with a sign that identified them as raiders. We went back and took the long way around.”
They came to the house, and walked the bikes around to the backside away from the road, and started unhooking the trailers.
“They might have talked to you, might not,” Vic acknowledged. “Last year we went to our festival and the folks who sell us salt left right after. We went home a day late and some damn fools tried to ambush the salt merchants. The next day we found their heads on a stick like that along the road as a warning, ‘cept they were fresh. It upset my wife.”
“She carries that gun like she knows how to use it,” Mark said, implying he didn’t think she’d be overly sensitive.
“She does. She’s shot a man dead before. For that matter, so has that little girl who walked in behind you at our house. But my wife is too genteel to hack off your head to post. The little girl, I’m not so sure it would bother her much.”
“She scared the shit out of me,” Mark admitted. “She moves far too quietly.”
“She’s not kin, but she lives with us. Consider her emancipated. You ask Arlo about her and he’ll tell you stories. He knows her right well.”
Ted Foster came out and suggested they take the bikes in the barn. It wasn’t a farmer’s barn. It looked more like the sort of garage a long-distance trucker might have to keep his rig at home.
“Leave the tubing in your trailer and it’ll make it easier to take down the hill to my shop in the morning,” he suggested.
“The bricked-up building that looks like some kind of store?” Vic asked.
“Yes. It used to be a rock shop until the tourist trade dried up, and then it was an insurance agency. The building is company owned and the local agent was in LA on The Day and I’m occupying it. I intend to declare adverse possession in another three years. It’s my shop now and the community knows that.”
“Works for me,” Vic said at Ted’s inquiring gaze. “Are you prepared to pay back tax on it if a county government is restored?”
“Yep, I have that covered,” Ted assured him. “There’s a water tank with a spigot inside the garage door if you want to wash up. On a shelf are wash rags and a towel hanging if you want to do your face. I’m out of soup at the moment. We’ll have some supper before it gets too dark. I was waiting for you all to get here.”
“Thank you. Is the water safe to drink?” Vic asked.
“There’s a cup on a nail, but the water isn’t boiled. There’s nobody dumping stuff in the river upstream. We saw to that. Or you can wait and boil some on my grill if you are worried it may have some different germs your gut isn’t used to. I can fetch a big pot so you have enough for tomorrow and to refill your bottles. Folks here, drinking it all the time, don’t get sick, but you take your chances.”
“I’ll take that pot. If we get the runs going back home, will make it extra hard. We’ve had water most of the way so I can wait.”
“Sensible,” Ted declared, not taking offense. “I have a fire started. I’ll go add wood.”
* * *
“That’s for me. I have a package,” Jeff said when the corridor door alarm chimed. He went to accept it from the courier and returned with a foam board box with a strap and carry handle.
“This is six bottles of my latest batch of whiskey. I’m hoping it’s good enough to sell in the clubs neat or over ice. Last year’s batch the Fox and Hare and the Quiet Retreat bought but they would only use it for mix or sell it carry-out. That batch didn’t hold much promise of improving with age, but your cabbage mine techs all tell me this is better. We’ll see. I suspect they would praise just about anything. I may send a bottle down to that fellow I had visit to advise me a while back. He has some serious expertise and credentials, but wasn’t interested in living here at all. Even if Detwiler gives this batch his seal of approval, I’d like to know what the Earthie thinks.”
“He knows Earth whiskey of course,” Heather pointed out. “Are you trying to compete with them?”
“Not directly. The expert was clear that I would never exactly copy any Earth whiskey, but he indicated it had the potential to be good with its own distinct character. He wasn’t holding forth a lot of hope for great, but I’ll accomplish what I can. I don’t have centuries of distilling experience. Maybe I can learn though. It’s kind of a challenge because it’s nothing you can reduce to a formula. There are too many variables.”
“Crack one open for us,” April requested. “We’re not experts and I’m not a big drinker, but we’ll give you our opinions.”
“I have two extra. We can do that. Keep it to finish it off,” he told Heather.
“Well, what do you think?” he demanded after they sipped it over ice.
“This stuff all tastes the same to me,” Heather admitted.
He looked at April.
“Sorry, it still needs some Coke for me. But even the best of it does.”
“Oh well, the second one always tastes better,” Jeff said.
* * *
“You do realize when I go home, they are going to debrief me in detail and probably with a half dozen different interrogators asking the same questions in a different order while they monitor all my responses?” Nick asked Diana. “They can’t make me, but they will probably ask me to wear a cap. They will want to know every foreign person I had contact with and exactly what we spoke about and our relationship.”
“Well, I’m a Hawaiian citizen, resident, and property owner. Unless they want to fess up to ugly racial prejudice, they shouldn’t hold me against you. Jeff and April are awkward people to speak against since they need their continued goodwill. Besides, I’d be surprised if some of those interrogators aren’t Haole themselves.”
“Yes, but there are layers. It’s always somebody else who is a problem and prejudice always something the other person does. For one’s self, it is always discernment.”
“You mean like Homies versus Earthies?” Diana asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe after I meet a few more people and see if that attitude exists. I haven’t seen it but I’ve met what, a half-dozen people?” Nick said.
“Why do they need Jeff’s goodwill?” Nick asked after he thought about it a little.
“It seems to me Hawaii revolted when North America is in the economic crapper and fighting Texas. Sort of like how America revolted against England when they had a lot of troubles keeping them busy elsewhere,” Diana said, pointedly.
“And when they have all those problems sorted?” Nick asked.
“Exactly. You better have Home and a few other entities ready to say, “Hey, wait a minute. We are trading with these people and have an interest in them now, when they might consider leaning on you again.”
“Then you should continue to show me a broader sampling of Home so it doesn’t look like I was sequestered and managed to keep me from getting an accurate picture.”
“OK, you’ve been to the old cafeteria and the Quiet Retreat. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the Fox and Hare and invite some people for you to meet. Then the next day we can dine at the alternate cafeteria where all the contract workers and rowdy beam dogs eat. You need to visit at least one of the dark clubs they favor, that keep their existence quiet too.”
“There’s a dark underbelly to Home society?” Nick asked feigning shock.
“There a dark underbelly to humanity. I can’t believe a successful, surviving revolutionary doesn’t know that,” Diana said. That shut him up.
* * *
Public Announcements: USNA Space Force
The Space Force, in conjunction with private contractors and allies, has conducted a successful round-trip voyage to an interstellar objective evaluating new hardware capacities and furthering our defensive capabilities.
The vessel Constitution is the first star capable USNA spaceship.
While operational security limits the sharing of detailed information at this early date, the achievement will open new opportunities for scientific and commercial partners once the testing of our technology advances beyond these initial steps.
The identities of the crew members and destination will remain classified until a date to be determined. However, rest assured the crew have been appropriately awarded mission citations and will be able to display such awards when rotated to other duties even if the mission details remain classified.
“Well that tells us exactly zip,” Jeff complained when Chen relayed that report.
“We can make some very sound assumptions,” Chen said. “Given the USNA obsession with their public image they don’t want a public failure. I’d bet anything this ship went out with a two-man crew and minimum load-out on everything but fuel. They will add mass and crew above the stripped-down version progressively. If it hadn’t made it back at all, there would have been no public announcement either. They are effectively at war, if not declared, so it’s not surprising they are secretive. It’s basic operational security.”
“With us or the Texans?” Chen asked.
“I was thinking of Texas, because that is ongoing and can turn hot any moment, but maybe I should have been thinking of us. They might be silly enough to think this makes them something of a peer to us. They may test us,” Jeff speculated.
“I’m not sure I understand what you are thinking,” Chen admitted.
“They may deploy sufficient sensors to determine where one of our ships goes and attempt to follow it to determine our capabilities. They know we are star capable even if there is no public acknowledgment of it, but I’d rather they not know how capable. I’m thinking that perhaps we should not use any gravity-assisted dragging maneuvers where they can be observed. That seems to be something valuable to retain hidden, to spring on them if it is needed. Especially if any of our crews find themselves shadowed or threatened in a distant system.”
“From what you told me it would be forgoing considerable income opportunity to hide that and not use it,” Chen said. “Given the difference in performance, I’d think it more likely you will follow them and spy on their activities at a distant star.”
Jeff had a sudden transformation, eyes widening and nostrils flaring. He wasn’t any good at hiding his smallest thoughts much less the big ones.
Chen said nothing. He just looked worried. He could hide his thoughts but he wanted Jeff to see his concern without voicing it, so he’d volunteer his thought.
“It occurred to me that if they leave the ship parked at the same orbital facility, we can keep track and know when it is occupied and when it is just parked in orbit empty. They probably keep some separation for safety's sake. I don’t think we have sufficient jump accuracy today, but I can see us getting to the point we could position two ships several light seconds away, jump in simultaneously and have the computers set to verify each other’s position and jump back out in a millisecond. Their ship would just vanish in much less than the blink of an eye and we could dissect it piece by piece.”
Chen was horrified. “If we were in an active war with North America, I could endorse that. Remember your reaction to Eddie's Rascal being snatched from ISSII. Even if It hadn’t been with loss of life, you’d have still destroyed her for the secrets. Am I right?”
“Oh absolutely. They were both unforgivable but separate events,” Jeff agreed.
“They would feel the same. It would be an act of piracy or war. If we weren’t in an active war with North America that should precipitate it. I can’t imagine that they don’t have a high-speed camera watching it with remote archiving. They will see the snatching ships even in a millisecond. Even if that was somehow foolishly absent or failed, who else could they realistically blame?”
“Of course you are right about all of that,” Jeff said and dismissed it with a wave. “But if we do get in a hot war with them again it’s worth considering the possibility. I’m definitely going to write the software to allow us to do that and integrate it with the other navigational programs. Now that I think about it, you don’t have to do it in one long range accurate jump.
“We can let the computer do a series of decreasing jumps, until we are close enough to precisely bracket the target. The computer and data files we might get would be worth as much as the drive and weapons intelligence. The only problem I see is if we are involved in active hostilities, they may have someone bright enough to rig her so she blows up if moved without authorization.”
Jeff bunched his eyebrows together pursuing another thought. “It might even be possible to do an in-flight snatch of it.”
“Or one of the first things they might do at the start of hostilities would be to set a constant guard aboard her,” Chen warned.
“Good thought,” Jeff agreed. “My first impulse would be to automate it, but not everybody thinks like that.”
Chen refrained from saying nobody else he knew thought like Jeff, and sometimes it scared the snot out of him. Anybody else might issue a series of disclaimers and let you know their outrageous thought wasn’t a blueprint for immediate action before diving in to paint such a terrifying proposal. When he ended his call with Jeff he had to go sit and calm himself before he could trust his judgment to work on something else. That was despite the fact he liked Jeff. He could imagine how it would sound to somebody who already thought him a monster.
* * *
“Our agent can’t get video of the ship leaving,” the Pacific coordinator told the head of North American Intelligence. “The Hawaiians gathered all the data from cameras and other sensors and have restricted it to about a half dozen people. They are disturbingly competent for such a new organization. The accounts in the report are of eyewitnesses to the aftermath and repair crews. Our man has already displayed too much interest.
“The surface combatant Yukon on patrol south-west of Hawaii reported a radar return of a cluster of three objects appearing at a hundred kilometers altitude at a substantially suborbital velocity. It set off alarms because it approximated the profile for a multiple warhead reentry cluster, despite having no approach track. It didn’t fit any hypersonic flight profile. One object disappeared within a couple of minutes and one degraded very quickly and appeared to disintegrate while falling. The last object fell fast enough to display an ionization halo like a reentry vehicle, but didn’t maneuver. It ended its fall almost vertically and was assumed to impact the water beyond the radar horizon.”
“The ship, the car front end, and the hunk of concrete,” the head man said.
“That’s how I read it,” his subordinate agreed.
“That makes my head hurt to try to rationalize it,” his boss said.
“Indeed, it raises more questions than it answers.”
* * *
The next morning, after breakfast, Vic and Eileen got a tour of the shop building.
“This is nice, but why do you have all these machines that take power still in place? I can understand you’d grease them up and cover them, but I’d jam them all in a corner and clear the floor space to use,” Victor suggested. “It may be decades before there is power again.”
“This fall, when the stream is at its lowest flow,” Ted said, “we are going to start building a dam about three hundred meters upstream of the horse farm. Nobody is objecting and there isn’t anybody on the other side who would be flooded. The road cuts away from the stream past there and there are no buildings. We’re going to clear the trees where it will flood and cut the stumps as flush as we can too. That will be as much work as the dam itself. In three years, maybe four, we hope to have a dam with a powerhouse just below it. The output will use the poles and wires already following the road. We need three poles and wires we’ll take from above the dam to bring it across the stream here to the shop.”
“And a nice trout pond, above it,” Vic said.
“Yes, that’s a bonus. Deep enough for them to survive the worst winters we have here and high enough to run water down here for our use too. We will shut down and keep the level up to a certain minimum when the flow falls off.”
“So are you going to tell me what you want the aluminum poles for or is it a secret?” Vic asked. If Ted didn’t share his secret Vic wasn’t going to share his.
“We intend to make a batch of single-shot break-open grenade launchers for Arlo and his deputies, or whatever they end up calling them. They’ll be the barrels. We’ll make a dozen of them from your poles, standardized. If you know of any more traffic flashers, we’d help you collect them. We of course will owe you favors in return,” Ted promised.
“Seems to me the hard part is not the launcher, but making the ammunition,” Vic said.
“I was fortunate to acquire a large number of drivers for powder actuated tools,” Ted said. “The little charges that look like a .22 blank, used to drive studs in concrete.” He pulled a drawer open in a toolbox and showed Vic one. “Those will be our impact fuzes.”
“And open a couple hundred for the main charge?” Vic asked.
“No, we moved very quickly after The Day to secure all the explosives from a mining site north of here. That is now cached in multiple locations in the deep woods.”
“You’re concerned we’ll be invaded,” Vic guessed.
“Eventually. I don’t know who, but there is too much of a power vacuum here. Somebody to the west may set himself up as a warlord. The North Americans may reassert themselves, or the Texans or Mexicans may show up. I expect whoever turns up looking to control the area isn’t going to try to promote local rule. They’ll need to be persuaded to include and listen to the locals.”
“The boys who escorted me here said we already have a reputation on the coast,” Vic said.
“I intend to enhance that,” Ted said, with an evil smile. “I know Mr. Mast intends to form a county government again. And it will be locals. I totally support that.”
“So do I,” Vic agreed. “But he hasn’t even told me who he has been trying to recruit.”
“I think it will be another year before he calls all his people to a meeting. Going too public too early could start others trying to organize early to counter him and suck people away. I only mentioned it because I was pretty sure you were working with him already.”
“You’re right. A business relationship for now. People see to their business interests so it all goes together, doesn’t it?” Vic asked.
Ted agreed with a nod. “And what can I do for you in payment for the poles?”
He trusted Vic, so Vic decided to return the favor.
“I don’t want it talked around, any more than you do your business, but we’ve been panning a little gold. Enough to make our rings,” Vic said, taking his off and passing it over.
“I’d like to be able to melt and maybe cast it. I have the road signal solar cells to work with, but no storage batteries or any way to run a furnace. I thought maybe you could tell me how.”
“How did you make this if you didn’t cast it?” Ted asked.
“I made a mold in a piece of steel, but I sintered it with a punch from gold dust and flakes. If you heat it and drive it together a few more times it gets to where you can burnish it and it looks solid. But it’s slow and way too much work. I’d hate to try to make a bar that way.”
Ted looked amazed. “More a die than a mold, but congratulations, you re-invented the way pre-Colombians made gold objects. I’m going to melt aluminum to cast using charcoal, but I can’t get a hot enough fire that way to melt your gold.”
“Oh, you have no way to melt gold?” Vic asked disappointed.
“Not a huge crucible of it like aluminum, but maybe enough for you. You have the solar panels, hopefully, you can get some more for both of us. Panels for you and some more poles for me. If you have enough amperage you can use it several ways to weld or heat stuff with graphite rods. I’ll write out some ideas for you.”
“Where am I going to get graphite rod?” Vic scoffed.
“You’ve been mining your trash,” Ted said. “Have you found any old used up flashlight batteries?”
“A ton of them,” Vic said.
“Well, every one of them has a graphite rod running down the middle,” Ted informed him.
“Why do you look so disgusted?” he had to ask Vic.
“Because we’ve been setting aside any jar, and we made piles of metal and anything else we imagined we might use, but we shoveled everything else down the gulch behind us as we went along picking through it. We’ll have to dig it all back up to get the batteries now.”
* * *
Nathan DeWalt arrived at Home with a very expensive Australian passport. He’d been warned it would work just about anywhere but using it to enter Australia itself might be a little dicey. He had entered Tahiti with his genuine European passport, which turned out to be a serious mistake. He bought a passenger ferry ticket to Moorea with one of his old personal credit cards, then paid cash to ride a cargo boat to Huahine. He laid low for a few days on that quiet island.
He’d used the Australian identity to go to Raiatea, where they made a local industry of running a cheaper low volume spaceport off their summit to compete with Tahiti. He arrived an hour before departure to the Turnip, so he figured if anybody made his identity it would be too late. He’d be gone beyond any recall.
He’d been told Home would not ask for a passport or any other document. So the pricey document was just an expensive keepsake he might use as an illustration if he ever wrote a book about his experience. It was the sort of a thing that was a horror to live through, but an adventure to somebody with a sane stable life who wanted to experience it vicariously. He was free to be Nathan DeWalt again if he wanted. But after he touched the reader pad as instructed, the nice lady asked his name, and he stood there thinking about it.
“I can void it and let you stand to the side and think about it if you wish,” she said kindly. “We’ve had people register as every historical figure or fictional character you could imagine, including Donald Duck. Just let the others finish entering if you would.”
“That’s OK. Enter me as Nathan Walters,’ he requested. That wouldn’t make it dead easy to track him but wasn’t so different that he’d have a hard time adjusting to it. He wouldn’t sit oblivious, waiting for a table in a restaurant while the greeter shouted some stranger’s name.
“Welcome to Home, Mr. Walters. There are signs and directions the other side of the bearing to assist you,” she said pointing through the round opening, “If you search Home Help on the local net you can get advice dealing with the differing acceleration felt on each level, how things are laid out, and where to find food and accommodations.”
Nathan nodded his thanks, used the line rigged for the inexperienced in zero g, and examined the YOU ARE HERE map. First, he needed a bank.

Chapter 21
“Now there’s a twitchy little character,” Nick said quietly to Diana as they passed Nathan newly named Walters coming out of the elevators. “I’m glad he got off my shuttle. He made my internal alarms all beep.”
“You are still paranoid from being a revolutionary,” Diana accused. “You can’t go buy groceries without thinking somebody is following you through the store.”
“That’s not true of all revolutionaries. Just the surviving, successful ones.”
“I was thinking. They killed Floyd. I’ll probably get a bill for disposing of the rear three-quarters of him. You have never shown any interest in having a car. If you want to buy something in my name go ahead. I’ll send you authorization and you can use it until I return and save me the trouble of shopping for one.”
“I’m scared I’ll buy something you hate,” Nick said.
“Just get something light colored and not too flashy to attract trouble. If it’s a little bigger than Floyd that’s fine. We were having to get pretty creative packing him when we both grocery shopped at the same time,” Diana reminded him.
“OK, I will,” Nick agreed. “If you hate it, I’ll buy it from you. It looks bad for an important government functionary not to own a vehicle.”
“Anywhere else you’d be saying you needed a car and a driver,” Diana said.
“I expect the revolutionary zeal and disgust with excessive privilege to last a little longer. I don’t want to be among the first to discard it.”
“Then be sure to tell all your friends it’s borrowed,” Diana advised him.
“When do you think you’ll be down? I’ll miss you.”
“I’m going to work with the brat on another lotto game and I have some other business in mind. Don’t start getting possessive, we’re not joined at the hip.”
To soften that warning she gave him a warm and lingering kiss before he went through the bearing to the mast proper. He stiffened a little at first when she did that and when they pulled apart, she gave him a questioning look.
“I’m still not used to being able to do that,” Nick admitted. “Most of my adult life you could be fined for public displays of affection under North American law. I still get a reaction to seeing men in public in short sleeves and other things. It’s hard to drop the conditioning to what was normal growing up.”
“Up here, if you drag it out too long people will start applauding,” Diana quipped.
“It has been interesting,” Nick said, and seemed like he’d say more but didn’t.
“But too much to absorb?” Diana asked.
Nick nodded. “I thought I was ready to reject everything about North America when we kicked them out. But you guys did exactly that and it’s kind of scary.”
“Well not me,” Diana said. “I’m a newcomer. But April and her people, yeah. You need to go aboard before they slam the hatch in your face.”
Nick's eyes flicked one way and then the other, checking the time in the new spex he wasn’t used to yet. “Eight minutes, but you’re right. Thanks again,” he said and hurried.
Diana watched him go, amused. It was fun looking thirty again, and attractive to somebody of that age, but important government official or no, Nick lacked the maturity she’d come to expect from someone she could be serious about. The question she had been wondering the last few days was if she’d still feel the same when they were both twenty years older. The difference kept getting smaller compared to their ages. How small would it have to be to not matter at all?
* * *
“I need to run back to Home today,” April told her partners.
“I want to go talk to the Yangs, and need to visit a couple of prototype shops,” Jeff said. “Expect me along in a couple of days.”
“Take Barak along, would you?” Heather asked. “He said he was going tomorrow but if you’re piloting solo it’s cheaper and faster for him.”
“Yeah, I have an empty seat. I’ll text him right now,” April said, grabbing her pad. “I can wait an hour or two if he needs me to. I don’t have any rush medical or perishables.”
“Did you check UPS and Larkin’s for standby packages?” Jeff asked
“Of course. Nothing today and Barak just replied to my text that he’d meet me at the ship. Love you guys, bye.”
It took two changes of elevators to get to the surface, but April had a priority pass. That was one of the few real privileges of being a peer. Only medical or security could override her express lift to the surface. The dour faced fellow already on the last elevator with a roll-along toolbox and suit carrier riding on top cheered up and said it was his lucky day when she keyed her pad at the controls and the three green stops on the screen went to amber.
Barak seemed in an unusually jovial mood when they boarded, cracking jokes and energized about something. It amused April.
“What would you like to do? Maybe go to one of the clubs tonight?” Barak asked.
The presumption her evening was his and they had a date caught April off guard. Suddenly she understood Barak thought it was his lucky day just like the grouchy workman on the elevator. The last time he was her house guest at Home, Jeff and he had just returned from a failed mission together. They took him to a club dancing with them, and he dumped his hosts there, going off to a dark club with a lovely beam dog.
If he’d forgotten that she hadn’t, and he should have realized that closed some doors to him. She was about ready to tell him off when she remembered she hadn’t told him she knew he was lifting to Home the next day or that his sister Heather asked her to give him a lift. Suddenly it didn’t seem so presumptuous and she had to blame herself at least a little bit. That just meant she’d be gentler.
“Heather said to give you a lift, but I’m way too busy with work to entertain you. I sort of assumed you were taking some R&R when you came tomorrow, but you are welcome to go to the Fox and Hare as my guest, just tell Detweiler. Or, I understand there are plenty of dark clubs more exciting than the Fox and Hare or the Quiet Retreat. You should be able to start your vacation a day early without any trouble,” April advised him.
The sudden kicked puppy-dog expression said it all. April’s mentioning dark clubs clicked with him. He suddenly understood that dumping April and Jeff mid-evening to go off with a dance floor acquaintance had changed their relationship.
April knew he wasn’t terribly mature, but he’d been their guest. Treating their hospitality so indifferently was inexcusable.
“Ohhh… that’s too bad,” Barak said. “But you live there all the time and can enjoy the clubs and handball courts and stuff anytime you can get away for a few hours.”
“Central will catch up,” April said. “But I’m not ready to live there full time.”
The rest of the flight was pretty quiet. Barak found a book to read on his pad.
* * *
For the first time in a very long time, Irwin thought maybe he was getting robbed. The fellow standing at the door was an obvious Earthie. He was so nervous that twitchy was an honest description. He looked through the glass doors, hand on the pull bar, his eyebrows scrunched together scowling about something. He also had on a gun-belt with leather so shiny and clean it had to be the first time he was wearing it. It probably squeaked. And the gun holstered on it looked all out of proportion to him. Irwin wondered if he needed both hands just to hold it up, never mind the recoil.
The fellow looked up and down the corridor both ways and finally made up his mind to come in. It would be insanity to rob the bank. There was nowhere one might reasonably make a get-away. One could hardly rob the bank and go buy a shuttle ticket. And people who owned space ships didn’t need to rob banks. But as Irwin was starting to notice, logic and reasonableness had little to do with people’s actions. “Watch this one,” Irwin sent with his spex to his assistant. Just in case.
“This is the Private Bank? I mean, not just the offices, but where you do business?”
“It certainly is,” Irwin assured him. It was hard not to point out the gold letters beside the doors testifying to that. “How may we help you?”
The fellow gave the whole office another once over before he looked back at Irwin.
“Sorry, I’m just used to a different… format, such as a stand-up desk and teller windows. I wasn’t sure this wasn’t just corporate offices. May I open an account here?”
“Of course,” Irwin said touching his screen to that program. “I’m Irwin Hall. Under what name would you like the account?”
“Nathan Walters. That’s the name with which I entered Home if you link your databases. I want to make deposits from Earth accounts in several jurisdictions, but they are all password and number accounts. I’d be happy to continue using an anonymous account if you offer that. I’ve been targeted by elements on Earth that threaten to do me harm.”
“We can do that, but if you are concerned about your physical security, it limits some of our services. For example, if there are agencies hostile to you who have your genome, I’d hesitate to use a taster card to access your accounts. Even with no name on its face, the card does contain your genetic profile in some detail to verify it is you holding it.
“In particular, if you intend to visit Earth, I wouldn’t take such a card with me. It gives you access to the full value of your account, but you could be coerced to use it to strip your accounts or the data could theoretically be cracked in the event of your arrest to confirm your identity.”
“What would you suggest?” Nathan asked.
“We can create two accounts. The main one you would have a taster card if you feel you can keep it safe, or you can come in here to transfer funds in lesser amounts to an everyday card you can use at less risk.
“I’m hoping never to go down to Earth again,” Nathan said with some feeling, “so I don’t think I’ll require that, but your flexibility is appreciated.”
“What sort of funds do you wish to deposit then?” Irwin asked.
“I was able to specify most of these funds be held as Australian dollars. There were some fees to do that but well worth getting out of depreciating euromarks. There is one account in rubles. Can you work with those?”
“Yes, Australian dollars are fairly stable. If I may suggest, I’d have them converted to solars whenever our other depositors need to buy them to do business with Earth. For the rubles, I’d ask the other Spacer bank on Home convert to Australian dollars as the opportunity presents itself. The System Trade Bank has better connections with a non-government entity in the Russian Republic than we have. I can arrange that.
“If you need funds immediately, I can advance some funds today so you have living expenses on the card. We are currently charging four percent for secured funds, for which your Earth accounts would be collateral. The currency conversions would be applied to the advance as they come in.”
“I have a bit more than thirty thousand Australian. I’m not sure how long that will last me on Home. How much are you prepared to advance me?” Nathan asked.
“That depends on the total of your accounts we are transferring of course,” Irwin said. “Do you have an approximation of their sum?”
“They should be a little less than a billion and a half Australian dollars.”
“Thirty thousand Australian should support you for a week if you get a lower tier hotel room in-spin. The two establishments on the newer half g level are cheaper. And you should buy a cafeteria card. They will take Australian dollars or yen, and I believe it is still around four thousand dollars a month. The food is quite good and subsidized by Mitsubishi. If you can find a private apartment floor share, don’t mind sleeping in hot slots, or are willing to take a room in zero g housing off Home proper, you could stretch that to three or four weeks. I’d offer you a ten solar advance, which is a quarter kilo, and currency conversions should cover that in the next two or three days.
Nathan was waiting for some reaction to the amount he was proposing to deposit but there wasn’t any, not so much as a blink. He wondered if a floor share was what it sounded like and why the non-government entity in Russia was not a bank. He decided to let those go for right now.
“That sounds good to me,” Nathan agreed.
“I can beam that agreement to your pad, voice signed, or a hard copy print out signed or both,” Irwin offered.
“Both please,” Nathan said because he wanted to see how it was done.
“Touch the white pad to confirm your identity,” Irwin requested.
“I, Irwin Hall bind myself to this agreement with Nathan Walters,” Irwin said. “Hold your pad near my screen like a cash transfer and it will auto load the file,” Irwin instructed. “Computer, print a hard copy too, please.”
“You say please to a computer?” Nathan asked, amused.
Irwin shrugged. “An eccentricity.”
Irwin reached somewhere on the back of the desk and produced the document.
“You should get a hanko when you get a chance,” Irwin said, holding up his own. “It’s considered good form and more binding on Home than just a wet ink signature.” He pressed and tilted the end of the device firmly on the contract so it printed and embossed an image. He reached in his desk again and produced a card. Irwin carefully pulled a tab to peel a film back and offered the card to Nathan with the taste square exposed.
Take it from me, while firmly pressing your thumb on the pad,” Irwin instructed.
Nathan looked the face of it over. It was blank as he requested.
“How do I check my balance?” he asked.
“Touch it to any terminal and instruct it. You can tell it to do the transaction shown, ask for the account number, the balance, or tell it to deactivate,” Irwin said.
Nathan held it up corner touching the screen and tested the number and balance to his satisfaction.
“Shall we get some of the larger transfers started right now?” Irwin prompted him.
“Oh, of course.” Thirty minutes saw the four largest done using his card, and authenticated, sufficient for Irwin to feel safe to advance the full loan to his card.
“You might do the smaller ones yourself, or if you need help why don’t you stop back tomorrow?” Irwin suggested.
“Good idea, but here’s the access code for the Russian account. I’d like your associate bank to handle that. They’re difficult. They don’t have an English site,” Nathan said.
Irwin wondered how he managed before, but didn’t ask. “Your trust to handle the matter to your advantage is appreciated. It has been a pleasure to do business with you,” Irwin said. “You asked about data sharing. The bank does not share any customer data or identity information with Home. There is simply no Home law on the matter of banks. There are no corporations at this time on Home either.
“One thing I might suggest. If you have not made a will, you may wish to designate an heir to the accounts. In the event of your demise that isn’t a bad idea. There is no probate court and accounts don’t revert to the state. If you don’t express a preference it amounts to a gift to us.”
‘I have no close relatives. If I designate the bank as heir can I get a better loan rate?”
Irwin thought about that. “I see that is too troublesome a conflict of interest. Surely there is somebody who has done you a good turn, or a charity?” Irwin asked.
“Yes,” Nathan, said smiling for the first time. “If something happens to me please give my account balances to Heather Anderson, Queen of the Moon.”
That finally gave Nathan the pleasure of seeing Irwin surprised.
* * *
Hawaii didn’t have regularly scheduled shuttle traffic yet. North America in leaving their military bases took their shuttles along with everything else that wasn’t bolted down, bulldozed utility poles, hangers, and small buildings, poured concrete in the toilets and sewer lines, started vehicles with the oil drain plugs removed, and generally left their properties more expensive to reclaim than bare land.
The civilian airports faired a little better, but only in the superficial things that wouldn’t look vindictive to the public. The control towers and navigational systems were stripped or trashed. Honolulu was still the only airport brought back up to international standards with equipment bought with very scarce funds. Neither did any Hawaiian company own a shuttle. Despite their struggling economy North America was pressuring trading partners to cut off Hawaii and refuse to establish air links with them.
Nick returned through Australia, who refused to boycott Hawaii, taking a subsonic home because it was much cheaper. He was fortunate Hawaii had a businessman acting as a part-time consul, one of very few in the world so far. He was surprised at the ease with which he was given a temporary passport and boarding documents.
The man listened intently to his story of how he came to leave Hawaii without planning it. He didn’t express any surprise where Nick thought any normal person would. That led him to believe either the man didn’t believe a word of it, had already heard the story, or this was his first unofficial debrief from Hawaiian Intelligence. The consul might very well have been recording it all and Intelligence would be busy analyzing it before he boarded the plane home.
As expected, he was met coming off the plane. What he didn’t expect was Agent Meijer courteously asking him if he’d give them an interview. The agent even offered to come to his home tomorrow after he had a chance to rest from traveling.
“You must have an office nearby or can borrow a conference room. Why don’t we do it now? My neighbor’s car was destroyed when we left and I’m not hiring a car for the long drive home. I’m going to stay in the city tonight and buy a car in the morning to drive back up the ridge home.”
“You’re aware the car was destroyed?” Meijer asked. He appeared to be surprised.
“It’s part of the story, and if you want it in any detail it’s going to take some time. Do you have access to somewhere with a couple of comfortable chairs, a bathroom, and a coffee machine?” Nick asked.
Sometimes a subject was just too cooperative. Meijer wasn’t going to get a chance to bug Nick’s house, and he didn’t trust what other agencies might have the conference rooms in the international airport bugged. He’d been told not to haul the man into their headquarters and sweat him. Their secure rooms there were deliberately designed to be uncomfortable, unfriendly, and intimidating.
“We’ll probably be talking through dinner then,” Meijer said. “It seems to me Hawaii will owe us a meal if we work late on official business, Mr. Minister. What do you say we go to Porto’s Brazilian Steak House, get a comfortable booth, and get to work? When we both get hungry, we can take a break and efficiently order right where we are working.”
“I like how you think. Also, the Holiday Inn is on the very next block. I’ll call and reserve a room for myself,” Nick said.
* * *
It was early first shift when Jeff got back to Home. He was off schedule and wanted to nap, but now was the ideal time to see Phillip Detweiler and maybe the fellow Hussein from the Quiet Retreat. He called ahead and asked if Detweiler could spare him a few moments to talk and try some of his latest whiskey? He suggested Hussein would be welcome if Phillip wanted to invite him. He never felt he had a rapport with the man. Then, there was the fact that April had an interest in the Fox and Hare, so he favored it over the Quiet Retreat.
When he arrived at the Fox and Hare, Detweiler was sitting at the bar visible from the entry and waved him over. Hussein was there for which he was grateful. A few of the dark clubs ordered the vodka Heather made, and he supposed they’d buy his whiskey if it was good enough, but he found them kind of creepy and didn’t want to be too closely associated with them. On the other hand, he’d take any association with the two public and open clubs on Home as a positive. Jeff sat his bottle carrier on the bar and climbed on a stool.
“You look a bit rough,” Detweiler said. More concerned than unkind.
“I’m straight from the dock and the shuttle left at an ungodly hour. I’ll catch an hour's nap when I can today. There wasn’t any freight to be moved or anything to justify using a ship just to get there. I can work in transit as well as sitting at a desk. I know you guys are setting up for the day this early, and wanted to catch you before you are busy later.”
Detweiler’s eyes did that flip thing to blink on a menu in his spex. “Henry, we need a couple of breakfasts for a guest and myself at the bar.” He looked a question at Hussein and got a nod. “Make that three,” he corrected. “Something simple and fast.”
“Thank you,” Jeff said. “I brought my latest effort hoping you would give me your opinion.” He pulled out four bottles and pushed two to each of the men. “This is three years old and made using suggestions from the Earth Master I hired. I think it can be improved by another three or four years, but sort of doubt going ten or twelve years would make any difference. At least to most people.”
Detweiler leaned over the bar and got two glasses. The bottle had a screw cap with a plastic seal and he broke it. The amber fluid looked much finer than the raw yellow color the sample a couple of years ago had. Detweiler deferred to Hussein and he rolled the liquor up the side of the glass watching the bead. He sniffed at it delicately and took a sip.
“There are the classic tastes of caramel and vanilla. You’d assume it a whiskey at first sip. There is even a trace fruity flavor but the finish is raw and there’s considerable bitterness.” He frowned at it. “I taste the wood but it’s the sort of note you get with a cheap Chardonnay. Let me try it with some ice.”
“Let me start with ice,” Hussein decided.
Detweiler waited on Hussein’s opinion.
“This reminds me of a whiskey we bought in my misspent youth,” Hussein said. “Heaven Hill was the brand, cheap and passable. Especially the third or fourth glass. It does have a rough finish until your palate is numbed.”
“I’m sorry it doesn’t pass muster,” Jeff said disappointed.
“Sorry?” Detweiler said surprised. “You have made a rough but drinkable whiskey with just a few years of experience. You’ve nothing for which to be sorry. I won’t promote this as a sipping whisky but it’s fine for mix. Half the drinks people order have such strong flavors you could make them with anything and they’d never know the difference. What can you expect to taste over pineapple or cherry? I’ll take an option to buy a thousand liters in bottles and half that in carboys for the mix machine. I expect we’ll do a good takeaway business.”
“That works for me too,” Hussein said quickly. “If I didn’t fail to speak up quickly enough. I hope Detweiler hasn’t bought up your capacity.”
“No, I can meet that, gentlemen. I appreciate your candor, your orders, and thank you for breakfast too,” Jeff added as Henry arrived with their meals.
* * *
“Here’s everything from the Naito interview,” Meijer said. “The description of how it appeared from inside the ship is priceless, but Naito himself is so clean it’s disgusting. I’d have bet against any third-tier politician being that clean. I asked some rather pointed questions about what financial advantage this or that action did to benefit him. He not only answered them but look at this. You can see from the software he was genuinely hurt I’d suggest such a thing. He admits to wanting higher office but is painfully practical about admitting he is too young and inexperienced to gather any support right now.”
His boss, Morton, examined the circled remarks in the transcript, and the program’s corresponding metrics. “I didn’t know it could show such a thing. I’ve never asked it interpret responses other than true or false, even with input from a cap.”
“Probable emotional response is pretty deep in the settings. It isn’t as accurate as simple veracity,” Meijer said. “Capping him would have been pointless. I’m glad we didn’t. The deeper reading from a cap can turn a 40% evaluation into a 50% reading. But when you are getting solid unambiguous readings of 97% or 98% all it will do is shift it up or down one percent.
“That’s how it works,” his boss agreed, “but everything he described is his perception of events. We have to remember his observations are subject to human error. Some of this doesn’t make sense. Even he asked at that one point if he’d lost consciousness because his own experience didn’t make sense to him.”
“Sir, permission to speak freely and be a smart ass?” Meijer asked.
“As if you ever needed permission to tell me I’m being stupid,” Morton said. “I am not one of those insecure people, terrified to have someone smarter than me working for me. I hope you realize I’m a buffer for you to several people above me. People who would have fired you by now for that very crime if you reported to them directly.”
“Your intercession is appreciated,” Meijer assured him. “I just wish to reference the remark the Lewis girl made when he asked if anything he’d seen was a secret. She said he could tell the truth and he wouldn’t be believed.”
Morton flipped the hardcopy report to the end and back-tracked a few pages.
“Yes, she said that with qualifiers. I consider my skepticism, having not interacted with the subject directly, which can be an advantage. One develops subjective opinions of anyone you interview. Those I report to will be even more critical, being further removed by not knowing you. Even reading the same report by your hand that I am. You’ve interrogated quite a few prisoners, interviewed witnesses, and taken legal depositions. Why do you give Naito’s account more weight than the average eye witness account? They are notoriously inaccurate.” He looked at the thick printout in disgust. “And this one is a damn book.”
“I don’t expect our political masters to believe that,” Meijer said pointing at the report. “I’d really like to convince you, however. If you believe it, that will guide what resources you expend and who you watch closely for years.
“Naito, if you listen to the audio recording, has a disturbingly detailed memory. He is a natural observer. Now I know excessive detail is a feature of creative lying. Our bosses, being expert liars, know that trick and assume it is in play when they hear too much detail.”
Morton frowned because he’d rather not have had that on his office recording.
“In the courtroom, a jury hearing a witness say he saw a green car hit the pedestrian and speed off, will more readily believe the witness who says he saw a green Brazilian Fiat hit the victim, and point to him, going south on Palolo avenue.
“Details have a flavor. One layer can be added on the fly and never checked. He had a gun in his hand, can be added with impunity. But an expert liar knows that “He had an antique Sig Sauer P226 with the hammer back” will be too detailed, and get you in trouble. If you do that you’ll mess up and the gun will turn up being something visibly different or a model that has no external hammer and contradicts your story.
“Naito adds things like April pointing to storage lockers and specifies number five. He even adds qualifiers for things he isn’t familiar with and knows he may be in error. He’s the sort of expert witness that terrifies lawyers to cross-examine.
“When we stopped for dinner, I stopped discussing the case and made some supposedly idle conversation with him. In matters that touched on politics and his personal loyalty, he was as precise there as he was remembering his flight on the space ship. He openly advocates closer relations and trade with both Texas and Home, but qualifies everything in advantages and disadvantages. He kept speaking in such detail that the interview ran almost to midnight. I’m not sure he can ever be politically effective if he doesn’t espouse one position and hammer on it to influence his peers,” Meijer said.
His boss, Morton, sat back considering all that, and Meijer let him do so quietly.
“First, I’m not sure that you aren’t being hard on Naito because he disturbs your world view that all politicians must be crooked. You may be expending energy trying to affirm your private convictions. Secondly, imagine how much easier it is for him to remember everything if he simply tells the truth. Liars have to remember all the versions of events they told various people. Why, if Naito makes that a constant habit to qualify everything, then later he can always say in full honesty and under oath that he pointed out the advantage of something that prevailed, and the disadvantages of something that failed.”
Meijer looked a little dismayed. “Do you know what? I think maybe he’s smarter than me.”
* * *
“What could be more important than our current project?” Holbrook asked Heather.
“It isn’t a matter of importance,” Heather explained patiently. “Jeff needs Dr. Houghton’s skill set on a matter held in tight security by a group of a half dozen people. As I understand it, you are at an impasse with the two devices which we obtained and unlikely to make any quick advance without significant improvements in human tech or theory. Indeed, since it looks unlikely that we will get any more artifacts you should be considering how to wind down the effort to understand what we do have. It would be time now to plan on returning to your previous research and what assets you want to keep for that and what you will mothball or release to other uses.”
“I may take a sabbatical and pursue some other studies that caught my interest at Marseille,” Holbrook said. He had an expression that said he had a bad taste in his mouth. Heather suspected he expected her to encourage him to stay. He was an asset but at this point, the drama he created took the shine off his utility.
“I’m sure you are the best judge of how to use your time,” Heather agreed. “I hope you find the studies you wish to pursue useful and refreshing. If we find something new that may be challenging and of interest to you, I’ll be sure to inform you.”
Holbrook looked blank for a good three-beat and then seemed to realize the song was over and nobody was still dancing but him. That was the termination of their conversation. He nodded and disconnected with anything else unsaid.
“Doctor Holbrook thinks he is a Fermi or a Newton, and should be privy to all your plans and secrets,” Dakota said from the side, where she’d followed the conversation with Holbrook off camera.
“I know. He’s going to go stew on it and compose how he’ll turn me down if I do try to recall him to some project. Marseille can have the joy of smoothing his feathers down every time he feels slighted. What he doesn’t understand is we get along just fine with the French, and anything they get off him they’ll offer us in an equitable trade.”

Chapter 22
Eric was on the com for Jeff. Before he accepted the call, and Eric could see his scrutiny, Jeff looked closely at his face. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but Eric was making the transition from looking childish to looking like a young man. If he petitioned for his majority soon Jeff should consider how he was going to vote. Indeed, they did so much business together he might owe him a sponsorship rather than a straight vote.
“What’s up, Eric?” Jeff asked after he connected.
“Two things. I’ve looked into collector coins and found some special issues that would be profitable to copy. There are commemorative coins for special events and anniversaries, there are challenge coins for all sorts of organizations, and there are official coins that have a face value but are special issue. I’ve prepared a list of offerings from Earthie coin dealers. Those kinds that had the greatest appreciation in value are noted. There is also a list of questions I haven’t attempted to answer and would welcome your input.”
Jeff didn’t like Eric creating work for him instead of relieving him of it.
“Give me an example.” If it was easy stuff, he’d tell Eric to decide more himself.
“If we have commemoratives, for what sort of anniversary?” Eric asked. “Earthies are big on centennials, but sometimes they do twenty-five or fifty-year anniversaries. Those might be of interest to people still living when it happened. I think you could saturate the market and lose people’s interest by bringing them out too frequently.”
“Yes, maybe aimed at different markets.” That was complicated, Jeff had to admit. “Perhaps depending on if the event is Earth-centric or Spacer. We’ll have to see how Life Extension works out. It might be necessary to go with the centennial, bicentennial, and then the quincentennial,” Jeff decided. “I’ll look at the list.”
“The other thing is, I’d like to open a post office,” Eric said.
“You mean you want us to open a post office?” Jeff asked. “You don’t need my permission to do that. How would it fit in with the banking business? As I understand it, the UPS office accepts postal mail. They notify you if it matches a com address or has a real corridor and door address, and they charge if you wanted it delivered. If you don’t want to pay, they toss it in a bin. Anybody who wants to can come in and pick it up during first shift. They get stuff that doesn’t have a recognizable recipient too. They bag it all for carbon scrap to the Moon when it builds up.”
“That’s what I was told too, but their bin self-purged yesterday. They’re not going to hold undeliverable envelopes and won’t even accept postal packages for somebody who isn’t a regular known customer anymore. The bin caught fire from something in it off shift, so the fire control system locked the room down and flushed it to vacuum. It made a mess and cost them extra to clean and restore pressure.”
“And this makes you want to do the same, why exactly?” Jeff wondered.
“Because I read that some tiny countries that are just an island with hardly any people make a lot of money by issuing postage stamps. It would more than pay for the trouble of dealing with it.”
“No thank you. It was just a fire this time. Next time it may be an explosive device. UPS is already set up to scan everything for hazards and something still got past them. I don’t want any part of it. Neither do I see it as a bank related service.”
“Then, you don’t mind if I pursue it with somebody else?” Eric asked Jeff.
“Not at all. May you make a ton of money and get much joy from it, far, far, away.”
“Thanks, Jeff. I’ll let you know how it works out,” Eric promised and disconnected.
Jeff shook his head in disbelief. Maybe Eric wasn’t that grown up yet. If it didn’t work out, he’d either get an emergency message or feel the pulse ripple through the deck.
* * *
Vic stopped weeding when the sun was high. There was about as much sunlight as he would get today on the eight solar panels he had lined up along the south side of the barn. They were hooked up just as Ted had drawn in his schematic to get the best combination of voltage and amps. His best set of jumper cables were attached and draped through the window into his shop.
The four new panels were from six miles further down the state highway than where he collected the first set. If they didn’t provide enough power he wanted to wait until he had armed companions to go further afield. They hadn’t seen any scouting forces like before but they had traveled carefully in the moonlit night, assuming outsiders wouldn’t risk that.
Ted wanted the tubes from these blinker signals badly enough to send Arlo and one of his new men to pick them up. He also sent some handwritten sheets making more suggestions about what might work to cast gold and some other useful do it yourself ideas. He surprised Vic by asking his advice on how and where to pan the river and tributaries upstream that ran past his place.
Vic was trying his suggestion for making a mold in which to melt the gold directly. Ted included some nice drawings that helped. He’d crushed several dozen graphite battery electrodes and made a paste of them, with a touch of honey as a binder. Vic formed a bar shape in a folded foam box, with a waxed wooden form making a tapered cavity for the ingot. The plain end was where he’d clamp a lead. After drying it and pulling the wooden form he fired it in a tin in their cook fire.
The bar was lowered into a slot cut in a firebrick salvaged from the fireplace of a derelict vacation home. He clamped a carbon battery rod in a homebrew holder and put on his welding helmet. There were some chunks of sintered gold already in the mold with some borax, and more ready to add with BBQ tongs. The first arc he struck told him this was going to work much better.
The last time he’d experimented, striking an arc between two carbon rods with only four panels powering it, he couldn’t maintain it. When the metal melted it was hard to see it run together and slump away from the arc. Once the whole end of the mold bar was glowing bright yellow. The gold was a molten puddle filling the bottom of the mold. He hadn’t been able to do that before.
Vic had five troy ounces of gold dust and flakes measured against an ounce silver coin on a homemade scale that was also Ted’s design. He added a little extra, expecting some loss from impurities boiled off or absorbed in the flux. If it was a bit heavy, shaving a little off would be easier than remelting it, when he had access to a better scale. When it was all melted the hollow was half filled and his carbon rod was pretty well used up. He carefully disconnected his feeds, clamping them on dry wood. Vic sat a washtub over the still hot brick and mold, weighing it down with a rock. He wouldn’t feel safe to leave the barn without doing that. It would stay hot enough to start a fire on contact for a while. After supper, it should be cooled all the way and he’d see if he could tip the ingot out without destroying the mold.
* * *
Walter had his sensor package ready to show Jeff. At first, Jeff didn’t understand the long rod in his hand was the fly-by sensor to check the North American ship for weapons.
“For some reason, I assumed it was going to be a sphere,” Jeff said.
“Any particular reason?” Walter Houghton wondered.
“That’s how we made a lot of our drones and little spy bots. It’s the best volume to surface area ratio. But I suppose it’s just habit,” he admitted. “Why a skinny cylinder?”
“As it sweeps past the North Americans’ orbital facility it will adjust and turn to stay pointed at it.” Walter pointed the rod at Jeff’s head and swept it from left to right, changing the angle to keep it pointed at his head.
“If it can do that accurately it will present a very small cross-section,” Jeff said, nodding.
“Both optically and for millimeter waves,” Walter agreed, “but there are other advantages. It is easier to make a very sensitive detector with its long axis pointing at the source. Also, if there are any sensors watching from another angle, off to the side, they will see this as a thin line. It’s still very stealthy, it’s covered in nanotubes that will absorb both visible light and microwaves. But it will still occlude stars.”
“I take it that coating isn’t particularly delicate?” Jeff asked.
“You’d have a tough time scraping it off without destroying the thin tube under it. My skin oils and contamination from being in the air will boil off in vacuum.”
“So, tell me more about how this works,” Jeff said.
“All the security and surveillance systems heavily process the images before they categorize them and decide if they should be reported to a human observer. I believe they will all have the same presumption you did of a bulkier drone. A thin dark line sweeping across their field of view is more likely to be interpreted as a lens aberration or a software artifact. However, if you keep sweeping past too frequently, you run the danger of the software being sophisticated enough to keep track of similar anomalous events and issue an alert.”
“We shall use it sparingly,” Jeff promised. “One thing bothers me. What happens if they detect it and don’t just shoot it? What happens if they send a drone or manned ship after it and capture it? How would you feel about having the North Americans take your probe apart piece by piece and thoroughly analyze it?”
“That would be a problem. There are several physical devices in it obtained from Loony sources. They would be very upset with me for leaking them to the Norte Americanos. I’d be even more upset to have them capture the onboard software.”
“What can you do to fix that?” Jeff asked, before he started offering suggestions.
“I can strip the guts out of this thing and put it in a double walled tube just a few millimeters bigger in diameter. Between the inner and outer tubes, we’ll pack it with a layer of CL-20. It will have a command in the software to detonate it, a secondary receiver on the back end in case the primary command module fails, and I’ll make it look super simple to take apart in such a way removing the first screw will make it self-destruct too. It shouldn’t take more than two days.”
“I’ll buy that,” Jeff agreed, “and once assembled, test it by doing a fly-by scan of something else with a sample of fissile material.”
“When do you want to make a real pass?” Walter asked, eager to see how it worked.
“The Earthies are almost fanatical about controlling nuclear weapons. They tend to only load them on a manned vehicle at the last moment before it departs. We’ll wait for signs they are almost ready to send the ship out again before taking a pass. When they have a burst of activity bringing materials up on shuttle flights, then we’ll surveil them. But there’s something else we need to do first, to be ready, even if we miss a chance at surveying them until a future mission,” Jeff said.
“We can grab an object in the jump field of two or three vehicles and drag it along. I want to test out our ability to do that very quickly under computer control. Just detecting they are violating the L1 limit is pointless unless we can do something about it. I want to stand ready to intercept their ship and capture it. We then can snatch it away wherever we wish in our fields. Your drone is not the only thing waiting on that. We are holding up our crew from making a return trip to a very interesting planet. They know why, but it’s still driving them crazy being made to wait.”
Walter screwed his face up in thought. “That sounds dangerous. You may have a fight on your hands. If it is armed as you think it is, then they may fire on you.”
“Since the ships doing the intercept would be within fifty meters, directing nukes at them wouldn’t work out so well for the launching ship,” Jeff said.
“They might be set up to detonate them on purpose if they think they are evading capture. That would seem an obvious option for off in the unknown. Safer to just destroy them.”
“There’s no art or message in that. The North Americans have no tradition of suicide like some other cultures. We might as well start with orbital bombardment if we just blasted them, because that’s where it would end up. We want them to see they are hopelessly outclassed and need to comply with our directions,”
“Fine, be as artistic as you wish, but I’m not going to ride along,” Walter warned.
Jeff looked a little puzzled at that. “Of course not. We didn’t hire you to do that.”
* * *
“Nick Naito is going to have another little party for his work friends,” Meijer said.
“Well, he knows you by sight now. Did you get an invitation?” Morton asked.
“No, but I still thought it might be a source of useful information,” Meijer said.
“Spying on your own government is fraught with all sorts of dangers,” Morton said. “Those in power see it as beyond your mandate and an act of disloyalty. You’d be spying on several departments, increasing the risk. I don’t believe our current administration has codified that, but the principles are in the English law we favor. The ugly history of the practice is so well known it would be difficult to plead you had no idea they would object. If the objects of your scrutiny are of a particular faction, there is no way to avoid the appearance of partisan favoritism. If you are caught, it is likely to damage us far more than any benefit I can see us obtaining.”
“Naito seems to be having an outsized influence on people. I’m sure we could justify our interest to the heads of government on that basis,” Meijer said.
“Do you think he’s plotting a violent counter-revolution?” Morton asked.
“I don’t think he has it in him,” Meijer said truthfully. “But he’s very persuasive. I’ve put bugs in the city apartment he shares, but he rarely stays there. I ran those recordings through keyword programs but that told me much less than they usually do. I ended up listening to almost the full run time of them because key words just didn’t work. He discussed politics and trade with his roomies, and always presents both sides. But by the time he is done you always seem to know which side you should take without him saying that outright.”
“Being persuasive is not a crime,” Morton reminded him.
“I think he might be more candid with his neighbor,” Meijer said, ignoring Morton’s remark. “When Nick and the Hunter woman go into town together, they don’t call out their security company for just a couple hours long shopping trip, but bugging them has proved difficult.
“I think it would be valuable to know which direction he wants to go, because I expect him to advance in politics. I’d be shocked if he doesn’t run for higher office in time.”
“So far,” Morton replied, “all you’ve convinced me of is that if he does run for a higher office, I should vote for him. He seems of good character. I’m not sure you aren’t simply trying to prove otherwise. And if he does advance to higher office, he’ll be in a position to look back and see we have records of his private conversations when there was no wrongdoing involved. He might very well take offense at that. It’s the sort of thing that sees agencies stripped of funding and powers.”
“That’s true, but we already have other cases never entered in the official agency archives. Those things can disappear just by destroying a phone or thumb drive,” Meijer said.
“You shouldn’t mumble like that. I didn’t understand a thing you said. You seem to have an obsession with Naito. If I tell you to leave him alone, I suspect you are going to observe him and try to keep me from knowing.”
“I’d just do it on my own dime and time,” Meijer said.
“Which nobody would believe while you are still in the agency,” Morton said.
“Well, you could fire me for safety’s sake,” Meijer said.
“If you thought I would you wouldn’t suggest it. Why can’t you use a walk in or fly-in bug? If you put a half dozen in his place and the neighbor’s you should have decent coverage.”
“I tried. They go in and stop transmitting. The last image I got out of one was something like a miniature crab or spider reaching out to it and then there was a flash and it was gone too.”
“Umm… help from their Spacer friends,” Morton surmised.
“That’s what I figure too,” Meijer agreed.
“You could have an agent stand-in for one of the catering staff at this party and carry a recording device on their person,” Morton suggested.
Meijer blushed deeply, drawing a deep breath, and shook his head no.
Morton was surprised at such a strong reaction. “You tried that too?” he asked.
“The caterer is an older gentleman, Mr. Kekoa, a Hawaiian. I asked if he would allow me to send an agent instead of one of his workers. He informed me that it’s a family business. Naito knows them and asked for the same servers as last time. He further reproved me, saying Nick is a nice man and I should be ashamed of myself. He volunteered that he wouldn’t tell on me and disappoint Nick since he was sure Nick knew me.”
“How could he know that?” Morton said.
“Exactly what I asked. He said if Nick didn’t know my face, I’d be asking to replace his worker myself. The old boy is no dummy,”
“That’s why you got so upset?” Morton asked.
“No,” Meijer said, getting upset a little all over again. “I got upset because I started to put my case to him a little differently, and he held up a hand and cut me off. He lifted his phone, took my picture, and said “You government types are all alike. Phone, send pix to family, all. Message: If anything happens to me. This man why. Phone: I’m done. There, that went to my brothers, my sisters, wife and kids, uncles, aunts, and so forth out to extended cousins. We take care of each other. I didn’t support the revolution to have it turn into the same old crap as North America.”
“I never intended to threaten him,” Meijer insisted.
“Well, there is a legacy reputation from the heavy-handed North Americans to overcome,” Morton said. “I’d suppose Kekoa sees you as just another flavor of police. I can’t blame him. That’s a big part of why there was a revolution. People aren’t disposed to go back to that.”
“Any other suggestions?” Meijer asked.
“Yeah, drop it while you are ahead,” Morton advised but didn’t order. “And hope Mr. Kekoa doesn’t die in suspicious circumstances, so you meet thirty-eight of his grieving relatives.”
“Thanks,” Meijer said, but he didn’t say OK.
* * *
“We line up with our ships next to each other and let our clock check synchronization when I start the program,” Deloris said. “I understand all that and am totally Charming Charlie with letting the computer fly the ship. I do that for convenience and sometimes for necessity when human reflexes just won’t suffice. But I always know ahead of time what the ship is going to be doing that I’m too slow to do. I may be too slow, but they haven’t built an Artificial Stupid yet I’d trust to exercise judgment real-time in any step along the way.
“April has made clear you are one of those people who scribble a couple of lines on a board, and then get impatient with us poor slow people and skip a couple of hundred lines by drawing a swooping line and saying “Therefore…” Well, that’s not going to fly with me, Bunky. We line up and activate the program and >POOF< we’re light seconds away bracketing a ship we could barely locate with radar or optics an eye blink before. There have to be a few intermediate steps there where I need to understand exactly what’s going to happen before I’m going to say INITIATE!”
“Of course,” Jeff agreed. “I was just giving you an overview of how it will appear to us. With a known location, like this orbital facility, we don’t even have to see our objective from our start point if we have another feed showing how everything is located in real-time. The computer has a 3D model from that. As soon as we jump close enough to resolve the individual ships, shops, and residential structures it will identify the target from that. If it doesn’t cross-check with what was expected it aborts. It gets a little more complicated if we have to catch them while they are under acceleration. But their drive will make them visible from behind.”
Deloris nodded. “And how close do we have to be to acquire them on the move?”
“I’d prefer to do that passively,” Jeff said. “With the optics we can carry on our ships we can see them across the system looking up their drive. Sitting passively, like in Earth orbit we can discriminate between objects that size at a hundred kilometers, but we can’t jump to an accurate enough end position from there. The gimbals and servos aiming the jump engine just aren’t accurate enough.”
“You don’t have to aim the whole ship now?” Deloris asked.
“You do have to aim it still within certain limits. The mount is only for fast, fine adjustment. What we have it programmed to do is jump from our initial position where we turn it over to the computer to a thousand kilometers. The computer will check our drift from each other, correct, and jump to five hundred kilometers. It will check spacing and clocks again, acquire the cluster and perhaps the individual target, depending on the lighting, and jump to two hundred kilometers.
“It corrects and jumps to a hundred kilometers. If the last jump was sufficiently accurate it will go straight on to fifty kilometers and make the final jump from there to beside the target to snatch it. If it isn’t well within set parameters at a hundred or fifty it automatically aborts and removes us far beyond the target. From fifty kilometers we should both arrive within plus or minus five meters of the distance we dialed in and one clock cycle.”
“What’s our clock cycle?”
“Two hundred picoseconds. It’s separate from our navigational computer. But each stop takes at least a millisecond, maybe two or three, for each ship to signal a drone we are dragging along how far away it is, and the position information to be relayed to the other ship, processed, and back. The one out of position the most always corrects for both of them and that tiny physical movement of the jump engine takes more time than the data transfer.”
“Why not communicate directly between the ships?” Deloris asked.
“When we bracket the target it likely will be blocking a direct transfer,” Jeff explained.
“And that all happens faster than I can sense it,” Deloris said. Her tone didn’t sound like it was a question for sure, but Jeff went ahead and took it as one.
“I certainly hope so or we’ll look bloody foolish.”
“To ourselves,” Deloris said. “If we pop in, and the computer says no go and removes us, will they even know we passed through?”
“Good question,” Jeff allowed. “Only the first couple large jumps happen faster than the speed of light lag for them to observe them. We will be detectable close in if they have systems fast enough to see us. But they’d have to be automated. We’ll be gone before any human could know. I’ll make sure there’s nothing behind the target in the way, like the Moon, and jump out beyond the range of any possible radar we’ve observed at their shipyard site. But they have lots of radar and sensors in various orbits and even ground facilities that may be keeping a watch. They may correlate the data and see we disappeared and reappeared on a line through the facility, even if nobody checks video for transient images. I’m not sure they are that good. Just because they do stupid things, I don’t want to start assuming they will always do stupid things. I’d rather overestimate my enemies.”
Deloris looked at Jeff hard, nostrils flaring, and then forced her gaze away.
“Yes, I’m a mess socially and oblivious to people, but please tell me what that look was about.”
“You said when we jump, we go straight from here to there and there isn’t any travel between in the sense we usually think of it,” Deloris said.
“That’s as accurate as I think English can describe it,” Jeff agreed.
“So, why worry about the Moon if you are jumping well beyond it? Wouldn’t you just appear on the other side? For that matter, pointing a snatched ship back headed to the sun instead of away, couldn’t you just jump through the sun to the opposite side?”
“Maybe, even likely,” Jeff admitted. “The aimpoint does curve with space around a massive body. We’ve mapped that by jumping past Jupiter at different distances. I suspect if you could jump straight beyond, your jump might be shorter on the far side. In electronics, particles do tunnel through material barriers, even if they aren’t that thick. And liquid helium does some very strange things because of quantum behavior on a macroscopic scale. I have no confidence in what a ship would do. Do you want to volunteer to take a ship beyond the sun the short way, when we can risk losing one?
“I think I’d rather sent it on autopilot and wait for it on the other side,” Deloris said.
“Me too. About the time you think you have it all figured out, you don’t,” Jeff warned.
* * *
Diana answered her com from her lanai, reclining on a lounge chair, and sipping a tall cool drink. “Hello Sweetie, what are you up to?” Eric was fascinated by the bamboo thicket behind her and the huge dog visible looking over her shoulder at her pad, but held his questions.
“I’m thinking about forming another company and looking for partners,” Eric said. “I called to offer you an opportunity to be a full partner and the right to have an equal say in who, if anybody, comes in with us.” He neglected to tell her Jeff had turned him down. Diana thought Jeff so smart that his taking a pass on the idea might be enough to put her off.
“That’s very complimentary. Do you have any others in mind?” Diana wondered.
“My sister maybe. I haven’t put it to her. It’s going to involve art and if we get her in as a partner it will be cheaper than commissioning her piece by piece. But I think we will still need to hire work out to have a variety. I thought of you first because you’ve been fair and easy to work with on the lotto. And you are on Earth now and then. I think it would be beneficial to have some of the operations there.”
“As long as it could be Hawaii,” Diana said. “I’d be very reluctant to travel very far and the truth is Hawaii is pretty far from everywhere. Want to tell me briefly what this thing is?”
“I want to make postage stamps. People collect them and pay good money for them. A lot of Earth nations have cut back on postal services or they’ve gotten very specialized. But if anything rarity has encouraged the hobby and driven prices up. Some tiny places like the Falkland Islands or Ascension Island make significant money printing them. Ascension has less than a thousand people so why couldn’t we do the same thing? But you need at least the appearance of having an official postal system to make your stamps attractive. You can’t just print them. In fact, a lot of countries make it illegal to have a private system. Some even outlaw competing package delivery services.”
“But we, Home that is, doesn’t have a postal service. At least I never heard of one,” Diana said.
“They don’t have a government lotto either,” Eric pointed out. “That was to our advantage.”
That was true, and stopped Diana’s objections cold.
“I’d try to send you a letter just to see what would happen,” Diana said, “but I haven’t received any mail since our Hawaiian revolution. I’m not sure there is a postal service here. Nobody has announced one. I’ve got some North American stamps somewhere in my desk. I’m sure they aren’t any good now except maybe on the mainland. Have you ever gotten mail on Home?”
“I’m a kid. Nobody sends me mail, but my mom and dad got quite a bit of mail the first couple of months we came up to Home. Two different states where we never lived were sending him tax bills and threatening him. We were even still getting coupons for a pizza place we liked. Dad couldn’t sell our car when we left. He owed more than it was worth so we drove it to the port and left it in short term parking. He got a humungous bill for a month of short-term parking, then later a tow bill, and charges for storing it in the impound lot. They didn’t have any way to collect so it came to nothing.
“The UPS guy used to accept mail from any Earthie source. He’d leave a message on com that you could have it delivered to your door. Most people knew it would be a couple of hundred bucks so he didn’t get many takers. He’d toss them in a bin and you could come when he was open and paw through them if you wanted to find yours.
“That ended a couple of days ago when something caught fire in the mail bin. It smoked everything up and triggered the security system to lock the cubic down and flush it to vacuum. UPS has a good scan routine and something still slipped past them. That’s why I want an Earthside facility, for safety.”
“Why was UPS doing it for free?” Diana wondered.
“I suspect because they have a lot of contracts Earthside to move mail and it was an insignificant cost to support them,” Eric said. “It would make sense for us to pay them to carry mail for Home and Beta, but I’d aggregate them on Earth.”
“And have them deliver to people’s doors like the mailman does on Earth? Nobody has a mailbox hanging in the corridor… Hang on, I have to check something.”
Diana was gone for several minutes.
“Are you OK? You don’t have an emergency?” Eric asked when she returned.
“I’m fine. You just made me realize I’d stopped checking the mail so I wanted to see if there was anything in the box.”
“Was there?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, a bird’s nest, and they didn’t appreciate the intrusion. If there was any mail, they either covered it or included it as nesting material.
“I doubt we’d have a problem with that,” Eric said. “I already have my courier network. I just figured on using them to deliver.”
Diana paused considering it all.
“How much do you think you’d have to charge to deliver a letter? Last time I bought North American stamps a six-buck stamp would send a fifteen-gram letter.”
“This is aimed at collectors. I doubt Homies will use it much. Not many people would pay UPS two hundred dollars NA to bring their lunch to them when I didn’t have a courier covering the late shift. I have no idea what they charge now. I was thinking two hundred dollars Australian for a postcard, five hundred for a letter, and a thousand for a first day cover with a special cancellation.”
“People will really pay that kind of money?” Diana wondered.
“I think so, but if they won’t it’s still a lower risk than starting to build spaceships or make drugs where the equipment is hundreds of solars or millions of dollars Australian.”
“You’ve convinced me, I’m in,” Diana said. “I’m going to see if Nick has heard anything about Hawaii starting mail service back up. He gets the inside stuff on a lot of what’s going on.”
“That sounds good. Are you OK with me talking to my sister? Not making her an offer or bringing her in but seeing if she is interested in drawing for us?”
“Of course. I’m surprised you didn’t ask her first,” Diana admitted.
“I’d rather she just draw for us, rather than manage,” Eric said. “She’s awfully sweet, and that’s OK. It’s nice to be around people like that, but sometimes you have to be pushy and she has a really hard time deciding when nothing else works, and she needs to do that.”

Chapter 23
He knew Morton wouldn’t approve, but Meijer had wide discretion in how he used his budget. He paid a private investigator, not an agent, to hike through the nature preserve and plant a surveillance camera high in a tree overlooking the Hunter woman’s house. The area downhill of the Lewis house lacked a grand tree with its height but you could see the Spacer’s house as well, across the Hunter woman’s lower lot. The camera had a solar panel hung on the side away from the house that charged it for overnight and connected to the net through a commercial ultra-high-altitude drone offering data and photo service to the whole island.
Their photo services were cheap but they looked down without much of a view from any angle. His camera could scan and zoom in real-time to look right in the kitchen window or under the lanai. Oddly the PI reported somebody had been up the tree before. There were bullet holes in the trunk on the house side, and knotted cords on some of the branches that were cut off. They had weathered long enough they showed no DNA traces. Also, on top of a massive branch, somebody had hand-carved symbols neither of them recognized.
When Meijer saw Diana and Nick on camera throw shopping bags in their new vehicle and head to town, he saw his opportunity. They never called the security company out for such a brief absence, and never had gone down this late in the day without having dinner in town before returning. It was the perfect chance to peek in some of the windows his camera couldn’t see and even do a brief entry if the locks weren’t too sophisticated.
Besides that, the house to the other side from the Lewis woman’s place was empty and for sale. If he pulled in their drive his car wouldn’t be easily visible from the Hunter drive and a strange car there wouldn’t raise questions with the house for sale. It might not be this easy again for a long time. Even if he set an alarm off, he could drive back down the ridge road. If he met the sheriff responding, his agency ID would keep the local police from arresting him.
Meijer went past the junction of the main road and the side road leading up the ridge to the side away from the city. He turned around as far down the road as he could park and still see the intersection and watched with binoculars. When the couple turned and went into town, he let them get completely out of sight then rushed to turn up their road and drive like a mad man. He didn’t pass another car before he reached the end and pulled in the neighboring driveway. He used their turn around pad and parked pointed back out.
If he couldn’t get in without breaking something, he’d skip it. He didn’t want to alert them they were being watched. He had an agency sensor pad to detect alarm systems, and countermeasures, an AI to neutralize them, and an automated lock picker with a selection of probes. That was in addition to his agency phone, personal phone, wallet, keys, and his pistol he certainly never wanted to use. He made sure everything was secure behind zippers or Velcro and left the car unlocked.
Meijer followed the stone fence, ducking low, to the back area below Diana’s lanai. The stones in the middle looked different. They weren’t stacked quite as evenly as the rest of the fence. He took a picture of that to puzzle on later and secured his phone again. He put on gloves and got a grip on the far edge of the stones, lifted a leg to the top, and launched himself to roll over the fence low, presenting as little of a profile as briefly as possible to anyone watching. He fell loosely and easily on the grass, hitting on one shoulder, rolling over to his hands and knees.
When he raised his head to look for any motion at the house, he was looking at a broad black face with reproachful eyes. On all four, Meijer was looking up at the dog and Ele’ele stood above him enough he had to dip his head to look down at Meijer.
He didn’t bark but let out a snort that flooded Meijer’s face with strong doggie breath. As soon as Meijer jerked away Ele’ele was on him. He really meant to go for the neck but Meijer was so fast all he got was a huge mouth full of shoulder. They rolled over against the wall, Ele’ele only letting loose when they both crashed into the stones. Meijer knew what was coming and got his arm up, his hand gripping and protecting his neck. That was too much for Ele’ele to wrap his mouth around. He gave up after gnawing at the hand ineffectively a few seconds. Instead, he savaged the elbow sticking up. Meijer was scrambling with his left hand trying to draw his pistol but it was positioned to draw with his critically occupied right hand.
Between bites, Meijer got his legs under him and leaped to clear the wall. Ele’ele bit him on the butt hard. It seemed he’d drag him back, but when he let loose briefly to take a different grip Meijer propelled himself across and rolled in the unmowed grass on the other side. He expected the dog to follow but when Meijer looked, he was just staring across the wall with seeming curiosity.
It was a long crawl to the car since he couldn’t stand. That was just as well, Meijer thought. Standing might have provoked a chase response in the dog to make him leave his territory. Getting in the car was even less fun and he hated to think what he was doing to the upholstery. About half-way down the hill he fainted and plunged off a curve unaware.
Coming back up the hill later Diana had her eyes looking up and to the inside of the curve, alert to meeting any car coming around it towards them on the narrow road. She never saw the faint tire tracks across the outside shoulder. The dense foliage swallowed the car without a trace.
Later, near dark, Meijer regained consciousness and woke to a mass of leaves pressed against the outside of his windshield. Everything hurt and he felt sick to his stomach. The car emergency system didn’t alert anybody because it was built to use the North American system and that was one of the embargoed services. Fortunately, his agency phone had satellite connections and he managed to get it out and hit the HELP ME button on his home screen twice, then hold it pressed for the required three seconds to activate it.
While Nick and Diana were having the takeaway dessert they’d brought home, the Sheriffs blocked the road above and below the wreck location. The rescue squad pulled their vehicle to the edge of the road and a pair of medics backed down the slope gripping a gurney that was lowered on their winch cable. Morton and two agency helpers stood on the edge of the slope to watch them work and didn’t interfere. A couple of minutes after they disappeared into the foliage their call came on the radio.
“We have him and are loading him up.”
“Do you want a wrecker to retrieve your agency car or wait for daylight?” the Sheriffs asked Meijer’s boss, Morton, after the rescue truck took Meijer away to the hospital. It was full dark now.
“Now, but get a big one with a crane that can load it up without dragging a big obvious rut across the shoulder.” The car when pulled up looked drivable. It was stopped by thick brush, not a tree trunk or big rock, but it was loaded on the flatbed anyway.
Once the car was headed downhill. Morton and his two assistants dismissed the Sheriffs, who looked at each other funny but left, wondering why the agency men were staying.
After the cops were out of sight, Morton’s agents went over the area with bright lights, obliterating every tire track and footprint with a rake and broom.
“They’ll never know anything happened,” his lead agent told Morton. He nodded and they loaded up their tools and went down the mountain too.
“Where is Ele’ele?” Nick asked. It was unusual for him to be absent for so long.
“Ele’?” Diana called but there was no response. They turned on the outside lights and he was sitting down at the fence looking into the dark.
“Maybe he found something,” Nick guessed.
“Hold a minute,” Diana said and retrieved a pistol and flashlight before they walked down. She’s been nervous ever since the guard bots April gave them killed some intrusive little bots.
Ele’ele looked over his shoulder at them but turned his head back to the dark.
Diana turned her light on and swept the beam across her neighbor’s yard clear down to their fence on the nature preserve. There was nothing there.
“Come on Ele’,” Diana said. “If there was anything there it is gone. Come on, fellow.”
Ele’ looked back in the night once, reluctant to leave, but stood to follow them.
Nick saw a reflection in the grass and squinted.
“What’s that?” he asked and pointed, but didn’t step any closer.
Diana shone her flight where he was pointing and there was a very nice modern pistol lying in the grass.
“Someone gifted you,” Nick joked.
Diana looked at Ele’ele who didn’t look guilty at all.
“Sometimes I wish the mutt could talk,” Diana said.
Nick retrieved and tried to hand the pistol to Diana who waved it away.
“No thanks. I’m happy with what I have. Finders keepers. Every boy should have a pistol.”
“Thank you,” Nick said, but silently he wondered, “Boy?”
* * *
“This looks promising,” Jeff said. The rock was a hundred meters long and half that wide in a lumpy fashion. “We’ve dragged one near this big before between two ships instead of three.”
“Look at your screen. We are going to do a short jump slaved together to the point listed as ‘A’. We’ll turn and from there we will test the approach and snatch program. That point through the snatch point will leave us aimed for a Jupiter suborbital insertion. We will acquire enough velocity falling around Jove to give us the solar orbit speed we want doing a trailing Mars approach. A couple micro-jumps to get us in the right plane and we should slide right up behind the rock pile we’re building in Mars orbit.”
“Sounds good in theory,” Deloris agreed. “My board is slaved to yours. Show me what you got.”
Deloris crossed her arms to help her resist the urge to leave her hands on the controls. Her ship turned with Jeff’s and the rock went out of sight behind them. There was no noticeable change from jumping and then they turned around and aimed back the way they’d come. The only prominent feature in the sky was the bright dot of Jupiter straight ahead, but still too far away to be sure you were seeing any disk behind the glare.
Her display showed some autopilot lines as the ship moved slightly to point in exactly the right direction and position itself in relation to Jeff’s ship. The Chariot was visible out of her side port.
“Activating in twenty seconds,” Jeff said as a courtesy and her screen showed it happening.
Suddenly there were about twenty lines of code on her screen, all activated quicker than her brain could perceive them. The rock they captured was out her left port and Jupiter filled the sky out her right to overhead views.
“How about that? It worked,” Jeff said amazed, talking through the drone around the rock.
“A little nonchalance at the miracle would bolster confidence in you,” Deloris suggested.
“I don’t have it in me,” Jeff admitted. “I hope it never feels routine.”
“What can I do now?” Deloris asked, more teasing than serious. She knew the numbers.
“Brew some coffee, read a book, take a nap, whatever you want. I’m going to stare at Jupiter. We’re getting a little more atmospheric drag than I expected, but it will only extend our partial orbit another two minutes. I won’t adjust our orientation around the rock until right before we jump for Mars orbit. You have a bit more than six hours to kill while we fall around Jupiter.
“Coming up on reorientation and jump,” Jeff said hours later. “Heads up if you want to see it happen. Sorry if I interrupted your nap.”
“Oh, the ship moving would have awakened me,” Deloris said, tongue in cheek.
It did move a little, turning and aiming from a point on their low orbit aimed at a point behind Mars in its orbit. The rock wasn’t lined up the long ways between them now and Deloris wondered if that would matter. Jeff would be disappointed and they’d have left major cosmic litter behind them in Jupiter orbit if it didn’t come along. As low as they were it wouldn’t last long before it decayed and fell.
A new line painted itself on her screen and Mars appeared well off-center ahead of them.
“We need a minute to read our distance, closing rate, and check the position of the Martian moons and our flying rockpile to see we are aiming correctly, Jeff said. “We’ll be reorienting and jumping a couple of times.”
Mars grew closer with another jump then offset sharply in another.
“We’re just a little too slow,” Jeff said. “If we match orbit with our project now it will take days to drift together. I’m going to let it pass over us and get ahead then we cut under its orbit to pick up some speed and then jump in behind it. That will take another half hour.”
“We aren’t going inside the moons’ orbits?” Deloris worried.
“One, but it’s not in the way. I checked,” Jeff assured her.
“Coming up on our jump,” Jeff said near a half-hour later. “You should be able to see our satellite by eyeball, moving against the starfield.”
“I figured that moving point of light was it,” Deloris said.
No sooner had she said that than it was a lumpy shape in the far distance. She didn’t know how big it was to estimate how far away it was.
“Got it ranged on radar,” Jeff said.
Almost immediately they jumped again and it filled most of her forward port. Suddenly showing a lot more surface detail.
“Damn, you cut it close,” Deloris complained.
“A hundred meters,” Jeff said. “Closing at a little more than a quarter of a meter a second. I’ll back us off to watch. Their gravity would pull them together now without any closing velocity, but I didn’t want to watch all day to see it happen. Backing us off,” Jeff said again, and did so with just the thrusters. He then killed that motion after a couple of minutes.
“See that smoothly curved area on the end? I think we may have shaved a little off by it being too far outside our field of influence when we jumped.”
The exact time and point of contact were hidden from them, but Jeff called out the expected contact time and the shape stopped visibly receding.
“Nothing big enough broke off to show on radar. We’re done,” Jeff said. “Let’s go home.”
“My board is still slaved to yours,” Deloris said. “Go ahead and take us home.”
* * *
“I’m alive?” Meijer croaked before his eyes even opened, dry throat cracking.
“Not your fault,” Morton said from his chair. “It took the efforts of a great many professionals to thwart you offing yourself. You made a valiant effort.
He forced his eyes open. They were sticky. “I called, didn’t I? I seem to remember that. Crap, everything hurts,” he complained.
“Yeah, you called on your agency phone, from your agency car,” Morton didn’t actually say he wished Meijer hadn’t linked the agency to his actions, but it hung there in the air unsaid. “You scared the crap out of the medical tech. He asked the Sheriffs to get their rifles from their cars because he’s never seen anybody torn up as badly as you but a victim of a bear mauling when he worked on the mainland.”
“It was the dog,” Meijer remembered, and shuddered all over. “I got all of a meter inside the fence and he hit me. Damned if I know why he didn’t follow me back across and finish me.”
“Because then you weren’t in HIS yard,” Morton said.
“I did get away,” Meijer said. “They shouldn’t know I tried to toss their place.”
Morton just looked at the floor between his knees and didn’t say anything.
“No?” Meijer guessed from his silence.
“Did you leave your gun anywhere?” his boss asked. “It wasn’t on you and it wasn’t in your car. We went through your condo and it wasn’t there.”
“I… I think I tried to draw on the dog,” Meijer said. “I mean, I tried. I was using my wrong hand and he was biting the crap out of me. I don’t think I ever got a good grip on it.”
“Well, I think you got it out of the holster. We sent a car up the hill the next night and he systematically searched the next-door yard with night vision and never found it.”
“Crud.”
“Since it has no serial number or agency markings, we can hardly run a lost add,” Morton said.
“I screwed up so bad. Do you want to just fire me?” Meijer asked, resigned.
“Fire you? You have fifteen years in this work. If I hire a twenty-something greenie to replace you, I get to watch him make all the stupid mistakes you’ve made over those years. You’ve moved on to learning from really colossal screw-ups. Surely you are within a decade or two of being a genuine expert who has made every mistake possible known to the trade.”
“That’s an interesting take on it,” Meijer allowed. It would be stupid to refute it.
“You are getting some time off now, during which you can contemplate if there are any lessons to be learned from this episode.”
“I’m on leave?” Meijer asked.
“You are on medical,” Morton said. “You were out two days already. While unaware, they fixed your broken and separated shoulder. They did a preliminary repair on your elbow and right hand. They are trying to decide if they can fix a couple of your fingers or if they should force you to regrow them. They marveled that you just had a collection of minor puncture wounds on your neck. You succeeded in protecting your spine. They are growing a mass of muscle tissue to replace what’s missing from your right cheek. That approximates a small roast. It’s going to take a month to create half your right cheek and then a couple of weeks to stimulate it to attach to the blood vessels and nerves. The doctor will likely flip out that I was so blunt with you. He’d have waited a couple more days to bring you around to let me yell at you, but I see little value in sugar-coating it.”
“No, I’d rather hear it,” Meijer insisted.
“Anything else before I let the doctors dope you back up to where you won’t be fit to talk too?”
“No, that sounds pretty good. Thanks for saving me,” Meijer said, and closed his eyes.
* * *
“They’ve had three supply launches in as many days,” Chen informed Jeff and Walter. “That’s heavy traffic for North America. I’d run your detector past them if it was mine to decide.”
“Did they dock to the ship?” Jeff asked.
“No, but each of them docked with the little zero g station they keep there. I suspect that will dock with the ship once. That way they reduce the risk of so many docking maneuvers with the ship. Easier to repair a lock on the station from a docking boo-boo than the ship. The station has a lock with a docking collar at each end,” Chen said. “That wouldn’t even put it out of commission.”
“Define little. How big is this station?” Jeff asked. A docking collar was pretty massive.
“About fifteen-hundred cubic meters,” Chen said. “Part hard shell, part inflatable. It probably can house thirty with storage and work areas.”
“That’s not little to me,” Walter objected.
“It’s tiny compared to Home,” Chen said.
“You have any objections to doing it?” Jeff asked Walter.
“Me? No, I’m hot to do it.”
“Go ahead,” Jeff agreed.
* * *
“Cal DeWitt is being rationed getting aviation gas,” O’Neil informed Vic on the sat phone. “He may have to cut back his flights. The regular filling station in town has regular gas but he’s scared to try it. He’d have to retard the engine timing and climb slower. It might not have the same range and would run hotter. The agency has broken down in the peripheral states for documenting rebuilds and licensing in civil aviation.”
“Has he tried offering more money?” Vic asked.
“They seemed to be fishing for a bribe, but turned down more money.”
“I might be able to help,” Vic said. “Will talk with Eileen and call Cal direct.”
O’Neil didn’t reply. They all tried to keep their text costs down and it was already chatty.
“Babe, how would you feel about spending some of our gold to keep Cal flying?” Vic asked.
“If it can’t be traced back to us yeah. We need his service. But what do we get? I’m willing to do it but not as an act of charity. That’s our ticket to orbit.”
“I’ll have to see what he can offer,” Vic admitted.
Eileen frowned. “The bar you made is nice and easier to transport than loose dust and flakes, but I’d offer Cal the panned stuff. It’s more likely to stay anonymous.”
“Good thinking,” Vic agreed. “I won’t even mention we can make bars so he doesn’t think about that option and convince himself it would be better.”
* * *
Linda was surprised to get a postal letter. She didn’t even have a mailbox. They received it for her in the apartment complex offices and sent her a text message to pick it up. She stopped in on the way home from work and signed for it. It was heavier than she expected. When she got home, she ripped it open and read…
North Florida Services Corporation
Tri-State AeroSpacePort Parking Authority
Port Parking Billing
14623 Narcoossee Rd.
Orlando, Florida 32827
TSPPA.com
Federal Employee Anonymous Delivery
Linda Pennington
Bureau of Labor Allocation
Ms. Pennington,
The authority finds you are once again listed as a North American resident and Federal employee. From a records search, you are the co-owner listed on the title of the Jeep Vagabond VIN-1GUH7NMV2L4564324, issued short term parking stub 17483572.
The vehicle incurred 342 days of short-term lot occupancy at $275/day.
The fee for that is $90,050 outstanding.
The vehicle was towed to our long-term storage before a year per local ordinance.
The towing fee was $890.00.
It occupied a space in the long-term lot for 421 days at $155/day for a fee of $65,255.
After the fee increase for long term storage increased to $175/day it spent another 113 days in storage for an additional fee of $19,775.
Per a DOT order declaring all vehicles in that model year no longer legal for road use, it was sent to mandatory recycling on day 114. There was a uniform processing fee of $15,500. No additional storage fee was assessed for day 114.
Per state law, we charged the minimum published regional commercial interest rates on the balance owed after 90 days. As of the first of this month that stands at $52,239. A spreadsheet of these charges with detailed dates and statutory authority is available at our online site using your stub number to search. If you wish to make arrangements to pay the sum of $243,709 please contact us by the end of the month. If no arrangements are made, we shall initiate the garnishment of your wages under the Federal Workers Safety Act which hides all relevant Federal Employee personal information for your privacy and protection. The Act allows this since we can’t know in which local court to file against you. If you make payment with any credit instrument, a 6.25% fee will be added for processing.
FinCorp Payments Clerk # 152 on behalf of the TSAPA
What would she do? Linda thought dismayed. That was a third of her annual salary. She was barely scrimping by as it was. Would they count her subsidized housing and heroes' retail discount to federal employees as wages towards the garnish rate? This was all Mo’s fault…

Chapter 24
“We got it!” Walter said, and clutched a fist triumphantly.
“I had every expectation you would,” Jeff said.
“I could have had it transmit the data as soon as it was clear, but it seemed a needless risk. Now that they have the probe in their hold, they’ll plug into it and we’ll have the scan in a few minutes.”
“If Barak can figure out the cable doesn’t plug in either way,” Chen remarked. They were coming to find Chen wasn’t a big fan of Barak from his occasional comments. Jeff had long decided that he’d never try to have the two of them work together with no buffer. Since he was fairly oblivious to social clues it was a blatant dislike. Barak on the other hand didn’t seem to reciprocate Chen’s attitude, or didn’t reveal it. Jeff found that a much better image to project even if Barak secretly felt the same about Chen.
“Here it comes,” Walter said and a couple of the screens started displaying images and lines of data. They all silently watched waiting to comment until it was sufficient to be clear.
“First thing I see is that there are three very faint radiation sources in the station,” Walter said, “not the ship. We expected that, but what I don’t understand is the spectrum. I’d expect either uranium or plutonium for a nuclear kernel, but this says we have both in each.” He looked at Jeff.
“Don’t ask me. I found my own solution to those sorts of weapon so I never spent time studying the Earthies’ solutions or the history of their development.”
“I have read what unclassified information can be found,” Walter said. “Now it’s true, the basic tech is 1940’s, and nobody wants to talk tech on fusion weapons publicly at all. If Pakistan and India can both build advanced versions, you’d think it was so well known you could order do-it-yourself plans off the net, but they still frown on that. If you read a few nuclear engineering books on top of the published information, you get some ideas on your own pretty quickly. But that scan signature makes no sense to me.”
Chen did that squint-eyed, pursed lipped thing Jeff suspected was supposed to make him look inscrutable. Jeff didn’t have the heart to tell him it looked more like indigestion.
“I don’t know myself, but Tetsuo can probably tell us,” Chen said.
“Go ahead and call him,” Jeff said.
Tetsuo, once on the screen with the question put to him, briefly looked hard at Walter. To his credit, he didn’t question his need to know, since he was with Jeff and Chen
“I’d rather come speak to you face to face,” Tetsuo said. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Come on then, Papa-san,” Jeff invited.
Tetsuo nodded and disconnected.
“Papa-san?” Walter asked at the informality.
“Tetsuo, Tetsu, Papa-san, Illustrious Lord, or Benevolent Master. They all work,” Jeff assured him.
“Maybe if he’s in your employ,” Walter said.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” Jeff said. “He never turns it down.”
“I’m going to sweep the place,” Chen said.
“Will he expect that?” Walter wondered. “I assumed your security was very tight.”
“It is, but he’ll do it anyway, through his spex. If he ever caught me missing something, I’d never hear the end of it or live it down,” Chen said.
Tetsuo did gratefully accept a coffee and praise it. Walter noted he did seem unusually active with his spex while chatting. He suspected the coffee gave him time to do so more politely.
“Yes, I understand what this indicates,” Tetsuo said of the data. “It’s one of the most important pieces of intelligence I ever stole for North America. The version of this for which I obtained the details was of course the Chinese version.” He winked at Chen in good humor, because Chen used to be a Chinese intelligence agent. “I was supposed to be too dense to figure out the North Americans had a version of it and were merely interested in any technical differences.”
“I never encountered it in my work,” Chen admitted.
“It’s a hybrid nuclear kernel,” Tetsuo said. “Due to the difference in capture cross sections and spontaneous neutron emissions, plutonium requires a much faster assembly than uranium to form a supercritical mass. If you have the chain reaction start too early in the process you can get a wet firecracker, a reaction that prevents the full assembly and wastes a great deal of the fissionable material. They figured this out very early. That’s why Little Boy used a slower gun sort of assembly mechanism and Fat Man used a symmetrical implosion device. This uses a uranium core inside an asymmetrical plutonium sheath.”
“Why bother?” Chen asked not seeing any advantage.
“It’s hard enough to quickly assemble a plutonium sphere. To assemble a supercritical prolate spheroid of precise geometry is much easier to do as a composite with the uranium as a core. It yields more towards the pointy ends, where reflective cones are attached. The longer you can stretch it the better. They’ll also have fusion boosters serving both cones optimized for x-rays. When it detonates, the x-rays are directed down a curved and tapered cone of graphene layered with other crystalline materials and a spike core. It directs a substantial portion of the radiation by shallow angle reflection and interference into a narrow beam, rather like a lens, or perhaps a funnel is a better analogy. Technically, you could have it create one beam or even multiple beams, but in practice having an equal back beam gives you a more realistic possibility of detonating it between two targets. One has to be careful not to fire it straight on of course, and get caught in your back beam. The classified term the Chinese used for such a weapon was an X-head. Of course, that was a couple of decades ago. They may have made some advances in the tech since I became aware of it. It occurred to me, from seeing the graphics, that a somewhat steerable beam wouldn’t be impossible.”
“It’s a stand-off weapon,” Jeff realized instantly.
“Yes, and suited much better to space warfare than a conventional warhead which has to get close enough it will risk interception,” Tetsuo explained.
“We will not allow them to take something like this past L1,” Jeff said.
“How do you intend to stop them?” Tetsuo asked.
Jeff explained in some detail. Unsurprisingly, Papa-san had some suggestions.
* * *
The door alarm sounded which was surprising. April hadn’t ordered anything. Nevertheless, when she checked the corridor camera there stood one of Eric’s couriers waiting with an envelope. That too was unusual. Normally he made a point of doing deliveries to Jeff or her personally.
“Hello, what do you have for me?” April asked.
“Ma’am, Eric is instituting a new mail delivery service now that UPS is no longer handling it. He is also originating Home mail with stamps and philatelic services. He is gifting you with this first issue stamp and first-day cover in appreciation of all the support you’ve given him, and because you’ll find it of particular interest.” Although he was blond and visibly not Asian, he offered it double-handed in the Japanese manner with a respectful bow. You got that on Home now and then.
Guessing from that, April bowed just slightly and said, “o-tsukaresama deshita.”
The courier bowed deeper and said, “dou itashi mashite.”
Since he didn’t politely disclaim it as nothing April laid a two-bit tip on him. He looked pleased.
April went back to her seat and drink before she slit the rather large envelope. Folded over the contents was a handwritten note.
April,
Please accept these as a token of my admiration. You were the obvious choice to honor with this first issue. I hope you’ll regard these as keepsakes, but I frankly hope they are also investments.
Eric
Alarmed, she pulled out the next item her fingers found. It was a single large stamp four centimeters high with the aspect of a golden rectangle. It was mounted in a card stock folder with a glassine window. On it, in portrait mode was an artistic interpretation of a well-known photo. It was her firing her laser, taken by Adzusa, and published by Genji Akira clear back in the revolution.
April didn’t have to read any credits to know who drew it. The style was Lindsey Pennington’s. April’s face was bright in almost photo-realistic detail, as was the beam of her weapon and another crossing from behind below hers in a fluorescent green so bright it seemed back-lit. The young man who appeared just behind her in the original photo was cropped out, but everything else faded away in both sharpness and color brilliance away from the main subject.
You could still clearly read the Japanese and English corridor markings on the corner she was braced against, but they were dull and didn’t distract the eye until you started looking for details.
April could see Eric doing this, but as an artist, Lindsey should know even an artistic representation of a photo encroached on Adzusa’s ownership. Home didn’t have copyright laws, but Lindsey needed to make this right with Adzusa.
In the big envelope was a first day cover with a special cancellation stamp that featured a silhouette of Home. Finally, she withdrew a sheet of twenty-five stamps in an archival folder. She checked carefully, but only a stiffener remained in the envelope.
Once upon a time, she’d have been outraged by Eric’s audacity in assuming she’d be honored. She used to object to anyone addressing her as Lady too. Finally, she’d grown up a little and decided it was petty reverse snobbery to reject people trying to honor her. She sent Eric a text thanking him and offering to autograph his personal first-day cover if he was keeping one.
“Oh sweet, thank you. I didn’t want to impose,” Eric’s reply came right back. “Is it a good time to come over? But if I’m coming, might I get one for Diana? She’s my partner in this venture.”
“Sure, bring whatever you want to be signed,” April invited, amused. She should have figured Diana would be involved being a partner in the lotto with him. “As long as you don’t go nuts and have me signing crap until my hand cramps up. I’ll stamp it with my hanko too,” she offered.
* * *
“The North Americans docked the Constitution on their little space station,” Chen reported. “If they are doing serious loading instead of moving small items across piecemeal, I expect they will be making another extra-solar trip soon.”
“Should we scan them again?” Jeff wondered.
“I’d wait. I don’t expect them to bring up the crew until after the ship is loaded and provisioned and all the systems are given a thorough check. Wait until they move it off the station and then you should have a day to do a fly-by and scan it,” Chen said.
“Coordinate with Walter, would you, please?” Jeff requested. “Make sure he has his probe all serviced and ready to sweep past on short notice.”
“I will, and I’ll contact you both when I see them undock,” Chen promised.
“Go ahead and copy Heather and April next time if you didn’t,” Jeff requested.
* * *
“That’s lovely art,” Nick allowed of the stamp with April’s image. “I was relieved when our mail service went down. I was fined once for failure to empty my mailbox until no new mail would fit in it. Of course, North America fined everything any official could think to fine. They never had enough money. I’m not sure I want to encourage anybody to start it up again. FedEx Australia still services us no matter how it grates the North Americans. All I ever got was a bunch of catalogs, political flyers, and advertising circulars. Would you like to be the Republic’s first Post Mistress? I could toss the idea out to a few agencies and see if anybody is excited by it. You probably already know more about it than most folks from starting up the Home Service.”
“Hush your mouth,” Diana said. “I like being able to come and go as I please and not answer my phone if I’m not in the mood. Eric is the perfect partner who is happy if I let him run it and just provide money and suggestions when asked. I have the lotto and other things going to where I certainly don’t need the money. Why would I want a job?”
“You could secure your place in history and serve the public,” Nick teased her in a put-on smug voice. He made similar noble noises when she harassed him about his job.
“History will have to muddle along without me,” Diana said firmly.
* * *
Vic sent Cal a text message. “You told us how Alaskans pick up without landing. If you will risk gas to do the same here, we will give you goods likely to stop your rationing. We’d expect a higher priority and an ambulance flight if needed if it works.”
It sounded stilted, like some old telegram messages he’d read, but it was the third try composing it and every time he added or removed words it sounded worse. It all hinged on how much Cal trusted him and his judgment.”
It took Cal several hours to think about it before he sent a text.
“Yes, will fly to O’Neil’s Sat. if the weather holds. Will do a bucket drop by my passenger.”
Vic hadn’t thought about that. The planes in Alaska were high winged. Cal would have a hard time doing it from his plane. Given how short he was and the way he used a booster seat, even more so.
* * *
“The Constitution has undocked. We are uncertain if there is any crew aboard. I’d send your sensor package past it quickly if I were you,” Chen said. He copied Jeff’s triad and Walter.
“Proceed?” Walter double-checked with Jeff.
“Go ahead,” Jeff said. “The additional equipment that Tetsuo suggested will be installed in a few hours. Deloris is ready with Johnson as second in Hringhorni. April will be flying with me. Mackay and Otis will be with us in Dionysus’ Chariot, and are waiting on standby, ready to go.”
“It’s in motion,” Walter told them.
* * *
April disposed of a lot of messages unread. If she hadn’t corresponded with the person before, it was hard to write a subject line that would make her do a security scan and open it. News articles and blog posts were even worse. She saw the keywords and mostly didn’t even bother to read the full title. She did have other people listed in her searches, however. Lindsey Pennington-museum-collection as key words did pique her interest. The more so because it was an Earth site and translated from Italian. Lindsey didn’t advertise for Earth business. For that matter, she only had a low-key site on Homenet to show her work that didn’t beat her drum for Home business very hard. But when April had guests in and they saw Lindsey’s work on her walls most recognized it without getting close and examining the signature. April thought she’d like to see the article and called her to share the news.
“Did you know an art museum in Italy added some of your work to their collection?” April asked.
“No,” Lindsey said, looking puzzled. “If they bought it in their name I’d have noticed. Maybe it was contributed, or they hide behind a buyer. Some people would hold out for a better price if they thought they were selling to a well-endowed institution.”
“I didn’t read it,” April admitted, “but I just put the link on the bottom of your screen.”
“I’ll look,” Lindsey said. April thought she meant later, but her eyes said she’d split the screen and was reading it now. Her face slowly went unhappy and she looked up at April dismayed.
“They put it in their collection of primitive and folk art,” she finally said.
“I take it from your expression that’s bad?” April asked.
“I find it insulting,” Linsey said. “It was one of my fashion drawings. It isn’t even accurate to consider it primitive or folk art. It was advertising so it’s more accurately commercial illustration. The implication is that it isn’t fine art and displays a lesser level of training and skill.”
“I messed up,” April said. “I assumed it was a good thing for any art institute to display your stuff. I’m so sorry. I meant no harm or to make you unhappy.”
‘That’s OK. I can see that.”
“I guess they’d think the same of my tapa,” April said, hooking a thumb at the big Tongan mat on the wall behind her. “It’s a national treasure I couldn’t even buy or export now.”
“Oh definitely,” Lindsey agreed, “That would even be closer to the truth. You know what? You just made me feel better. They’re idiots, and I’m not going to worry about it now.”
* * *
“The radiation sources are definitely on the ship now,” Walter reported. “I think they are all close together. I could only see one source that’s bigger than the individual sources that appeared in the station. I think that is two of them close together and the third is hidden behind them.”
“Now we know they intend to break the L1 weapon limit,” Jeff said.
“But you might as well stand down and do something else. They aren’t going to bring a crew up for a couple of days,” Chen informed them.
“You have somebody inside that deep?” Walter asked. He was impressed.
“No, I looked at the weather report. They have a tropical storm coming in on Florida. That’s where the supply flight came from. Nobody in their right mind would try to lift through it.”
“I’ve kind of stopped thinking about weather,” Walter admitted.
“There’s a group now in Africa, who blame us for deliberately causing bad weather on Earth,” Chen said. “It spans several countries and some prominent politicians endorsed the theory after they had a drought. They needed somebody to blame. People won’t believe things just happen. There is always a cause. They used to start looking for witches whenever anything bad happened. We’re much easier to blame because nobody’s grandma gets hurt.”
Walter looked at him in disbelief. “Do they have any idea how much energy it would take to alter a weather system?”
“Oh, they don’t think we do it by brute force,” Chen explained. “We supposedly understand the weather so well we can just shine a laser in the clouds over around Cape Verde at just the right spot and it sucks all the water out of Africa so that a couple of weeks later we have a hurricane rolling through the Caribbean.”
“Out of Africa? Not off the warm ocean?” Walter demanded. “I’m impressed they think we are that smart. What is the payback for all the computer modeling time and hiding these secret weather control satellites? It has to cost a fortune,” Walter said.
“We’re all rich but we’ll just do it for spite, because we hate Earthies,” Chen assured him.”
“People have believed far stranger things,” Jeff said.
Walter looked upset but didn’t argue. He knew it was true.
Chen got an odd expression looking at Jeff. “You could snatch it now pretty easily before the crew arrives.”
“That supposes any reasonable person would see they intend to break the L1 limit. As we were just discussing, people in the composite aren’t very reasonable. Besides that, now that I know how these X-head missiles work I want copies of the x-ray focusing cones. If we just steal them without any overt act and refuse to give them back it looks much, much worse. If we keep them after the weapons are directly involved in violating our law it makes more sense to their leaders, if not the mob.”
* * *
Vic put the wind flag out for Cal with the highly visible tarp and blanket spread on the lawn even though he’d been to their place before. He had a GPS and it should still be functioning. He’d also taken down the power lines to the house and the second pole from the house. It seemed unlikely they’d be getting service any time soon and it was one thing less for him to get his bucket tangled on and need to drop his rope.
They all sat on the porch after breakfast, waiting without any discussion. Saturdays were normally working days but this was a special occasion. The gold he was giving Cal was an ounce. He included two of the rings he’d made, and the rest in dust and tiny flakes. It represented a great deal of labor so he wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost even if somehow dropped. Vic put it all in a plastic pill bottle, the bottle inside a ratty old orange hunting hat for visibility and the whole in one of their few plastic bags that didn’t appear to have any holes. He’d tied a lanyard around that with a clip on the end he could fasten over whatever sort of bail Cal’s bucket had. There was a note suggesting he start low and not use it all up in one bribe.
Pearl and Tommy joined them in about an hour and informed them her dad wouldn’t be coming. He said he’d seen an airplane before, and would probably see this one just fine from his house. He had things to do and reminded Pearl not to overdo it in “her condition”.
They heard the plane before they saw it. Vic was surprised at how high he stayed. He did a lazy orbit also wider than Vic had pictured and a white plastic bucket dropped from behind the wing on the passenger side. It followed the plane around so closely Vic was having doubts the whole thing was going to work, but the lower it dropped the smaller the circle became. In the end, it was swinging back and forth as much as around but so slowly it wasn’t any problem to grab it.
Tommy ran down to it with him and stood behind him to make sure the rope didn’t drop behind him and get wrapped around him. Cal dropped low enough to allow some rope to drop on the ground but it was across the bucket from him. Vic had an unexpected package removed, and the gold clipped on the bail and in the bucket before the rope had time to swirl in a circle twice.
Vic and Tommy ran back away from the bucket so Cal’s handler would see they were done. The plane made a couple more turns as the bucket was hauled up, and then turned to the east and left before the bucket was fully retrieved.
“That was interesting. He had the bucket weighed down with some gravel in the bottom,” Vic told them. “That stabilized it when it got lower.
“Did you ask him to buy some stuff for us?” Eileen asked, nodding at the package.
“No, I didn’t think there was time to order things off the satellite phone sent to Cal. He said last time it can take a month now for things to arrive.” Vic was opening it as he spoke.
There were six boxes of canning lids, a bottle of aspirin, a bottle of dishwashing detergent, a banded pack of white washcloths, and a restaurant size plastic container of peppercorns.
“Wow, the pepper alone must have cost him several hundred bucks,” Eileen said.
“Easily,” Vic agreed, unfolding a note which he read aloud.
The local stores had these things in good supply, so I could buy a few extra without looking greedy. I figure it’s all stuff you can use or trade easily. The lids will be gone quickly, so I got them now.
“Pearl, there’s a little plastic bullion jar with a red screw-on lid in the jar and container box. Would you find that for me, please?” When she returned Vic poured off a sample of peppercorns.
“That’s for your dad,” Vic said, handing it to her. Both of them thanked him profusely and took that as a good time to leave.
“They don’t know what we put back in the bucket, do they?” Eileen asked after they left.
“They don’t know,” Vic emphasized. “But they can probably guess. Her dad does know he should dig in the corner of the barn if we should get killed or the house burns down, as does Mr. Mast. People seem to be going back to minding their own business as the social norm more than before The Day. There are always a few folks who are natural busybodies, but when snooping on your business isn’t government policy they stand out. I’m fine with that change.”
* * *
“We have a vehicle lifting from the Cape,” Chen informed them. “I’d bet it’s the crew for the Constitution. I find it hard to believe they’d give anything else priority to lift.”
“It will take them a day to alter orbits and burn again for the geosynchronous level,” Jeff said. “I’ll tell everybody they have twelve hours and then they will be on call to board with an hour’s notice. I’m going to meet with Otis and Mackay to familiarize them with a temporary weapons system installed on Dionysus’ Chariot.”
“It’s irritating when you are needlessly secretive,” Walter said. “Is there any real operational reason to not tell us what you cooked up?”
“Show me how smart you are,” Jeff challenged. “Why wouldn’t our normal weapons serve?”
“The same reason as theirs shouldn’t work. They aren’t designed to shoot at something fifty meters away. Although I’ve been thinking about that. They might launch one of those weapons and have it turn and target you from fifty kilometers away. If they trust it to be accurate enough and not take them out too. Did you borrow a heavy machinegun again, like Easy and April used in the Happy Lewis, back in the rebellion?”
“You got the nature of the problem right away. That was a pretty good guess on the machinegun. I just don’t trust it to be as immediately disabling as I’d like. I’m more concerned they may refuse to stand to or try to ram us than shoot at us. Even just changing their vector and making us chase them all over to rematch would be an unacceptable hazard.
“We know fairly accurately where those X-heads are in the ship, but all the other systems we only have a vague idea where they have to be. I borrowed a 57mm Bofors from Heather. I’m confident one round through the engineering spaces and they won’t be taking that ship anywhere under its own power.”
Walter looked so dismayed he couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth a couple of times and then just shut it after an obvious struggle to articulate, and just looked at Jeff.
“Oh come on. It’s not that radical,” Jeff objected. “What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t know where to even start. The recoil first, I guess. You need an ocean-going boat with hundreds of tons displacement to mount a Mark 4. I can’t believe you can mount it to your ship safely. It’ll bend your ship in the middle. If you did fire on the North American ship just fifty meters away, you’d be in danger of the shrapnel damaging you too.”
“We already have it mounted,” Jeff said. “It’s one of the reproduction guns Heather copied off the one she bought. It’s stripped down and lightened extensively. We mounted it to the hold deck on a rail with gas shock absorbers, It’s the second strongest bulkhead in the ship. Besides it being able to support two-ton at nine g on the thrust line, we reinforced it to transfer force better to the outer hull too. It’s not such a crazy idea. The North Americans have used a 105mm howitzer from a cargo plane before. It was harder mounting acceleration couches in the hold than the gun.
“Don’t forget, Heather mounted her original gun on a rover and used it quite successfully. We cut the barrel off short. We can get the hatch closed with a centimeter to spare, and reduced the powder load by two-thirds. As far as the explosive shells, we took the fuze off two dozen factory rounds. They are effectively inert. It has forty degrees of transverse to aim it and a simple optical sight.
“Otis and Mackay will both be shown how to aim and control it firing single rounds. Just in case they need them, we’ll have four rounds with the fuze still mounted if they should need to shoot from further away. It can’t be too far because it isn’t slaved to our radar and is only bore-sighted.”
“What about the muzzle blast?” Walter insisted. “You are shooting from inside the hold.”
“We have the traverse limited to twenty degrees in any direction. That’s nowhere near the edge of the hatch. The muzzle brake was cut off, of course, so you won’t get any blow-back from that. It’s just going to dissipate in vacuum,” Jeff insisted.
“I’m so glad I’m not coming along,” Walter said, unconvinced.
“Us too,” Jeff said. He meant it as a rebuke, but Walter didn’t seem to get that.

Chapter 25
Ting-ting-ting, told Vic there was a text message on the satellite phone. It was from Cal. Vic suddenly realized he hadn’t received a single wrong number or spam call like he used to with a cell phone.
Your trade goods VERY well received. The tank truck driver is pushing to get more. He says there is a market for it on the coast. Will try to find out more safely without revealing anything.
That both excited and worried Vic. They would eventually need to trade their gold for a currency that could buy a lift ticket or go somewhere gold was legal. Traveling any distance would be difficult right now. They could only hope it got easier. He wanted to think about it before he made any reply to Cal. He showed the message to Eileen and asked what she thought.
“How would anybody delivering fuel to Nevada have any connections to the coast?” she asked.
“You don’t think Reno gets gas from Oregon or Washington?” Vic asked her.
“Show me a map. I assumed it was from back east, through Salt Lake City maybe.”
“Ok, it could come down 395,” Eileen agreed looking at the map, “but I don’t think they’d send a tanker down any of the lesser roads I see here. There’s not much that runs north-south either side of 395. Towards the coast gets iffy. I don’t know how far south Oregon is secure to North America right now.”
“A connection to the coast, not to the west of us but further north, anywhere from Eugene to Seattle is plausible,” Vic said.
“I’d tell him to reveal little and not make a target of himself whatever he does,” Eileen said. “We have what we need right now. Things are changing. You have no idea who those scouts were that you saw. We could end up back under North American law or become part of Texas before we’re ready to go anywhere. It may be easier to travel in a couple of years with less chance of being robbed or arrested. I say we should just be patient.”
“I agree,” Vic said, nodding. “We may be able to go to Cuba if travel to Texas opens up, or we may might be able to get to Hawaii if Seattle becomes accessible. I’ll tell Cal to be extra careful.”
“I’d wait until we can see him to say more,” Eileen said. “I don’t trust the sat phone to be totally secure. We need to ask Cal which coast the driver is talking about, and a lot of other questions too difficult for a short text message. But if he does any trade in gold it should be for good money. The business segment of the news on the phone hasn’t been too blunt, but I’m reading between the lines that dollars and euromarks aren’t what they used to be. Have him research that if you trust him to get the right of it.”
Eileen visibly had another thought. “If the tank truck driver is bribable, we might buy a ride with him someday. That could get us most of the way back to wherever his terminal is.”
“I think Cal does a good old country boy imitation pretty well, but he’s older than me, and he’s been doing fine for himself. I think he’s shrewder than he projects,” Vic suggested.
“I hope so,” Eileen said. “It’s hard trusting people or planning anything when you can’t sit and talk things out.”
* * *
“There is activity to report,” Chen said. “They just brought the Constitution back to dock at the station and the shuttle is on a long slow approach to dock at the other side of the station.” He had the triad, crew, and Tetsuo all notified.
“Why would they do that?” Jeff asked. “They must be suited up already. They could have just gone straight across to the Constitution and been on their way.”
Walter gave a little snort of amusement. “You talk about Earth Think, but there is Space Think too. Sometimes you are so immersed in your way of doing things you don’t see the difference. Don’t expect them to undock and leave in any big rush.”
“Maybe true, but if you can compare our thinking, explain why,” Jeff asked.
“You’ve told me how the first jump to Centauri was a surprise and you were looking down at your board and missed it. But later, when you sent a crew out to another star what did you do?”
Jeff looked at him puzzled. “We rather thoroughly briefed them. Three times as I recall, and the last time when we had lunch with them. There was some discussion about the mission mixed in a few other times when doing business, and we had to reach an agreement on their compensation. When they finally boarded and lifted, which is analogous to what we’re seeing the North Americans do, we’d already talked everything out and they knew what they were going to do. We didn’t hang around jiggling their elbows and making a pest of ourselves. They had work to do.”
“What do you imagine the Earthies are doing right now?” Walter asked.
“I’m not sure and that makes me nervous,” Jeff admitted.
“Well, first of all, they have to take video and stills of the crew together and with the station commander for the news services. They may rehash other achievements because this could be released to the public later as a propaganda piece if all goes well. Then they’ll probably do a few other group pictures with those having enough rank to be considered important for internal consumption.
“The station commander will make a speech about how important the mission is and how it reflects favorably on his command, his service and their nation and add an actual formal briefing because he’s their CO.
“If there is a rep there from the primary contractor for the ship, he’ll get to make a short brag speech too. If he isn’t on the station, they’ll tie him in by video conference. Then maybe the ground-side head of the service and a few politicians. Certainly, the President will tie in to speak, even if he only takes five minutes or so to say how it’s a credit to his party. It will be the usual dog and pony show.”
“That sounds like it’ll take all day,” Jeff said. “They will just have come in from their shuttle flight and will be tired already. By the time they get done with all that talk-talk, they’ll need to sleep before they’re fit to fly anything.”
“Right you are. If you rush out to position yourself right now, I predict you’ll end up waiting at your board, strapped in your seat, for at least twelve hours, waiting for them to sleep, undock, and do whatever last-minute checks are needed once they board the Constitution. They’re not going to just go with no ceremony,” Walter assured them.
“You’ve convinced me,” Jeff said. “Anybody else have an opposing opinion?”
Nobody disagreed with Walter.
“Let’s put off boarding and positioning for another twelve hours,” Jeff said. “Even if they board in that time, they still need to maneuver to a higher orbit to depart. I’m betting they do so on the opposite side of the Earth from us again. We can still plot an intercept before they can jump.”
* * *
“The little killer bots April left us haven’t caught anything lately,” Nick said.
“I know. I’m not stupid,” Diana assured him. “Whoever was probing us stopped right about the time we found Ele’ele watching across the fence. If I were them, I’d have continued to send a few bots in just so I didn’t establish a pattern and link the two events.”
“That’s because you are sneaky and devious. I like that about you,” Nick said.
“I’m older than you,” Diana said plainly. Something she’d been waiting for an opening to discuss. “It’s easy to ignore because I don’t look as old now, but it does make a difference. Probably less on Home than here. But you don’t do me or yourself a service to forget it entirely. I have a lot more experience in everything. I didn’t run through five husbands sitting at home eating bonbons and watching soap operas. I paid attention to how each of them successfully conducted their businesses. The ability to see it from the inside was educational. I could probably pass the bar from husband number three, and I’ve done just fine trading my own accounts, since number four was a stockbroker who dabbled in commodities.”
“Since we’re being blunt. Does that mean I should consign myself to being a temporary boy toy?”
‘I’m fond of you,” Diana said. “As we both get older the difference between our ages will get smaller. This is something the Spacers are just coming to understand. I’ve heard them talking about it, trying to figure out how it will work. For right now, be content for us to be good friends. You didn’t have any immediate aspirations to be husband number six, did you?”
“Not immediately. But it didn’t seem impossible to me. Don’t we get along marvelously? I’m aware you have years of experience ahead of me. Listening to all your stories about each husband I was aware you picked up knowledge from each, and keenly aware that even though I got a decent position in the government by supporting the revolution, I don’t have the level of life experience they did. I think I have the potential,” Nick said. “Perhaps watching me, you could add navigating public service to your skills list. I might even be happy to simply remain friends and be business partners. It seems to work for April, Heather, and Jeff.”
“It does, though I’m not sure how. Jeff can be infuriating, April is downright scary, and Heather, the closest one of them to normal went and made herself Queen of the Moon. They are all such odd birds it’s a wonder they get along with anybody, much less each other. I’m afraid if I asked, I’d just expose how full of Earth Think I still am, and ruin what progress I’ve made with them.
“You don’t want to be too closely associated with me now anyway. The islands seem pretty Spacer friendly, but I consider things still in flux. I have Home citizenship and nobody has told me I can’t retain both, yet. I’d miss my place here, but I could lift for home and never come back if things turned against me. You seem more attached. I don’t think that would be an easy decision for you.”
“I can’t see Hawaii turning hostile to Home. We need allies against North America if they ever get their mainland problems sorted out and decide to annex us again.”
“And yet, somebody was trying to snoop on us and was in my yard messing with Ele’ele. I can’t see how I’d interest a foreign government,” Diana said.
“Maybe, probably even, since we found the pistol on this side,” Nick allowed.
“I went down later and used a special light,” Dianna revealed. “There were blood traces on the grass and wall, and a long track of smears leading uphill on the other side.”
“Why would you have cop or spy stuff like that?” Nick asked.
Dianna waved that away. “It’s not exotic. Hunters use it to track wounded game. If you want to talk about spy stuff, who else but spooks have a pistol with no serial number or maker marks?”
Nick didn’t say anything to that, but looked unhappy.
After a bit, he spoke again. “I’m not sure I’d care to emigrate to Home. It was strange to me when I was up there. But I would like to tie them closer to Hawaii. I’m just not sure how to do it. Tourism is an obvious possibility, but having truck bombers attack your ship doesn’t exactly sell that. I can offer Jeff coffee and fruit they can’t grow on the Moon, but I want a weekly shuttle that will lift passengers going back. So far, I can’t offer enough to induce him to set up regular service. They get some of those things through Australia, and we need Australia too. We don’t need a trade war with them.”
“Being very direct works well with Jeff. He wouldn’t think it odd for you to just ask what you can do to get them to schedule regular shuttle service. Things constantly change,” Dianna counseled. “Be ready to grab any opportunity.”
* * *
“They undocked again and a whole bunch of people went over to the station from the Constitution,” Chen told everybody. “Five, which is more than I would have believed could fit inside with the crew too.”
“Anybody have a problem with one hour until we undock?” Jeff asked.
They all checked off on that, one by one.
At the north spindle, ready to board, April stopped and looked hard at Otis and Mackay.
“Your armor is different already. Are you guys down to monthly obsolescence now?”
“Not quite that bad,” Otis insisted. “This is the vacuum rated version of what we wore in Europe. It only has a few minor improvements. We have to be suited up to fire the gun.”
“Or board them after,” Mackay added, patting the Halligan tool on his hip.
“Jeff never said anything about boarding them,” April said.
“I brought that up,” Mackay said. “If they won’t yield, what else are you going to do?”
“Bring them back and wait for them to run out of food?” April suggested. “They aren’t doing more than a quick turn-around yet. They probably have just a couple days of supplies.”
“Bring them back to Home with three stand-off nuclear weapons aboard? No thank you. Maybe drop them off disabled in a slowly deteriorating orbit around Pluto to think about the error of their ways.”
“Inside Mercury’s orbit might put the heat on them better,” Otis suggested.
April couldn’t say anything. Not with her history of putting North America’s feet to the fire. Jeff must have somewhere in mind to bring them but hadn’t said where.
“I just checked the video feed and talked to Chen,” Jeff said. “They haven’t moved. We’ll board and open the hold door for you. You can go out the maintenance lock the service and fuel guys use and board directly.”
“It would be nice to dock with both the cargo hatch and man lock attached,” Otis said.
“Easier to put a lock between the command deck and hold,” Jeff said. “But every time we add something like that, the Chariot is a half meter longer and a couple of hundred kilos heavier. We’ll never standardize everything to the docking collar. Some spaceplanes have to standoff with a passenger tube and oversize hold hatches that are too big to mate to a SpaceX standard. If we mate both at once, we have to mandate them all to be inline and spaced the same. Other habs have different lock spacing too.”
“I can dream,” Otis grumbled.
Jeff, as the pilot in command, was strapped in and activating everything. “I have an idea,” April told him. “When we build an exploration lander, I want it to have a big enough hold to carry an all-purpose rover. But it is nice to be able to attach to a standard docking collar. I wonder if you could put a standard docking collar and utilities in the center of an over-sized hatch? So it can serve both purposes?”
Jeff paused for a full second, hand poised over his screen.
“Sure, we can do that for you. And if we make it strong enough to be a load-bearing part of the hull I can put one on the other side too. Then, when you want to bring home something too big to fit, we can just let it stick out both sides if we limit our acceleration.”
“Wouldn’t that be cute,” April said. “Or we can have both open and retrieve aircraft by flying them right inside, or set up the hold deck for a BBQ with all the ventilation we need, and the crew safely off the ground.”
“Or sling hammocks and enjoy the alien breezes,” Jeff said getting into the spirit of it.
“Our commander is crazy,” Otis said on the common radio channel.
“Our commander is crazy, sir,” Mackay reproved him.
“Hringhorni in position at the edge of Home controlled space,” Deloris interrupted them. “Please contact me on the local and suit frequency at lower power after we have made our first jump. I’ll let you slave my ship to yours if you want to position us,” Deloris offered.
“Getting clearance to join you at the control limit now,” Jeff told her. “I’m advising home control we will be leaving the area with you in ten minutes. I’ll show you where we are going to sit and watch. Chen is arranging a link be aimed at that point to show us what our friends are doing.”
For such a short distance, Jeff moved Dionysus’ Chariot on thrusters to come alongside the Hringhorni. “I show your board slaved to mine. Our destination is on your screen. Do you concur, Commander?” Jeff asked.
“Looks good to me,” Deloris agreed.
“Orienting. Jump in thirty seconds,” Jeff announced.
The stars didn’t move, but when Jeff rotated the ship together, they were further along the Moon’s orbital path looking back at the Earth with the Moon much smaller beside it.
“Now, what’s this matter you wanted to keep somewhat private?” Jeff asked.
“I just want to remind you that we are going to bracket this boogie, so if you start shooting non-explosive rounds at him, they might come through and hit us. I’d appreciate a heads up so I can move out of the line of fire,” Deloris asked.
“You are of course welcome to move your vessel any time you perceive a risk to it. You even have my permission to program your ship to release from my control if you give it any command to move. That could save you a half-second. But if you hear me say “bugout” that indicates you should remove yourself.”
“Works for me,” Deloris agreed.
“Permission to take a nap, sir,” Mackay requested.
“Yeah, go ahead. We’ll chat here and wake you on the command channel,” Jeff said.
* * *
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Jeff called in a joking sing-song voice.
“Somebody else was napping too?” Mackay guessed.
“Surely you are familiar with the fairytale,” Jeff insisted. “There’s a very famous old Disney flat animation of it.”
“My parents raised me oddly. I’m not familiar with a lot of that stuff. I wasn’t allowed to sit and stare at a screen until I was five. Then they started allowing me to watch some very limited videos. It’s a good thing they sent me to private school. If they’d known, the state might have taken me away for child abuse.”
“And yet you seem so normal,” Jeff teased.
“Appearances are deceiving,” his partner, Otis, assured them sotto voce.
“They’re boosting to a higher orbit, but in no particular hurry,” Jeff said, going back to business.
“We have no idea what the sweet spot is for efficiency with their drive,” April said.
“You guys are spoiled,” Mackay said looking at the numbers. “One and a half g is a perfectly fine acceleration level for long burn if you don’t have fancy acceleration couches to make it bearable. When are you going to chase him?”
“When he takes off at a tangent and reveals what his target star is going to be. Or if it looks like he’s going to go around the Earth from us. We’re pointed the right direction to follow and I don’t want to have to search and find his drive again because we let him get out of sight.”
“You could have let me sleep a little longer,” Mackay said.
“And miss the excitement of the chase?” April asked.
Mackay just made a passable fake snore in answer. That was kind of funny since he didn’t snore when he was really sleeping.
“Fortunately, I have a big book loaded in my pad,” Otis said, and settled in to read.
Otis was on chapter three before Jeff interrupted him.
“Course change. They are doing a burn again,” Jeff said. “Another half hour and we’ll be able to compute their probable target star.”
Otis looked up from his pad. “Security work never changes. Hours and hours of crushing boredom, and fleeting moments of screaming terror. This gig promises to be even less satisfying than usual.”
“Why’s that Otis?” April asked.
“It’s vacuum work,” he said, like it was obvious, “we won’t be able to hear them scream.”
Jeff and April looked across at each other. April shook her head and they silently agreed not to pursue that. Otis was back in his book, oblivious to their discomfort.
“OK, I don’t need a half-hour,” Jeff said in ten minutes. “The solution isn’t refined, but the only thing he could be aiming for in that direction is Epsilon Eridani,” Jeff said.
“That seems like a terrible idea,” April said.
“Why’s that?” Otis wanted to know.
“We rejected it as an early target because it has a big halo of dust and likely more substantial particulate crap all around the star. Maybe later after we know more and can control how we arrive in another system better. We have a better drive and still didn’t want to risk the initial insertion into that dirty mess. One grain of sand size particle can do a lot of damage at the velocity with which they will arrive.”
“Then why would they go there?” Otis insisted.
“Nobody has been there,” Jeff said. “It’s close, which means more to them than us. They may see it being close safer than a clean target further away. And being North America, their destination was probably picked by politicians. They might have even been influenced by astronomers who want a closer look at it.”
“What about the guys with their butts on the line?” Deloris asked from Hringhorni.
“I sincerely doubt if they get a vote, other than to turn it down,” April said.
“I’m taking us to a theoretical point between Earth and Epsilon Eridani. We’ll be behind the Constitution and it will be easing into that line. Then we’ll wait until they are past the L1 radius before moving on them,” Jeff said.
“They won’t see us?” Otis asked.
“We’ll be hidden behind them in the noise from their drive. Some systems might see us from Earth or Earth orbit. They can’t send or receive a message from the Constitution for the same reason. I don’t care if somebody is watching with radar. We’ll be accelerating to match with them. They’d see our drive as soon as we light it up too. Jump in fifteen seconds,” Jeff warned.
“Still slaved, expecting it,” Deloris acknowledged.
They turned gently after the jump.
“See the bright blue star about five degrees off our heading? That’s the Constitution,” Jeff told them. “It will creep over to nearly the center of our view, but we’ll close on them and challenge them before it gets there. It will be about twenty minutes before they are past the L1 radius. We’ll have matched velocities by then. Ramping up now.”
“Another chapter,” Otis said and went back to his pad as the acceleration eased on.
April imagined if they had a missile homing on them Otis would want to read a couple more paragraphs before the potential intercept.
“That’s it. They’ve breached L1 and sufficient margin there will be no uncertainty making the claim later,” Jeff announced. “Heads up everybody, I’m ready to initiate the program and we’ll be bracketing them before we know it. Report in, please.
“Ready in Hringhorni,” Deloris said calmly.
“Ready in the hold. Cannon loaded and Otis put his pad away,” Mackay said.
“I’m awake over here,” April confirmed.”
“Intercept program starts in twenty seconds,” Jeff said.
Suddenly, there was a long slim ship closer alongside at the port where the Hringhorni had been visible. They moved forward beside it a little as the ship picked up a small difference in velocity and adjusted.
“Constitution, this is Jeffrey Singh in command of the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot, acting as a cutter for the Kingdom of Central,” Jeff declared on the emergency and ship frequencies. “You are in violation of the L1 limit imposed on armed ships. You are ordered to cut your drive and stand to immediately.”
The ship plunged ahead with no change in acceleration or acknowledgment.
“Visibility is poor,” Mackay complained. “Permission to use a floodlight?”
“Go ahead,” Jeff allowed.
“Try a couple of different frequencies?” April asked.
Jeff did so without acknowledging the suggestion.
“The damned Earthies have made passive-aggressive an art form,” April said, “but I never thought I’d see it used as a military strategy.”
“Yep, they think it will paint us the aggressors,” Jeff said. “Too bad I don’t care.
“Deloris, bugout to give me a clear field,” Jeff said.
“Safe,” Deloris said as the Hringhorni came into view in their overhead ports from behind the Constitution. She was maintaining acceleration but moved on side thrusters.
Jeff double-checked to see he wasn’t transmitting now.
“Mackay, go ahead and put one round through their drive spaces.” Jeff poised with his fingers over his control board, ready to push them away from the Constitution if it yawed violently from the impact.
The Chariot was shoved sideways from the shot hard enough for them to be pushed against their seat harnesses and their helmets tapped the restraints. Jeff cut the drive on both his ships at the lurch, but they were not visibly pushed away from the target.
“Hit. Hole visible about two meters from the drive end of the vessel,” Mackay said. “We see some debris spreading on the far side.”
“There was an immediate thruster firing after the impact that straightened out the wobble,” April said. “I suspect they have it on autopilot and it maintained attitude.”
“Constitution, I’m demanding your surrender,” Jeff sent on several frequencies.
“This a USNA Space Force vessel, I am Commander Danial Yot, and I will not yield it to you. We do not recognize your authority and declare you pirates.”
“Commander, if you do not open your lock and accept a boarding party, I will have to disable your ship further, with hazard to everyone. If you force me to do that, I hope your crew is buttoned up because you can expect to be depressurized,” Jeff said.
Rather than answer, the nose of the Constitution started a slow swing toward them.
Jeff moved aside. He didn’t think the Constitution had any forward pointing weapons, but he didn’t want to allow its primary axis to sweep them.
“April, review our videos of the Constitution maneuvering and leaving orbit, to see if the location of its thrusters is apparent in them,” Jeff requested.
The vessel made a full slow turn while April was researching that, then they fired the opposite set of thrusters on the nose to impart a spin at right angles to the first one. The ship was now tumbling in two planes.
“That has to be fun,” Otis said. “I’d probably throw up in my suit.”
“I can see the vapor in the videos and can identify the same ports fore and aft on the ship from here,” April reported.
“Deloris, standoff another couple of hundred meters to give April room to work. April, go ahead and cut with the laser sufficiently to disable their maneuvering thrusters. I’m releasing my board to let you use our thrusters to position us for shooting.”
It took time with the tumbling motion, but eventually, the rear thrusters were ragged holes. Then April started on the four front vents. She was burning out the second when the beam breached the propellant vessel for the nose thrusters and the explosion blew a huge notch in the side of the ship and bent what remained of the attached nose crooked.
“Oops,” April said.
“It could have been worse,” Jeff said.
“You boys can’t maneuver now. Are you ready to listen to reason and surrender?” Jeff broadcast. There was no reply, but with their drive disabled, they were screaming back to Earth on the radio about being attacked.
“Do you want me to burn their antennas off so we don’t have to listen to that crap?” April offered.
“Then they could say they tried to surrender and we wouldn’t let them,” Jeff said.
“There is that, but how are we going to stop their rotation?” April worried.
“I don’t know. How about if we have lunch and think it over?” Jeff said. “Deloris, if you want to stand down for a little, we’re taking a break and having a bite.”
“What about the Constitution? Are you just going to just leave it spinning there?”
“What am I supposed to do? That’s mostly what I want to think about, and I’m hungry and irritated. I need a sandwich and time to think. They put themselves in that position. Let them spin and I’ll think about it. People pay good money to go on a carnival ride like that. I’m not going to let Mackay or Otis risk themselves trying to board them in that condition. If you can think of anything, I’ll consider it. If we don’t come up with anything else. I may just break it up into small enough pieces for us to get control of, and salvage the parts we want.” He reached up and tapped his board.
April blinked and looked at him strangely. “You sent that out in the clear.”
“Did I? How careless. Even if they don’t want to talk, I presume they are still listening,” Jeff said.
“Is that psychological warfare?” April asked.
“Psychological warfare, the way they are tumbling, would be to describe my lunch as I enjoy it. I imagine right about now they are having second thoughts about putting themselves in that motion. I don’t think helping them regret it would matter. I doubt they have any way to stop it now, it’s all on us.”
April waited until Jeff finished his sandwich to try to talk business again.
“What are you thinking about?” was perhaps too general a question.
“I like egg salad a lot better with those pointy little striped seeds in it,” Jeff said.
“Caraway seeds. I like celery seeds myself, but they are all importado. I was thinking more about the Constitution,” April clarified.
“Well, we could shoot with our explosive shells at the end of the ship as it rotates towards us, hoping the explosion would neutralize some of the motion. It wouldn’t be a very precise way of doing it. We’d have to back off as far as we could and still have our guys not miss. It still would make the entire neighborhood very dangerous from the shrapnel flying every which way,” Jeff said.
“I was hoping we might recover the crew too,” April said.
“Another possibility would be to turn the rear of the ship to them and try to time some short burps from the drive to hit the ends as they come around,” Jeff said. “I fear that wouldn’t be much less destructive than artillery rounds. We might run out of ship to push against before we neutralize all the motion.”
“In exactly how big of a hurry are you?” Deloris asked from the other ship.
“Me?” Jeff considered that gravely, probably trying to imagine why she’d ask. “The Earthies have nothing to launch that could get out here in any reasonable time frame. If you can picture some sort of harpoon and reel or something, we can take a week to go build it and come back without worrying they will interfere. But those guys strapped in the Constitution won’t be alive in a day much less a week. I can tell already that April will be put out with me if I don’t come up with an impossible rescue for these guys. She’s very big on rescues.”
“I’m pretty sure I have a solution, but it will take me three or four hours to run and get some materials and return to use them. Is that satisfactory?” Deloris asked.
“Better than anything I’m coming up with, Jeff admitted. “Do tell us how.”
“I’ll run out to Jupiter to get a small snowball, a soft one if I can tell the difference. When we come back, I’ll approach and ease it into contact with them just like we brought the rock into contact with Heather’s Martian satellite, nice and slow. The ship will beat itself against the ice, each impact slowing its rotation. With a little luck, it won’t walk itself off the edge as it keeps advancing.”
“That’s brilliant,” Jeff praised her. “You have my support to try that. We’ll wait right here for you. If they have a lick of sense and decide to surrender and jump out of the airlock, we’ll pick them up. If not, we’ll try it your way when you return.”
“By now, they’ve been spinning so long I doubt they could unstrap and make it to the lock,” Deloris said. “I’ll hurry.”

Chapter 26
“Do you want to see if we can get any Earth news this far out?” April asked. “Since the Constitution stopped transmitting, I wonder how they are taking it?”
“Can you imagine they are doing anything but frothing at the mouth?” Jeff said. “I don’t care to upset myself but if you want to listen to it go ahead and deploy a high gain antenna. I’m sure you’ll get decent enough reception that way.”
April searched sources and listened for a long time.
“There’s not that much broadcast that radiates off into space,” April complained. “Most of it seems to be through satellites and in ground-based relays and fiber.”
“That makes sense,” Jeff said. “Normally, nobody is here where we are to listen. Any signal here is pure loss.”
After he thought about it for a time he added. “That’s to the good too. If any aliens hanging around listening, the less they hear our crazy neighbors the better.”
April sighed a few times and cut the feed when she’d had enough. Jeff expected her to share some of it, but she respected his wish to skip it.
Deloris mentioned three or four hours, but it was almost six hours before they heard from her. Nobody wanted to be the first to worry about it openly.
“Coming in from behind,” Deloris suddenly called on the radio. “You might give me a little more room,” she suggested.
“Moving laterally a kilometer,” Jeff said right away and used the thrusters.
“One more micro-jump and we’ll separate,” Deloris said. “I’m aiming for a three-kilometer closing.”
Jeff turned them a little and suddenly the snowball was visible.
“Sorry it took so long. We tried dragging one that broke up on us right away. The next we weren’t happy with how much we could get in the field. This one we carved a hole to back into with our drive and just left enough to sticking out to see where we are going and turn it with the nose thrusters. It’s awfully slow to turn too. We’re getting out of our ice cave before we get too close. My radar says we’ve just under a meter a second closing. That’s more than I wanted but it will have to do.
As she spoke the Hringhorni emerged from the ice and quickly moved to the side before it started braking. The snowball was more than half a sphere with the section from which the ship emerged darker and rougher. The absence of the vessel left a substantial pit on the front surface.
A meter a second might be too fast in Deloris’ estimate, but it was like watching honey drip waiting for contact. The Hringhorni braked to a stop on the opposite side of the spinning Constitution from them, safely positioned to watch with them.
For a moment it looked like the nose of the ship would swing into the pit, but it hit beside it. The bent section April almost detached did break off now, bouncing off into space. The snowball kept coming with no visible change in motion from the impact. The rear section pivoted down from the point of contact with the nose and impacted on the other side of the pit.
The whole vessel rebounded from the surface briefly but the snowball caught up with it and they struck again. This time the Constitution spun against the surface on its side, throwing off chunks of ice.
The spin took it over the pit and one end tipped in briefly but it rotated across and struck the other side. There was still enough energy there for it to lever over the far edge of the pit and bounce end to end, each one with less energy to rebound, until it briefly came to a rest against the ice. It didn’t bounce away because each impact deformed the ship and absorbed energy. In the end, it looked pretty beat up.
The snowball had acquired a tiny rotation from the impacts, and the pit slowly turned toward Dionysus’ Chariot, the Constitution slowly separating and drifting away at an angle. Deloris’ mission was successful. The ship had almost no rotation relative to them after beating itself against the ice.
“What do you guys think?” Jeff asked Mackay and Otis. “Can you board that successfully now without endangering yourselves?”
“I have no doubt we can,” Mackay answered readily, “but the question in my mind is can we do so without endangering the crew?
“You think they’d deactivate the lock?” April asked.
“On a military ship? I’d be shocked if it doesn’t automatically deny entry after every cycle unless you have a security device or a code. We can force it, but after tumbling so violently the crew may have opened their visors to vomit,” Mackay said.
“Don’t risk it,” April told Jeff.
“If they have a standard lock ours will cross-connect at right angles,” Deloris said. “They aren’t rolling fast enough now to damage us even if we bumped. It would be fussy getting the locks close enough to engage, but if I have Johnson take a camera down in the lock and talk me in, I can do it.”
“Hard connect to a damaged vessel with unknown internal conditions and military personnel who already refused orders to stand to? No. No way will I do that,” Jeff said. “There could be a toxic atmosphere or radioactives. The crew everybody is so sure are disabled may be waiting inside the lock with weapons.”
“I know you want the missiles,” April said. “What else? Did you intend to take the whole ship apart to examine the drives? Did you want to rip out their computers?”
“If they aren’t complete idiots the computers were purged once they lost their drive. I don’t care about their drive. I’d have gotten it to trade to Joel as a favor but I know ours is better and theirs will never catch up. I do want the warheads. If they can be removed fine. If not, Hringhorni should be able to fit the missiles in its hold whole.”
“You gave us an image of where the missiles are,” Mackay reminded him. “Let us go over and rip them out and you can drag this back and leave it at their orbital yard from which they launched. Let their people remove the crew themselves. Taking them prisoner would be more trouble than it’s worth anyhow.”
“You can get the missiles out without forcing the lock?” Jeff asked him.
“Two of us in power armor? Give us ten minutes and we can rip that ship in half by hand without even using an ax or Halligan.”
“I’ll buy that plan,” Jeff agreed. “Rip out the missiles and load them on Hringhorni. Then we’ll drag the wreck of the Constitution back and leave it at their facility.”
* * *
Mackay and Otis attached EV modules at hips and shoulders before going across to the Constitution. They had limited range but it was plenty since Jeff brought Dionysus’ Chariot back in close.
Mackay reached over and plugged an audio cord into Otis’ armor and muted his mic. “Don’t get carried away putting on a show for the bosses to record. I don’t want you hacking away and grabbing stuff trying to look scary and cut your suit or get snagged on a ragged piece. It’s still vacuum work, which means slow and thoughtful.”
“Not a problem,” Otis promised him. “This is so easy they could have sent one of us over and left the other to cover him with the cannon.”
“It might surprise you to know I’d rather not be working on a vessel a few meters away while you are blasting it with a cannon,” Mackay told him.
“Sometimes, I get the feeling you don’t trust me,” Otis said.
Mackay just ripped the cable out and gave Otis his sternest look.
“Going across now,” Mackay reported to Jeff.
They didn’t hurry. A meter every couple of seconds was fine. Jeff brought them within about twenty meters and sideways to the very slow end over end tumble the ship retained. They landed softly on all four and then slowly stood back up.
“They have sticky pads?” April asked. “I didn’t think they worked in vacuum.”
“These are new,” Jeff said. “They are infused with silicone fluid and have to be replaced or regenerated under pressure when they dry out.”
“By my display, we should be right about where your image shows the radiation sources,” Mackay said. “How does it look from there?”
“You are standing right about where they are,” Jeff agreed. “We have no idea what sort of launch tube they use or even if it has one or three individual ports to expel them.
“Let’s just go straight in,” Otis said and looked to Mackay for confirmation. When he got a tilt of the helmet and a verbal ‘go’, he swung the Halligan tool through a long arch to avoid breaking his boots loose from the hull. The spike went through the hull easily then he wrenched it upright. Planting his boot by it and pulling up on it stabilized him better than sticky boots alone could. He drew his ax with the other hand and started hacking a slit in the hull.
“I know it’s not our ship but it hurts to see it chopped like scrap metal,” April said.
“Think enemy ship,” Jeff said. “They are that, and you’d blow it to plasma with a missile if it came to a duel between them and you.”
Mackay joined in, cutting from the start of the slit Otis made at right angles. When they had an area cut on three sides, they folded the skin back by hand, severing ribs and braces as needed.
“There’s other machinery around them, unrelated to the missiles,” Mackay said. “We may have to cut some loose to reach where the data and command cables attach. The missile is inside a tube with ports for connectors, mounted on a pad like a shotgun wad. I see one other tube behind it and assume the third is spaced out symmetrically. They angle out and forward at about sixty degrees from the long axis of the ship. Each missile is in its own tube rather than feeding from a magazine.”
“That’s good design,” Jeff said. “A failure in one won’t keep the other two from launching. It’s more work for you. Can you extract them?”
“Yes, certainly, the question is how long it will take. Rather than cut them out sideways I think we need to detach the electrical connectors and pry open the hatch further forward on the hull. Let us do one and then you’ll know about how long the other two are going to take.”
“Go ahead. Is there anything we can do to help?” Jeff asked.
“Not you, but if you’d have Deloris ease the Hringhorni in close it will make loading them up easier. They are smaller than I expected, a bit over two meters, and nearly half that is the warhead. I see recesses with fasteners so we may be able to detach them.”
“Do you want Johnson to suit up and help?” Jeff suggested.
“In a conventional suit? I wouldn’t want him out here. If he wants to stay in his hold and help by strapping them down that would be great.”
“I’ll have Johnson transfer to the hold and then move in close,” Deloris said.
“This strut is in the way,” Otis said, “with no room to swing an ax.”
“Got it,” Mackay said, slipping what looked like hooked pruning shears over it. He just held it, not squeezing or pumping, so it was powered. It cut the composite strut easily. Another cut and the whole thing got tossed gently away.
“The cable terminations have break-away cable-ties. Pull them loose?” Otis asked.
“Nah, just cut the cable behind them,” Mackay ordered.
“OK, this is disconnected. It sits on a pusher pad and probably has a cold charge behind it like an air-bag to expel it. I see three shear pins to rip that off when it exits. I’ll pull those and it should float right up the tube.”
“Leave one,” Mackay said. “Let’s make sure the hatch is open before releasing it.”
“Figure the latch opens forward and is hinged to the rear?” Otis asked.
“Yeah, if you ever expected to fire them under acceleration,” Mackay agreed.
“Which first?”
“Neither. Pry across the middle of the hatch and see if it releases,” Mackay said.
The spike jammed in the crack and wrenched bent it up. The duckbill lifted it further but it just stretched and didn’t break. The other end of the Halligan was inserted until the claw came out the other side of the cover to give Otis some leverage against the hull. The hatch finally ripped off sailing off end over end, but it took so much force Otis pushed a dent in the hull under his feet.
“I’ll stay here,” Mackay said. “You go pull the last pin and gently push it to me.”
“Close enough?” Deloris asked.
Mackay twisted and looked over his shoulder. The open hold hatch was three meters away, with Johnson in the opening hanging on a take-hold. He’d have been nervous if he’d watched her approach that close. He noted with approval Johnson had a safety line on and a cargo net strung midway across the hold. The open hold was not only close, it was in direct line for the missile to go straight across into the hold. Mackay wondered if she was that good, or if it was a lucky accident.
“On the move,” Otis called. Indeed it was, but only about a meter every twenty seconds. That was plenty fast for moving anything this massive in zero g. The nose was a hemisphere, not streamlined for an atmosphere at all. Mackay resisted any temptation to touch it. It was aimed so well all he could do would be to misdirect it.
When it reached the hold opening Johnson did push on the nose of it. starting it to turn. Mackay didn’t understand why at first but watched as it hit the net at an angle and the rear pivoted from the front contact point until the entire side contacted the net.
Johnson grabbed the edge of another net Mackay hadn’t seen and jumped to the far side of the hold, fastening the new net before the missile stretched the first one out and rebounded. The missile bounced between the two nets a dozen times, the rocking motion slowly damping with each cycle. Then, when it was almost still, Johnson folded the edge of the rear net over the missile and eased it down to the deck.”
Mackay didn’t realize Otis had joined him and was watching too.
“Johnson, that was pretty slick,” Mackay complimented him.
“I’ve handled a little freight. You pick up tricks,” he said modestly. “I see normal fasteners here. Do you guys want to keep the whole thing or separate the warhead? I have a tool kit here in the hold and could do it while you are getting the next one.”
“Let’s keep one booster after we separate it, but all the warheads,” Jeff said. “Are you guys up to recovering all three? I know this is a long shift for vacuum work.”
“It is, and we’re already tired, but that only took thirty-five minutes,” Mackay said. “We have stim and the powered suits make it easier. If Deloris can shift around and make the other two transfers as easy to do, we’ll be headed home in an hour and a half.”
“Yeah, no problem. I can shift around to the other hatches. Are you getting any signs of life from inside the ship?” she asked.
Otis shook his head no. “We haven’t felt any motion,” Mackay said.
“We still haven’t heard anything on the radio,” Jeff added.
“OK, let’s finish it up,” Mackay said. He was pleased to find Deloris was able to position the Hringhorni as well for the other missiles. Indeed, she got so close on the last one that Mackay tensed and got ready to jump clear before she brought it to a stop.
* * *
“How do we do this in reverse?” Deloris asked Jeff
“I have it follow the same program to a theoretical point near their station. Since there is no need to be as close, I’m allowing a full kilometer.”
Deloris nodded. She liked the extra room.
“When we arrive, we can’t jump out until we move far enough away from the Constitution that it won’t be in our jump fields. There’s no way to do that as fast as I’d like. We’ll accelerate six seconds at two gs and jump out.”
“Six seconds is a long time,” Deloris objected.
“We could drop them off some distance away and tell them to go get them,” Jeff said, “but if they need medical attention that would be terrible PR. Only an automated system could fire on us in six seconds and we’ll be too close for most such systems to accept us as a sudden target.”
“That puts us how far away?” Deloris asked. “How far do we need to be?”
“A bit over three hundred meters,” Jeff said. “The problem is we haven’t mapped out how far the jump field extends. It seems to depend on the way the mass is distributed how it pulls it along, and we have no data on anything positioned slightly ahead of us. It’s going to take a lot of experimentation to get all that data for a single ship, much less two or three acting together.”
“OK then,” Deloris allowed reluctantly, “Let’s experiment again.”
* * *
After six seconds of acceleration, they jumped so the Moon suddenly appeared close off the forward ports. The Constitution, somewhat shot, shortened, bent, and torn open amidships was left behind them near its original station. The radio message they transmitted three jumps back from dropping it off would just be arriving at the station. It would be a shame if they left it floating nearby and nobody looked or noticed it.
“We’re going to be subjected to an unending barrage of foolishness,” Jeff predicted.
“Just leave our names out of it,” Mackay requested. “People show up periodically wanting to assassinate you. I’m sure we can deal with that, but I don’t want to.”
“I’ll be careful of that,” Jeff promised. “I imagine you are ready to shower and decompress. April and I have both experienced being cooped up in suits for too long at a time and know what it is like.
“It’s getting pretty ripe in here,” Otis volunteered. “It’s going to take more than a bag of No-Stink-Um. It’ll take a couple of days with an ozone generator, then vacuum.”
“I’m just dropping you two off at Home. We’re immediately going to the Moon,” Jeff said. “I don’t want to be responsible for having nukes I didn’t build at Home. We’ll disassemble at least one on the Moon to see what makes them tick. If it goes off on the surface outside Central, it’s no big deal. At Home, it also might tempt them to try to recover them.”
“It will be a big deal for you if you are doing the disassembly,” Otis warned.
“A solar says they have no booby traps but the authorization software, and that to prevent detonation, not force it,” Jeff said.
“Do I collect from your estate if you lose? Wouldn’t that look tacky,” Otis said.
Jeff didn’t understand that so he ignored it.
“I’m going to dock at Home rather than make a long and complicated explanation to traffic control that we are just dropping you off at the north terminal. Do you want a cart called to the elevators and is the Bofors unloaded and safe?”
“A cart would be welcome,” Mackay said. “A freight cart because we won’t fit a regular seat in this armor. The Bofors has the expended round in the chamber and was set not to auto-load from the magazine. I suggest you leave it that way because we have no rack or container for the shell casing.”
“That works for me,” Jeff agreed. “You’ll find a little extra in your account for the long suit hours and extra EV hazard.”
“Thanks, we won’t turn that down,” Mackay agreed.
“We’ll wait to call for undocking until you tell us you are safely inside.”
After a few minutes, Mackay called.
“We’re in and safe, but be aware there were three reporters with cameramen waiting at your dock door to interrogate you. When you do come back, I think they will still be waiting. At least if you come back in Dionysus’ Chariot. I suspect they know the ship by name.”
“Joy, I had no idea there were three Earthie reporters on Home now. We used to get one once in a while and they didn’t stay that long. It’s too soon for any of them to have lifted from Earth in response to our intercept,” Jeff figured.
“One of the teams might be an independent stringer, but the one pair was from The Mouse with Disney logos pasted on their clothing and gear,” Mackay said. “The other was Australian. They had neat khaki uniforms with logos and PRESS on the back.”
“They didn’t stop you and give you a hard time?” April asked.
“Your dock hatch is marked with the ship name on the screen and the occupied light on. We came in from the maintenance lock down the tube and I don’t think they connected us with you. They all backed up and looked intimidated by the armor. I know they took video as we passed, but I’d bet they just saw it as local color.”
“Thanks, Mackay. They’ll be disappointed when we undock,” Jeff said. “I’m calling for clearance now.” He didn’t sound in the least sorry.
* * *
“Do you want a feed of the Earthie’s reactions to your capture?” Chen asked them before they even reached the Moon.
“We’re tired, Chen. I don’t trust myself to respond appropriately until I’m rested,” April said. “Queue them up and I’ll look at them after breakfast. The only reaction I want to be awakened for is if we’re under attack. Put any official response from the North Americans at the head of the list. I’m not much interested in what media people think.”
“North Americans and then I’ll list friends and allies,” Chen promised.
The next morning came early because Jeff and April both had gene mods that reduced their need for sleep a couple of hours a night. Jeff begged off and told April to tell him anything he really needed to know. “Why put both of us in a foul mood?” he asked. Heather didn’t seem eager to hear the reactions either, although the challenge was directly to her law.
“OK, one more cup of coffee, and I’ll look at Chen’s report,” April said. “No point in putting it off any longer. I know it’s just going to irritate me.” She put in earbuds out of respect for Jeff not caring to hear it.
“No official communication is reported to have been received by anyone at Home or Central. No statements in commercial media attributed to North American officials have been directed at Home or Central.
“The Senator from West Ontario, Robert Hodge, on Brad and Suzie’s Morning Show (Highly watched show. Details in attached files.) stated it was an act of war and the USNA should respond by declaring war with Home. Suzie Bradshaw the co-host asked him if the USNA wasn’t still at war with Home from before this incident? Hodge replied it was in doubt that carried over from previous administrations and it should be affirmed and declared again based on this act.”
“Until they really mean it?” April mused aloud. Jeff gave her a look for that.
“I’m not sure the Senator distinguishes between Home and Central or is at all aware of the fact that they are separate nations with different governments,” Chen said. “It is worth noting the Senator does not belong to any space related committees.
“China, or significant separatist regions in China, have made no official statements.
“There are no official pronouncements from the rest of the Far East or Africa.
“In the Near East and European nations, Turkey condemns the Space Pirates and considers this simply an extension of previous lawless behavior.
“No official statements have been made by European Union members.
“As far as the media. More European news outlets have carried stories on the intercept and seizure than American sources. The difference being the tone of the European stories is one of concern and questions and the American news outlets are using very strong words and condemning the action unambiguously. I’ve condensed this report as much as possible being aware you have access to the same media feeds and can tailor your own keyword searches.”
April dropped a brief text to Chen thanking him.
“Anything?” Jeff asked, seeing she was done.
“Not official. One powerless Senator posturing. The usual media blah, blah, blah. I have no idea why but Turkey has always seemed to hate us.”
Jeff nodded and went back to his own pad.
“Think over what you will say to the reporters,” Heather suggested. “I suspect this story is big enough they will be watching for your return even if you delay a week. The North Americans and their media are probably confused why you aren’t shouting your versions of events to counteract anything they say.”
“Why aren’t you blessed with them here?” Jeff wondered.
“I suspect because there are very few monarchies left. The media are uncomfortable with them. Even the ones where they are largely ceremonial and kept isolated behind security. They associate an absolute monarch with the ability to say: “Off with his head.” The fact I hold court with a weapon at hand in front of me probably doesn’t help. Home seems a democracy they think they understand, and much safer to visit.”
“I care very little what they are going to say. In the past, it’s been contradictions, lies, and nonsense. I care more for what they can do and the will to do it,” Jeff said.
“Knowing that, it’s better to let them speak first so you have something to work with to debunk it,” April said. “I guarantee they’ll give you plenty to work with.”
“I agree,” Heather said. “Wait and let them spout off first.”
Chen called back before lunch.
“The Secretary of State says this was a peaceful mission of exploration, headed out of the Solar System on a heading that took it nowhere near the Moon or Home and presented no threat to spacers. That the crew is in rough shape because the ship was destabilized and they were subject to prolonged tumbling. The file is attached, but he did not specifically blame Central or Home, and did not name Jeffrey or April, neither did he condemn you with terms like piracy.”
“Thank you, Chen. Do you have any suggestions?” April asked.
“It’s beyond my pay grade,” Chen insisted. “I would not respond to anything from them unless they directed it to me by name. I hope that never happens.”
“I can understand that. He didn’t name us or call out our nation except indirectly, to disclaim any threat, did he?”
Chen took that for a rhetorical question, but nodded.
“Thank you for keeping us informed. We’ll decide now if we should reply and how,” April told him and disconnected.
“It’s your edict that’s being enforced,” April reminded Heather. “Do you want us to make any response or ignore them?”
“I don’t seem to be to the forefront of their attention. Like Chen, I’m content to stay that way. There are advantages to being something of a mystery. You both have better known public personas. I’m happy to have both of you represent me as spox, but you should determine who will speak rather than cede the power to the newsies who they can question. The primary spox can always direct a question to the partner. Which of you should be first? If you play good cop – bad cop, should the heavy lead or be held back to scare them?”
“Lead with the hard guy. Jeff is the Butcher of Jiuquan Chinese grandmothers use to terrify their children into obedience,” April said. “I’m just a child with a pocket phone when I try to put the muscle on the North American military.”
“After Vandenberg, they may start paying more attention to you,” Jeff suggested, “but I’ll agree to take the honors to speak first.”
“Then you two might as well head back to Home. Mackay said there were three sets of reporters and videographers there waiting for you. With a little luck, none of them have gone home and they’ll provide an appropriate indirect back channel to North America without us needing to acknowledge we were even aware the Secretary of State spoke.”
“I won’t read Chen’s file of his news conference. The summary was sufficient and I can honestly say I haven’t watched it,” April said.
“I’ll file an early flight plan for Dionysus’ Chariot for the morning,” Jeff said. “No reason to delay by taking a commercial flight and making a spectacle for the other passengers trying to disembark.”
“A spectacle?” Heather got a slow smile. “You dressed up for our lunch with the crew of the Hringhorni. Do you still have those outfits here? Give them a show.”
“Sure, but you don’t dress like that to pilot a shuttle,” April said.
“No, you don’t, but how do the Earthie’s picture you?”
“I think most of them are stuck on my image in all black and looking even younger,” April said. “Most of the interviews since then caught us at the cafeteria or coming in on a shuttle dressed casually and for comfort traveling. I seriously doubt any but a few space nuts ever find their way to “What’s Happening” or the various gossip sites that would have pix of us at a club. Why should we care?”
“For Earthies how you present yourself is who you are. You’ll never see an important politician or an industrialist with power and authority in shorts and a t-shirt. Even if they take their tie off and roll their shirt sleeves up it is a parody of a working man and their audience knows that. This is a chance to look different where they won’t kill the video because it doesn’t fit the narrative. Besides, what will the people on Home think when they see you getting off your ship looking like that?”
April looked amused. “They’ll figure we’re playing the Earthies big-time.”
“Exactly, and you’ll spend another night here,” Heather said with approval. “You did just get here after all.”

Chapter 27
“With all our friends and your paid snoops, nobody warned us there will be newsies waiting to harass us when we get off the ship,” Jeff said once they docked.
“Why would we need to be warned? Our friends are doing enough not to warn them.”
Jeff looked her over. She had on soft black slacks with a ribbon stirrup under each foot and a white linen blouse with a narrow collar. The magnificent cufflinks with which France and Mssr. Broutin had gifted her adorned the cuffs. Her jacket was a very light gray, almost silvery, with a Chesterfield collar and the sleeves short enough to show off the cuff links. It looked very conservative even by Earth mores, and expensive.
“Do I look OK? This works in zero g, but not very well. It needs gravity for the jacket to hang right. Yours is snug and fitted enough to work much better.”
“You look good enough to eat,” Jeff assured her. “Just keep the jacket buttoned.”
She had a diamond necklace from another outfit that went well with the cufflinks but would flop around and look ridiculous without gravity to make it hang right. It might sail off over her head at worst.
Jeff solved that by grabbing a can of the sticky stuff used to renew the bottom of luggage to make it stick to the deck or on the seat of your pants to keep you in a seat in zero g without strapping in. He turned the necklace upside down and sprayed the back. That gave it just enough tackiness to adhere to her blouse with most of it held down by the jacket. After some thought, he sprayed some inside the waist of her jacket.
“Perfect,” Jeff announced and sent his view from his spex to hers. She moved around and stretched her arms watching what it would do.
“Good enough, let’s go give them a show.”
The news crews had enough sense not to crowd the hatch or shine bright lights at them. They didn’t, however, have the sense to not yell questions over each other.
Jeff just stopped and braced his feet apart on short sticky boots and stared at them in disgust. The image he was giving them was quite enough to catch the public interest back home. While April was very conservative, he was gaudy. His shirt was chocolate brown with golden planets and stars, and his coat bronze with a sheen of lines and crosses of that caught the light as he moved. His trousers were light brown almost gray with black satin stripes down the sides. A matched pair of laser pistols just barely poked out from under the jacket on each side. When they finally ran down, he looked at April with to share his contempt, and back to them.
“Are you all motherless so nobody ever taught you any manners? I’ll speak to one of you at a time if you can abide the others having a turn. If you can’t be polite you can all go to the Devil and I’ll go off home.”
“Pick one, please,” The lady with no logo on her blouse requested.
“You first, then the Mouse, then the Aussie. Play nice and I may go another round.”
“Beth Regis from Eastern News. Is it true that Home intercepted the USNA extra-solar explorer?” she asked.
“No, I did so on behalf of the Sovereign of Central. The order to keep armed ships inside the L1 limit is her law. Home and Central generally support each other, but they were neither consulted in this nor was their permission sought. Do I need to explain who my sovereign is?” Jeff asked.
“No, the Queen of the Moon,” Beth answered.
“That’s the popular expression, but she is only sovereign over her own claimed areas and there are other domains on the moon to which she makes no claim.”
The Disney News fellow looked incensed when Jeff answered Beth twice. He must have thought she sneaked an extra question in somehow.
“Why did Disney go back to the stupid mouse ears for their news logo?” Jeff asked him before he could say anything. “The castle was bad enough but the mouse ears lack seriousness and dignity for a news organization. Unless the message is that the product is a docudrama, not hard news.”
“I’m Bart Pollard for Disney. You’d have to ask corporate. I think people trust the Mouse. I’d wear the hat with ears if they wanted,” he said refusing to be baited. His shrug almost lifted him off the deck. “Why would you attack a ship engaged in scientific work? And do you intend to deny star travel to the Earth nations?”
“It’s a USNA Space Force ship,” Jeff said just slow enough to imply he might have trouble following. “It wasn’t simply a civilian ship of exploration like the French sent out. It had three long-range stand-off nuclear weapons. The sort that projects an x-ray beam from the explosion. I shudder to think what it could mean if they used those by error on an alien ship and started an interstellar war. That sort of weapon is way beyond what would be needed for self-defense.”
“They implied it was strictly a scientific explorer,” Bart said.
“Did you ask?” Jeff wondered. “I’ve noticed some reporters do that now and again. Though I admit it isn’t always welcome.”
“Do you have any proof of that to offer?” he asked.
“That’s your third question,” Jeff pointed out. “I’ll answer it, but the Australian gentleman has been most restrained allowing you to go on. I intend to let him question me next. We have good enough technology to remote sense the weapons. I certainly don’t intend to explain the details of our advanced sensors to you. I have video of our hired security people ripping the weapons out of the Constitution you may have. I know the Chinese have some of the damned things too, but I’m not sure about other nations. Of course, our video could have been computer-generated or staged. You can’t tell with today’s tech. They could be hollow props too. But if you wish, you are welcome to come back to the Moon with us and inspect them yourself. They are stored quite a few kilometers down where it is unlikely any weapon could reach them. I don’t know if you’ve ever disassembled a nuclear weapon, you could supply your own tool kit and detectors or use ours. I’d suggest really good isolation gear. Plutonium is nasty stuff. There is also the problem that your government people might get testy about you seeing the guts of their secret weapon.”
Jeff looked a question at him.
“I’ll pass on that, thank you.”
“What do you want to know?” Jeff asked the fellow from Victoria Vantage.
“I’m Leo Champion. What gives you the right to tell us where we can travel off Earth, armed or not?”
“Two reasons,” Jeff said. “We live here. Both North America and China tried to tell us where they would allow us to park our habitats. My sovereign blew an entire fleet of Chinese ships out of her sky that were trying to enforce that on behalf of the UN. You might have noticed the UN has also fallen on hard times over that. North America is still by their word at war with us. They have certainly taken war shots at me as recently as a couple of years ago. That’s why my fellow peer and partner April bombarded Vandenberg. You can’t really continue in a state of war and shoot at people when the urge strikes, but expect they won’t shoot back.
“We can tell you where you may take armed ships because we can stop you. That simple. Isn’t that evident from the fact we intercepted the most advanced star capable USNA Space Force vessel and disarmed it? They could not defend themselves from us.”
“One more question?” Leo requested.
“Sure, that will put you on a par with the Mouse,” Jeff said. “Then by rights, Ms. Regis should have another chance to be fair about it.”
“Isn’t your invoking the risk of provoking aliens rather fanciful if not flat out science fiction?” Leo Champion asked. He didn’t quite sneer.
“What else was the purpose of carrying long range ship killer missiles if not the fear of aliens?” Jeff reasoned. “They certainly were no use against us and if they found aliens with tech as advanced as ours or better, they’d have simply provoked them. In any case, we’ve seen both active alien starships and wrecks,” Jeff said.
“I don’t believe you,” Leo said
“I don’t care,” Jeff replied. “Ms. Regis, have you any sensible questions?”
“Would you try to negotiate this divide with North America if they came to the table in good faith to discuss it?”
“I’m only a peer and spox to my sovereign. I’d have to take such a major matter that impinges on her justice to her. But as you saw today, I’m not unapproachable. I’m in the public com directory, as is April here. No official has expressed any desire for such a discussion. I suspect that to treat with us would be seen as conferring some aura of legitimacy in their minds. It’s rather hard to talk to people with whom you are still exchanging fire, so we’d need at least a cease-fire. I’m not sure where we’d both feel safe to meet for such a discussion. Certainly not North America. The last time our banking friend Irwin Hall made an emergency landing in North America they arrested him. The different factions of the government don’t even coordinate, so we can’t trust them to even have a policy they’ll consistently follow.”
“But you wouldn’t rule it out?” Beth asked.
“No, I’m sorry, I thought I made that clear. It would just be extremely difficult.”
“Is your animus for Earthies a barrier?” Beth threw out uninvited.
“Why no,” Jeff said surprised. “I don’t particularly like Earthies, but I do business with people who I don’t like all the time. It’s only necessary they fulfill their contracts honestly. Requiring friendship and camaraderie would rather limit business.”
“Surely, that is sufficient for them to pound out some copy,” April said.
“I believe so, Dear,” Jeff agreed. His eyes thanked her for tearing him away.
* * *
“Damn him, for sounding so reasonable,” the Secretary of Defense snarled.
“How are the crew doing?” the National Security Advisor asked.
“The commander still can’t walk unassisted. They think he may have suffered a small stroke in the brain stem from neck compressions. His number two is going to be retired. He may never recover mentally from the ordeal and tells anybody who will listen how he will kill his commander if they ever let him see the man. He repeatedly advised against tumbling the ship on two axes to keep the Homies from boarding. He will have private nursing care provided, that doubles as quiet security.”
“Singh didn’t deny they destabilized the Constitution,” the NSA said.
“Why would he?” the Secretary asked. “The reporters didn’t bring it up and the claim never made any sense.”
“State is making noises about holding talks with the Moon Queen,” the SoD said.
“Never going to happen,” the NSA said.
“I agree. It will be sabotaged somehow. Just putting one person in the delegation who will queer the whole deal will do. The head of the Space Force perhaps. He’d oppose any deal that doesn’t somehow involve the Spacers surrendering to us even though they obviously have the upper hand. He’s delusional.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. The Moon Queen would never consent to be personally involved unless she sat across the table from the President as her equal, and was accorded all the honors and respect due to any head of state,” the NSA said. “The other two have always dealt with the public and she has remained in the background. I suspect that makes people underestimate her.”
“Speaking of the President, how does he regard this?” The SoD asked.
“Who knows? I spoke to him last night and he indicated the trout are biting like they’ve never fed before, and summer in Canada is glorious, even if you or I would regard it as God-forsaken scrub infested with black flies.”
The Secretary just grimaced. “Talk about delusional. The Queen is as delusional as Singh. She’s a child. Nobody takes her seriously playing the queen.”
“She takes herself most seriously. Perhaps you never read those briefings supplied you, but she shares personal control of weapons systems that can reduce any first-world nation to third world beggar status. She’s twenty-something but that child isn’t stupid enough to let you get all three of them in the same room. Not unless it is her own safe room deep enough in the Moon you can’t reach it with a nuke. The Chinese tried.”
“So she’d send who? That Singh fellow we just watched?” the Secretary asked. “That might kill any deal as well as sending Dawson, Head of the Space Force. I don’t know much about that little twerp’s personality, but I can see arrogance written all over him.”
Or you could just look in a mirror, the NSA thought behind his smile.
* * *
“You didn’t jump in and add anything,” Jeff said in the lift.
“You were handling it just fine,” April said.
“I would have welcomed a sarcastic snicker or asking how we could trust the Earthies again after they proved false so many times before,” Jeff said.
“No, you played it just right. You left the burden on them to match your level of decorum and reasonableness. If they manage, it will just kill them to act that way. I am glad you made it clear we won’t be visiting North America. I just wouldn’t do it.”
“To make any diplomatic overture, they’d have to acknowledge Central and Heather as a legitimate government. I think that’s as likely as them dropping the dollar and adopting the solar as their national currency.”
* * *
“I can’t see any downside to it,” Diana said. “All either of them can say is no, and no matter how they phrase it or excuse it that will look terrible to much of the world. You and the Hawaiian Republic look golden even if both of them refuse.”
“Now if I can only persuade my own people,” Nick said.
Diana looked up at him sharply. “Nick, sweetie, I don’t give you advice about your work very often,” she started.
“No, no, I was asking,” Nick said. “I’d welcome a deeper analysis than just whether the basic idea has merit.”
Diana nodded. “The idea of a peace conference is Nobel Prize winning good. The danger from all your fellow officials is not a lack of cooperation but that they will say it is the province of their department, squeeze you out, and take all the credit. Within a week of providing the idea, you will be deeply buried in the footnotes of history.”
“Ah, I can see that happening. What does it have to do with business? Business is just what pays for everything,” Nick said. “We get no respect.”
Diana smiled. “Don’t ask permission. Don’t ask for help,” she advised. “Just do it.”
* * *
“I wonder if I might ask a favor,” Nick said on com. The call was unexpected to Jeff.
A five-second lag gave one time to think. Jeff was starting to see that as so advantageous he wished it was a feature of local calls.
“I guess I owe you after kidnapping you,” Jeff said. He wouldn’t have dared tease him about it if he wasn’t sure Nick didn’t hold that view. “At least they didn’t fire you.”
“At my level, they explain they no longer have full confidence in you, and politely ask for your resignation,” Nick said. “They only fire you if you are a stubborn ass about it and so sure you are in the right you make them fire you as a public spectacle. I understand it’s about the equivalent of asking for written orders in the military. You have to be quite confident the matter will embarrass them more in the end.
“But I do want to propose something risky for my career. I’d like to arrange a Hawaiian meeting between you, or whoever Heather wants to send, and a spox for North America. To talk out how to prevent another conflict like just occurred with the Constitution. It would give me more confidence to publicly propose the idea to know at least you would accept the invitation. Diana doesn’t think it would reflect badly on me if you both declined, but I’m not sure about that.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Jeff asked.
“For the noble betterment of humanity and my love of peace?” Nick said.
Jeff just looked at him. A long time with the round trip five-second lag. If he couldn’t be more forthcoming than that, Jeff would be afraid to trust him as an ally.
“Well, you are a trading partner, and I’d like to get a weekly shuttle service going. You might be better disposed to do that if I can make things easier for you. Also, if they accept you as a legitimate government worthy of talking to, aren’t they tacitly acknowledging the same about us as a third party to arrange the talks?”
“I’d consider expanding shuttle service,” Jeff agreed. “There would have to be better security arrangements after the attack we experienced at Honolulu. Your scheme also assumes there will be some trace of human decency and gratitude on their part.”
“If you’re going to sit and talk across the table at them like that there’s no point in doing this. Do I have to get you a cheat sheet of diplomatic expressions that damn the opposition to hell in words they can still post in a community news site?”
“No, I speak more freely with you. I just had an interview yesterday with three Earthie news teams. I managed to be fairly polite to them. If you search you can probably find them posted.” Jeff made a face… “Except for the Mouse team. I did give him a little grief about the old logo coming back. They went from a stupid logo to an idiotic one. If you think you can lure a North American official of sufficient rank to be meaningful, I’ll talk to them. We have a video of our intercept. That’s what I was doing this morning, editing the long boring parts out where nothing happens and a few blunt exchanges I’d rather they didn’t hear. I’m thinking of releasing it so people have a clearer idea about what really happened. I offered it up and nobody jumped on it. Maybe they didn’t take me seriously. I went ahead and edited it if you want a copy.”
“Releasing something like that without their government’s approval can be dangerous. My question is, will that work for or against you?” Nick asked.
“Who knows? I never can figure out what will upset people,” Jeff admitted. “I’ll have to ask April and Heather. They advise me on social things.”
“Would I be out of line to ask to preview it?”
“I don’t see what that can hurt. You’ve flown in Dionysus’ Chariot so nothing you see will be any surprise or secret. How it actually works can’t be reverse-engineered from just watching it fly. I’d ask you not to release it independently before us now.”
“I can agree to that,” Nick promised.
“Fine, besides April and Heather, you can tell me what you think about releasing it. Your different viewpoint might be valuable. I’ll start the file now. It’s fairly big.”
Jeff disconnected without specifically saying goodbye. He was a bit odd.
* * *
It wasn’t a high priority alert, but when Chen called all three of them outside the normal early brief it got their attention. His manner said it was important too.
“I think you should listen to Jan directly on this rather than getting it from me second-hand,” Chen said. “He has far more assets in the West than me.”
“Of course, you will stay on the call too won’t you?” Jeff requested.
“Certainly. I want to hear your response,” Chen said.
“I’ve had three separate sources quietly warn me that the North Americans are discussing going back to active war with Home and Central over the L1 rule. They say it’s worth taking the damage now because it won’t be any cheaper in the future. None of them were in positions of power or command the last time North America actually engaged in hostilities with Home. Neither were any in command when Heather dealt with China. It’s history to them, not current events. The disturbing thing is, each report named a different official. One is a hawk, and two are a conspiracy, but when you have three talking the same theme it’s consensus. Worse, I had a report of them leaking the same thing to allies. I’d take that as prepping them for possible action early enough to get feedback on how it would be accepted. I’d take this seriously. I’m pretty sure none of them know I work for you.”
“Why would they think they can prevail against us after what we did to the Constitution?” April asked.
“They aren’t thinking in terms of ship actions,” Jan said. “So they can convince themselves that’s irrelevant. They imagine if they barrage us with enough missiles only one has to get through. The current generation always thinks their predecessors were bumbling idiots and incompetents. The politicians think the military always exaggerates the risks and the military thinks the politicians have no idea how uncertain any military operation will always be.”
“And for Home that’s true,” Jeff admitted. “Though it would be suicide.”
“I suppose if they kept dropping enough of them, they could eventually dig us out,” Heather admitted. “We have to come up sometime.”
“This morning I was talking with Nick Naito in Hawaii,” Jeff said. “He was asking if we’d attend and negotiate if he sponsored a peace conference between North America and us. Eventually, if we can find a safe place among the stars, I’d agree we don’t need to deal with Earth anymore. But for now, I think we do, and this gives us a better opportunity to do so in a public venue. All of them, not just the North Americans, are much more constrained in how they can respond to us with the world watching instead of in a private conference or on com. How do you feel about that?”
He addressed everybody but was looking at the com and Heather.
“If we keep visiting Earth, sooner or later they are going to manage to kill us.”
“What April said,” Heather agreed from the com.
“Is sitting quietly and seeing if they have the nerve to go for a total victory less of a risk than talking to them?” Jeff asked.
“No,” Heather admitted after consideration. “Talking, we should get some early indication it is going to fail. The other way our only indication might be incoming fire.”
“Unless they pull a Pearl Harbor on us,” April said.
At Heather’s raised eyebrow she explained: “Surprise attack on the US naval base in Hawaii in the First Atomic War.”
“Yes, I can see them doing that,” Heather said and looked gravely serious. “I want you to plan a response to that. Even if it is a reply from the grave, I want to know North America will cease to exist as a first-world nation and even in a long recovery will not rise again as a single entity. Can you do that?”
“Me?” April asked.
“You. Jeff is not bloody-minded enough to utterly devastate them. I want Jeff to talk to them. He’s sufficiently uninhibited to tell them to their face he’ll kill them, but you’d do it. There’s still an element of Earth Think that imagines men are all aggression and women intrinsically nicer. They never heard my Grandma say ‘Bless their Hearts’, as a curse. I would not threaten them with what they can’t properly fear. That would just be baiting them to their destruction.”
“If it looks like we are gone I don’t have to save anything for another adversary,” April reasoned. “I can dump everything on them from both our system and the Home militia. I’d do the reverse of our previous bombardment that was meant for propaganda value and show. This would systematically remove their utilities and supply trains. The suburbs of the big cities and the core where all the com cables and command structures reside. From fifty degrees north to the tip of the Baja and Key West will remove eighty percent of their population and maybe seventy percent of their industry,” April said. “Mexico isn’t worth hitting. They seem clueless to the fact Texas is going to own them in a decade. The Texans and Quebecois can divide the broken land between them over the next generation.”
Jeff looked horrified. “You already had the rough plan worked out.”
“I know you don’t like the expression, but it’s all obvious,” April insisted.
“Make three or four plans,” Heather insisted, “in varying severity.”
“What do you expect me to get from them to avert this?” Jeff asked.
“You drive as hard a bargain as I do,” Heather insisted. “I don’t intend to micro-manage you by com. Get us the best deal you can, that will buy us some more time to find an extra-solar refuge, and we’ll live with it.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Jeff promised.
* * *
“Come look at this!” Nick called to Diana.
“I thought Jeff gave that to you on the condition you keep it secret?”
“He gave it to me based on agreeing not to release it. I’m not. I’m not offering you a copy and I’m not sending it to the news services. I’m not even showing it to any of my government unless he tells me that’s OK. But you have to see this.”
“OK, though I’d think a space battle should be pretty boring. Just dots on a screen and lots of waiting without much real action. I know it isn’t like in movies or airplanes,” Diana said, swooping her hands around to illustrate.
“Intercept program starts in twenty seconds,” Jeff said.
Suddenly, there was a long slim ship closer alongside at the port where the Hringhorni had been visible. They moved forward beside it a little as the ship picked up a small difference in velocity.
The scene opened from April’s view looking across at Jeff and a view of Hringhorni visible out the port beyond him.
“Constitution, this is Jeffrey Singh in command of the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot, acting as a cutter for the Kingdom of Central,” Jeff declared on the emergency and ship frequencies. “You are in violation of the L1 limit imposed on armed ships. You are ordered to cut your drive and stand to immediately.”
“Yep, that’s Jeff,” Diana said. “He might as well be ordering pizza he’s so excited.”
“Why doesn’t the North American tell him to buzz off?” Diana asked after his prolonged silence. “I’d think he’d be objecting a lot more.”
“Who knows?” Nick said. “They’re military. Sometimes they get stupid narrow orders that don’t allow them to use any initiative at all.”
“Oh my goodness. It’s just right there,” Diana said. “That close can’t be safe.”
Nick giggled, highly amused.
“What? Don’t get all snarky with me. What’s funny?”
“Just remembering our ride with him,” Nick said. “I don’t think safe is even a consideration, and April is certainly no better.”
“Yeah, but I could hit that ship with a rock and I don’t have a great arm. Wow, what kind of gun do they have that shoves the whole ship sideways like that?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “You can ask Jeff next time we see him. Big enough to blow chunks out the other side of the Constitution. You notice it didn’t take two shots?”
“How can they stand being twirled around like that?” Diana asked. “Do I understand correctly they did that to themselves? I’d be puking in a minute.”
“Yep, that’s what I got too,” Nick said, “I think it was to prevent Jeff’s people from going across in suits. Wait and see what they ended up doing.”
After Deloris volunteered to go get a snowball, Jeff came on the screen breaking the fourth wall and announced that nothing happened for hours. He specifically mentioned there wasn’t any communication in that time from the Constitution, and if the media wanted to sit through it, he’d provide it.
They watched the ship batter itself against the snowball until most of its tumble was removed after Deloris returned.
“That’s a multibillion-dollar ship they’re hacking up,” Nick noted when they finally boarded the Constitution.
“You’d think it would be a little harder,” Diana said. “They seem to be doing it in slow-motion, but their speech is normal. The video isn’t slowed down is it?”
“I understand that’s just the way you work in zero g. You don’t get carried away and move fast or without thinking unless you want to get hurt.”
“So what do you think?” Nick asked when the video was done.
“Other than what I said when it was running?”
“Yes, Jeff gave it to me wanting my perspective on releasing it. What do you think? Would it hurt or help his cause to send it to the news outlets?”
“Honestly, I don’t think anything will help. I expect them to send people who won’t be open to any agreement. The corollary to that is nothing can hurt either. I think you will look good for trying to be the peacemaker no matter if their negotiator breaks out in fisticuffs with Jeff. I noticed you didn’t ask about that.”
“But will he just be negotiating with Jeff?” Nick asked. “Won’t his women have a hand in it even if it is behind the scenes?”
“And their negotiator won’t? It’s like I told you. I can’t figure out what they have or how it works for sure. So yeah, that could be a wild card if the Moon Queen laid instructions on him. I do know one thing for sure. If I was USNA Space Force and saw this video I wouldn’t want to risk being intercepted the same way. It’s downright embarrassing how careful of the crew they were. It’s an armed enemy ship from their perspective. They could have just smashed it and saved the pieces. So I’d tell him to release it. Maybe it will make somebody with a trace of common sense see they are way out-classed.”
“That’s pretty much what I’ll tell him,” Nick agreed.

Chapter 28
“Thanks, that’s what my ladies said too,” Jeff told Nick. “So I’ll release it today and you are free to share your copy as needed. What do your people say? Have you asked the North Americans yet?”
“I’ll ask the North Americans in the early morning. It’s too late in their day now. My people haven’t said anything because I haven’t told them what I’m doing. If the Americans agree to send somebody, I’ll drop it on them as an accomplished fact. I’ll have to do that to ask for all the security you and they will need and a venue.”
Jeff looked startled and then smiled amused.
“They can hardly refuse to be the gracious hosts if you have two willing parties who have already accepted, can they?” Jeff agreed. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
“There are risks in everything,” Nick said. “I saw you taking a few in the video.”
“A thought though,” Jeff said. “What are you going to do if they decide they’ll accept, but get back in contact with somebody over your head?”
“I’d just put it back off on them. I’d say: Oh good. They put some feelers out and had a private businessman ask me at a party if such a thing was possible. I couldn’t see any way it could do anything but make us look good, even if they don’t reach an agreement. I thought maybe they gave up on the idea when they didn’t get back to me.”
“That would be pretty hard to document, wouldn’t it?” Jeff admitted.
“They’d never try. It would be awkward and I have half a dozen North American contacts to name and blame who aren’t on the island anymore and wouldn’t give them a straight answer if they asked if the sky was blue.”
“About the security. We’ll bring our own to work closely with us. If your people can just provide a perimeter that would be appreciated. We’ll bring the two fellows you saw removing the missiles in the video and two others from their company.”
“In suits like that?” Nick asked.
“No, those are rated for vacuum work,” Jeff said, “but honestly they look pretty much the same if you don’t know what you’re looking at.”
“After people see the video, I think that will be all to the good for you,” Nick said.
* * *
“The Business Minister?” the Third Undersecretary of State scoffed. “They did something like this before sending messages back and forth between Hawaii and Texas at lower levels that we intercepted. Too scared of owning a failure if they proposed something that was rebuffed. They used that third level Naito fellow then too. Sure, accept the invitation but send it over and ask them to send somebody from Commerce of an appropriate level to deal head to head with a Hawaiian Business Minister,” the Undersecretary said. “If they want to joke around, never let it be said we are humorless.”
* * *
“Good day, Minister Naito, I’m Quincy Love of the Department of Commerce. I’ve been assigned to negotiate with a representative of the Home – Central alliance. The Undersecretary was kind enough to give me the use of a State Department bizjet since there aren’t any commercial flights from the mainland at the moment. I can be there the day after tomorrow if you wish or I can delay if the Spacer representative will be longer.”
“I have a promise to attend,” Nick said. “Mr. Singh didn’t set an arrival time yet. Now that I know you will attend, I’ll ask if he can meet that schedule and get back to you with timing and get a facility assigned,” Nick promised. “May I ask what you do at the Department of Commerce?”
Quincy looked embarrassed and flustered but held his chin up and made a brave show. “I am a statistician working for the Deputy Under Secretary of Commerce for International Trade’s Texas office, tracking potential cross border trade that unfortunately doesn’t exist at the moment. At least not officially. Therefore, my superior felt I had time free to pursue this when requested by State. I’ll have the letter of request from State and my superior’s assignment among my credentials.”
“I’m sure that is well thought out to avoid an overly optimistic public appearance,” Nick said smoothly. Privately he figured this was their way of telling him they didn’t take it seriously. Oddly, his first fear was not for his career but for North America if Singh thought he was being treated with contempt.
“I have a video copy of the intercept that created this crisis,” Nick said. “I understand Singh, who commanded the action is releasing it to the public. I’ll give you a copy right now. I think you’ll find it worth taking the time to view.”
* * *
On Home, the three reporters were sitting around a table sharing a beer while their video techs were at another table trying to outdo each other with stories about the stupidest things they had ever seen their bosses do. The Australian was winning with a magnificent story about his reporter, Leo, standing with his back to the water recounting how a huge saltwater croc had dragged a local to his death. In the monitor, he could see two nostrils and eyeballs silently gliding closer and closer behind him.
“You didn’t warn him?” the Mouse cameraman asked.
“Would you? Think of what that would have done for my career for the great beast to leap out of the muddy water and drag the bloody idiot away screaming in the mic.”
They both smiled picturing what a great shot that would be.
“Come on,” his reporter said coming up to the video techs’ table. “We’re going to go get some man in the street reactions to this farce the North Americans are committing.”
“What farce?” the cameraman asked. The other reporters arrived to gather their cameramen too, so they’d all agreed to go do this.
“State is responding to the Hawaiian call for talks by sending over some nobody from Commerce. Some number pounder who has never held a press conference in his life and knows as much about high-level negotiations as the janitor.”
* * *
“Just what in the hell were you thinking?” The Secretary of State asked the Third Undersecretary of State.
“It seemed like as good a way as any to say we didn’t regard the invitation as serious. Perhaps I should have consulted with you first,” he admitted, “and maybe saying it after I had a three-drink lunch was unwise too. You can repudiate it now if you want before they meet.”
“That gives me the choice between looking like I’m an idiot with no control over my subordinates, or a snarky flaming jackass insulting the Homies with a vicious snubbing.”
“Number two sounds safer,” his subordinate said. “Nobody likes the Spacers.”
“Indeed. We’ll let them talk and then repudiate the deal, not the negotiator. What kind of an agreement can some nerdy number juggler come up with?”
* * *
There were three sets of the pain-in-the-butt Earthie news people spaced out along the main business corridor near the Old Cafeteria trying to interview genuine Spacers. Most of the people were just waving them off or making ruder gestures. Irwin Hall came out of the Bank headed to get a bit of lunch. He’d have waved the reporter away and kept walking except he was in kind of a foul mood today and ready to yell at someone. That’s one reason he’d decided to go to lunch, to avoid yelling at a valued employee and regretting it later.
“Sir, can I ask your opinion about the peace talks the Hawaiians are volunteering to hold between the USNA and Home?”
“You could, but you’ll never get it right,” Irwin told him. “You already don’t understand they are dealing with Central foremost, not Home. It’s the Sovereign of Central who laid down the law on the L1 limit. The Assembly here formally adopted that. I can assure you we all support it.”
“Alright, the Moon Queen then,” Bart for Disney said agreeably. “Do you think North America can get an agreement with her?”
Irwin grimaced at the oft-repeated Moon Queen title.
“I haven’t spoken to her or her partners, but I know them. I’d bet a solar at even odds she’ll send Jeffery Singh to negotiate. From what I saw on the news from down there this morning they are sending somebody so very junior to speak for them that they won’t have any trouble later rejecting any agreement he comes to. I think it obvious they are doing so in bad faith from the start. Earth diplomacy has always proved false. Diplomacy is just another way they wage war without actually shooting. Then, when they change their mind and want to start shooting again after a pause, their word is shown to be valueless.
“You don’t recognize me, I can tell. I’m the head of the Private Bank.” Irwin pointed back down the corridor at his offices. “I’m the fellow the North Americans recently imprisoned because I had the bad luck to have my transonic do an emergency landing in Miami. You picked a very bad person to interview. My experience with the North Americans is they are disorganized, hostile, liars. But all that doesn’t matter at the end of these negotiations.”
“That seems a contradictory statement to me,” Bart said.
Irwin shook his head no. “It doesn’t matter because he’s negotiating with Jeff Singh. If they come to an agreement with him and break it, the man will accept no excuse. Singh won’t care for their self-serving reasoning. Reality is, I’d just as soon slit my throat with a dull butter knife as break a contract with Singh.”
“Thank you for your take on it. I’m Bart Pollard for Disney News at Home. Cut. Let’s see who else will talk to us,” he told his cameraman.
Might as well have talked to a brick wall, Irwin thought as he walked away.
* * *
Jeff was impressed with the added security when he landed. There was a circle of massive concrete barriers fifty meters out from the SpaceX target. The only gap was filled with two armored vehicles side by side. They weren’t tanks, he doubted the North Americans left any of those behind, but they were much heavier than the personnel carrier he’d been assigned before.
There was a serious looking anti-air missile battery on a mobile launcher a couple of hundred meters away, and four more of the armored vehicles spaced in a big square at about the same distance. Johnson and he went down the hull rungs because they didn’t bring the cherry picker this time. Otis and Mackay rode the crane down armored up. The rungs were too small to descend easily in the armor, something they’d fix next refit.
Brockman and Friedman, senior partners from the same firm, stayed behind in the ship. Jeff had all the heavy hitters from the firm with him. The two would stay with the vessel, one in armor at all times, and protect it. They had sanitary facilities and basic food jammed in the hold with their acceleration couches. They were quite comfortable to sleep, but they didn’t expect this to drag on very long. While both of them were armored up Brockman and Friedman came down to meet their Hawaiian security.
Otis carried Jeff and Johnson’s soft luggage. It was easy in powered armor and left Mackay hands free to quickly deal with any threat. A government limo was waiting to take them to April’s house where Johnson would remain. His only job was to fly the ship out if something happened to Jeff. Having April in the same place as Jeff while dealing with North America seemed too much of a temptation. Johnson was picked because he was simply the best at taking ship or rover through impossible situations.
Jeff was happy to see the limo to take them to April’s was huge since the two in armor were rather bulky. Inside Nick Naito was waiting with the Prime Minister, John Tanaka. He surprised Jeff by not looking Japanese at all. Neither did he look particularly happy to see them.
“Naito here, blind-sided me with a fait accompli,” Tanaka said. “I don’t like who the North Americans are sending, and I think the whole thing smells to high heaven. I’m just hoping it isn’t set up to fail from your side too, and we don’t end up looking foolish. We have enough trouble with our new independence without North America deliberately laying a big fat failure here at our feet.
“On the other hand, if it succeeds, I can’t reasonably begrudge Naito a measure of glory for pulling it off if it makes us look good. He’s assured me in modesty that he isn’t doing this because he has any designs on my job, being twenty years younger. I take that as a polite way of saying he’ll patiently wait for me to retire rather than having no interest at all. Whatever else I think about him, Nick has never lied to me through all the years we were fellow revolutionaries - not that I could catch him at, and he’s one of two I can say that about.
“I’m still not sure how he pulled this off. He claims informal contacts at an unlikely level. I’d like to hear from you that you intend to negotiate in good faith, and aren’t here just to make the North Americans look bad for refusing to deal. I’m still not certain it wouldn’t be smarter to kick you both out to seek a different venue.”
“I’m a peer to my sovereign, and intimate with her as a friend, confidant, and business partner,” Jeff said. “I’ll tell you exactly what she instructed me to do. She said to get us the best deal possible. We are concerned there is talk and signs the Americans are foolish enough to make total war with us again if I fail.”
“So it is a matter of survival for you,” Tanaka said.
“Yes, but it’s a matter of survival for them too. They just may not believe it.”
“Convince me,” Tanaka said.
“Is it important to what happens that you believe?” Jeff asked.
“You are not the only one with whom I will speak,” Tanaka said sharply. “I have yet to speak to Mr. Love. He’s on his way here and I’ll take him to his hotel just like I’m receiving you. He may ask if I took the measure of you, having met you first, and ask me what my impressions were. I know Naito here favors you, but I’m frankly more neutral.”
“Fair enough. I will yield something. I don’t know what yet. But I just won’t let the North Americans or any Earthies freely roam the Solar System armed and in danger of bringing the constant war and strife of Earth to the heavens.
“If it comes to war, my Lady April, another peer, said she stands ready to devastate North America from the fiftieth parallel north to the end of the Baja and Key West. She cited a target of removing eighty percent of their population and seventy percent of their industry. We held back in the last war and what did it benefit us? This time she figures the Canadians and Texas would divvy up the remnants afterward and North America wouldn’t exist again as a whole in any reasonable time frame.”
“What of the vast stretch of Mexico? The Texans are surrounded,” Tanaka objected.
“My Lady dismisses the Mexicans as lost already to Texas and just oblivious to the fact they will be absorbed.”
Tanaka considered that thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should have brought this strategist along to advise you or even speak with Mr. Love.”
“Both April and I have survived assassination attempts. We are trying not to tempt the North Americans, or the Chinese for that matter, with too tempting a target.”
“Perhaps I should have greeted you by com,” Tanaka joked.
“Perhaps you with me makes a better target than myself alone,” Jeff said.
That didn’t make Tanaka look any happier.
Otis Duggan cleared his faceplate and looked at Jeff. “A question, My Lord. In the event we are attacked, should we save the Prime Minister and his party after seeing to your safety?”
“That is a duty any time one is a guest,” Jeff answered.
Otis just nodded and let his faceplate go back opaque.
The Prime Minister went back down the hill alone.
* * *
“Since when do you call me My Lord?”, Jeff asked Otis.
“Since we met a snippy little jerk of a Prime Minister who doesn’t respect you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if it helps, but it can’t hurt,” Jeff said. “You notice he never asked who Johnson is or his function? That was dismissive. I’m not keen on social things but even I picked up on it that normal introductions and courtesies were missing.
“First things first. Have Nick show you the hidey-hole and the secret tunnel.”
“Secret tunnel? Oh, crisp,” Otis declared.
* * *
“You have no entourage?” Tanaka asked when he picked up Love at the airport.
“No, I’m traveling light. The plane is going back to the mainland too, until such a time as I’m done and recall it.”
“I can’t leave you unguarded,” Tanaka said. “I feel responsible for your safety as our guest. There is a car of National Police that follows me. I’ll have two of them assigned to sit guard outside your suite and to accompany you when you meet with Singh. Have you agreed with him on a meeting place or do you need us to provide a neutral site? These sorts of diplomatic conferences usually have months of lead time to arrange these things, not days, so there is so much unsaid and unplanned.”
“I thought I’d just get the use of a conference room from the hotel. They must have several available for business meetings. If Singh is in another hotel, he might have similar facilities available. Does he have a large… entourage that we’d need a bigger facility?”
“He’s staying in a private home a friend owns here. I just delivered him there not long ago. It’s up a high ridge looking over a forest preserve. He only has some sort of assistant and two bodyguards. He left everyone else with his ship.”
“Give me his number and I’ll call and arrange something with him,” Love said, holding out his pad to get the comlink.
Tanaka did feel vaguely uneasy over the informality of it. Yet it wasn’t his place to carry messages between them. Why didn’t the man at least have an aide to assist?
Love chatted directly with Singh. It seemed he answered his phone directly, so the fellow with him wasn’t a secretary. Tanaka was scandalized. Love sounded more like he was making a dinner date with a friend than a diplomat.
“Well that’s easier,” Love announced when he closed his phone. “You can take me right up the hill where you took Singh. He has a much nicer more comfortable place there any hotel conference room. He suggested I ask you to send a driver and car up the hill after so when I’m done, I can be taken to my hotel.”
“Do you want to give the home-court advantage to the man by meeting on his turf?” Tanaka asked. “Most diplomats spend the first days of a conference allowing their subordinates to argue over what shape table to sit around and who gets how many chairs and has to face the windows and such before they arrive at any substantive talks.”
“We’re not playing a basketball game. I’m rather short on a cheering section and audience, you may have noticed. If he thinks I’m giving a centimeter because it’s his room, he’s too big an idiot to have been trusted with this. Everybody thinks I’m a damn fool because I don’t have a fancy enough title. Let me tell you, I’ve worked for plenty of people with glorious titles too stupid to understand the plain numbers I laid out for them. I’ll take care of myself just fine,” Love said, “don’t you worry.”
Tanaka was shocked to silence. Where had all that come from? He thought Love was a quiet inoffensive little man and that Singh would eat him alive. Wow.
* * *
“Quincy Love,” he introduced himself and offered his hand.
“Jeff Singh.” He shook hands like it wasn’t an unknown or repulsive custom. Neither did he surreptitiously wipe it or hold it awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with it now that it was defiled.
The armored-up pair, the other man, and Nick went off and left them alone. Love wondered if Nick would expect to sit in. The National Police conferred quietly with the armored security and one disappeared and one went out on the balcony overlooking the pool.
“Singh sounds Indian and you look Indian. I don’t have a bio on you. Are you of recent or past Indian ancestry?”
“Second-generation, but my dad lived here in Hawaii before we went up to M3, that is, Home. I’ve been back to India to meet aunts and uncles and visit, but I’m not culturally an Indian. My dad is, and even recently started wearing the bindi again to help him relate to others,” he said, touching himself between the eyebrows to illustrate. “My mother died here, that’s a long ugly story, but she didn’t go to Home with us. My dad remarried a Chinese lady after some time and remarried very well. How about you?”
“English on my Paternal side, various flavors of European for three generations. I’m not the sort to do genealogies. Great grandfather was well to do. It came back with my dad. He’s terribly disappointed I can’t stay excited about money. Culturally, I’m Midwest American. I’m a middle son so my father two has others to deflect his sole attention from me, thankfully. I really like numbers.”
“Your mom?” Jeff asks.
“She shops. Dad enables her. It seems to keep them both happy. That hasn’t encouraged me to get married. I’m still single,” Love said.
Jeff decided he owed a response. “I’m part of a triad,” he said watching Quincy’s face. “We’ve shared politics, business, and affections since we were tweens. Heather is the Sovereign of Central on the Moon and April and I are her peers but not the only ones. We have our own businesses and other things as well as shared, but declared a revolution together, which is a tremendous bonding event.”
“I’d expect so, if you survive it. It’s too far outside what is allowed to happen in North America to be able to imagine how different your life must be every day.”
“And yet, most of Home and Central are from North America. I just sold the Chinese colony on the Moon that I got as spoils of war from the Chinese. Their culture was so different I never did get a handle on it. I tried to alter things and got resistance to every change. I’m glad I finally unloaded it to somebody who speaks Mandarin. May he have the joy of it.”
“How long do you figure it should take to hammer this out?” Love asked.
“This evening if we were both reasonable people,” Jeff said, “but I’m very bad about social things and stubborn, so maybe a couple of days. I have people on my ship that will get tired of being cooped up and run low on supplies. So I can’t drag it out past a few days.”
“Tanaka would croak to hear you say that. He’d consider it a weakness to exploit. He lectured me about giving you the home-court advantage to meet here.”
“The danger would be I’d say to hell with it and go home, not that I’d cave in to bring it to an end. I swear Earthies are wedded to sports metaphors. There are still people on Home who follow all the games breathlessly, but for me, they just don’t translate. I get no emotional jolt at all.”
“I told him it wasn’t a basketball game.”
“Wish it was,” Jeff said. “I’m taller than you.”
That didn’t offend Love, it made him smile.
“The other fellow who went off with your guards in suits isn’t an aide to sit in?”
“He’s the spare pilot for the ship. If anybody kills me, like people keep trying to do, he’s to get it home. He’s very good at that but has no other official purpose. I’m getting hungry,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a gene boosted metabolism and eat more. Do you have room for a little something soon?”
“Easily. I try to eat light when I’m flying.”
“House,” Jeff called to the ceiling, “can you let me talk to Nick?”
“You are connected until you say you are done,” the house computer said.
“Have you laid in some groceries so we can whip up something for dinner?” Jeff asked.
“I have breakfast stuff, sandwich makings, and various snacks, but this evening Diana will serve you dinner on her patio,” Nick said. “I’ll go over with you.”
“Oh good, that’ll be a treat,” Jeff said.
“Is Diana the housekeeper?” Love asked.
“Diana is the neighbor next door. She’s known. This house is owned by April and we do business back and forth. Nick is a sort of caretaker since this hardly ever gets used. I rent an apartment to Diana on Home and she lets me use it sometimes when she’s down here. I have another apartment and office too but an employee lives there. April has her own place up there too… It probably sounds complicated, but it isn’t.”
“No more complicated than the rest of it,” Love allowed.
* * *
They walked across to the next house. One national cop came with them and said he was Captain Griswold when asked. He wasn’t unfriendly but not interested in chatting at all. Otis was introduced as having been in armor before and that he’d alternate with Christian Mackay staying in the suits. Nick was surprised they rated a Captain of police.
Diana was grilling steaks or Ono as pleased you. The side dishes were abundant and pretty. Talk tapered off as everybody dug in. Ele’ele sat behind his mistress and watched all the strangers closely.
Captain Griswold and Otis went off to let their partners come to eat. The new cop was Lieutenant Walton and he wasn’t any chattier than his captain. Griswold went back over to April’s house to do a patrol around the outside. Mackay returned, having armored up, and did a slow turn around the perimeter inspecting everything carefully.
“What’s he doing?” Naito asked. Everybody looked because Mackay stopped his patrol and was staring up into a big tree beyond the stone fence.
“Admiring the foliage?” Jeff joked.
“I don’t like it. It reminds me of when Ele’ele was standing staring across the fence recently and we found blood signs and evidence we’d had an intruder,” Nick said.
The police lieutenant looked alarmed. “Did you file a report on that?”
“What would be the point of it long after they were gone?” Nick asked. “If there was any evidence they tried to get in the house I’d have reported it.” He didn’t volunteer they’d found a weapon or that the property had a history of invasion.
“Mr. Mackay, do you see some activity?” the cop called out.
Mackay came up the hill with his faceplate clear, looking concerned.
“Do you keep some sort of security system active outside your boundaries? Your lot does end at the stone wall, doesn’t it? These suits have a pretty decent sensor suite and I am getting a reading like a phone radiating up in that big tree.”
“It’s nothing of ours,” Diana assured him. “I have a ladder in the garage. We should take a look and see what is up there.”
“No need,” Mackay said. He trotted back down to the waist-high wall, hopped to the top of it, and then in a stunning demonstration of the power armor leaped to the first massive branch a good three meters higher. He scrambled up from branch to branch with graceful agility to put a monkey to shame.
He returned with a tiny black box that had a hair-thin antenna wire hanging, a lead to a separate small solar panel, and the protruding lens of a steerable camera. The lens moved as they watched trying to decide where it should point from its confused and very limited AI. Mackay removed a memory card and the lens returned to zero and retracted.
“It’s not radiating now,” Mackay said.
“It shuts down without a memory card,” the lieutenant said. “That’s a very typical commercial spy cam. Pop the case and there should be a cellular sim card.”
Mackay looked carefully and popped the case open, but the extraction of the card was too delicate to do with his armored gauntlets, so he passed it to Lt. Walton.
“I’ll find out who pays this cellular account and get back to you,” Walton said. He pocketed the sim card and carefully sealed the pocket shut. “Unfortunately, it probably isn’t illegal being on state land. There are all sorts of nature cams watching bird nests and game trails. They’re perfectly legal and sometimes a cover for things just like this. But if the memory card shows it focused on watching your home and the owner foolishly never programmed it to pan off in the woods to feign innocence, you might have an actionable case for an invasion of privacy.”
“There are different kinds of action,” Mackay said in an ugly growling voice.
“My, you people are certainly interesting to be around,” Love said. “The Commerce Department picnics never have anything this exciting.”
“Be aware. We have had a constant flux of fairly sophisticated spy bots try to penetrate both houses here,” Naito said, waving his hand inclusively. “Our Spacer friend gave us little hunter-killer bots that seem to have been effective in excluding them. However, those attempts ended about the time we saw Ele’ele acting territorial and saw signs he drove somebody off.”
“He seems quite gentle,” Love protested.
“Don’t bet your life on it,” Naito warned him. “Don’t move suddenly on Diana or raise your voice to her. He won’t waste a single bark trying to warn you.”
“I see,” Love said, reappraising the gentle giant.
“Let’s go back to the house and talk a little bit before you need to go back down the hill with your bodyguards,” Jeff said. “I’d offer you a room but I didn’t see any luggage. I’m betting it was all delivered to your hotel suite.”
Jeff got up and they strolled away from the others.
“You’re right, but that would also scandalize Tanaka and convince him this is just a farce and I’m in your pocket to accept that much hospitality. Why don’t you call me in the morning so I have some idea when you are ready for me to return?”
“You might as well just come up the hill when you want,” Jeff said. “I’m gene modified not to need as much sleep as usual too. I’ll be up at 0300 looking at business proposals and reports. Talking with the lag is irritating but I don’t do much business by voice anyway.”
“It’s isn’t just life extension then?” Love asked.
“No, it’s lots of little things that are quite legal even in North America. Reduced inflammatory response for vascular health, cancer suppression, protections from several forms of auto-immune diseases, dementia, and diabetes. All the things that keep you healthy for a normal lifetime without really extending it. But add on the illegal age slowing and other things. The sleep, extra strength, faster reflexes, I can synthesize my own vitamin C. That may seem silly but it was so cheap, why not have it done? You never know what your circumstances might be in the future.”
“So it’s kind of like ordering dim sum. You go down the list and check off what you want?” Love asked.
“Yeah, but there are options with trade-offs I’m not willing to make,” Jeff said. “There are gene mods to give you perfect pitch or enhance your memory. I know one fellow developed a mod to do multitasking, but it made changes in his personality he didn’t like so he removed it. I agree with him I won’t take a mod that doesn’t have an undo available.
“The idea that LET makes you crazy because they messed up and hurt a few people when it was first introduced in Germany is like refusing all vaccinations because a couple of bad polio and flu vaccines in the twentieth century injured some people. The Europeans, in particular, are still pounding that drum hard, and we’re quite tired of it,” Jeff said.
Jeff was sort of embarrassed he went on a rant, and Quincy was given a lot to think about, so they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter 29
Jeff stopped in the kitchen and got a couple of bottles of cold water and handed one to Love. “Out on the balcony OK with you?” Love just nodded. They found chairs looking down over the swimming pool house and the nature preserve below.
“In the intercept video I released most of it was from April’s view,” Jeff started.
“Yes, Nick gave me a copy but I didn’t see it before I left North America.”
Jeff just looked at him shocked, then pulled his pad out and made a call. It seemed a long time to make a connection and then Love realized where he was calling.
“Chen? Yes, I know this probably isn’t secure. You define secure differently than me anyway. To you, secure means it can’t be decrypted before the sun grows cold. In this case, I don’t even care if it’s being intercepted and freely broadcast to the public in real-time. Is the video we released generally available in North America?”
Love felt free to lean over and look at the phone given Jeff’s statement. Chen looked at the strange face in alarm and froze up for a second trying to decide if he should cut his feed to audio. With the lag, Love had seen him so long it seemed pointless to cut it.
“If you know how to bypass the restrictions to access European or Asian servers it’s pretty easy to find it. Getting archived feed from Home itself is a little harder. Any of the space nut sites have it. But if you listen to the commercial news in North America, they simply didn’t carry it. Most folks get their news and entertainment feeds off fiber or are hardwired. Those that get it off the air do so from short-range cell services. There isn’t much long-range broadcast left in service, so no, most North Americans haven’t seen it.”
“Thank you, Chen. This is Quincy Love. Tell Chen you forgot you’ve ever seen his face so he doesn’t have a heart attack,” Jeff requested.
Quincy picked up on it right away. “A pleasure to have forgotten you,” he agreed.
Jeff cut the connection without elaboration.
“He’s a spy?” Love asked.
“A spymaster, for all three of us. I doubt he’ll ever risk himself to visit Earth again, but old habits die hard and good spies are rightfully paranoid.”
“I think I want to go to my hotel now,” Love said after a bit. “I want to make some phone calls tonight and discuss what Chen revealed with some people. I want to do that before we talk anymore.”
“It’s near sundown and that happens surprisingly fast here in the tropics,” Jeff said. “Especially with the lee side behind the ridge from us. It’s good to get down the long windy road before it is full dark. I’d be pleased to serve you breakfast in the morning if you want to wait and have it up here.”
“I’ll plan on that,” Love said and got up to go collect his guards. They could see their people at Diana’s from the balcony and Jeff went with him to rejoin them.
* * *
Griswold joined them at the door and called his lieutenant on their collar radio when told they were leaving. They met at the stone wall and turned uphill to their car with a nod. Jeff rejoined the others on Diana’s patio and claimed a chair.
“Done so soon?” Nick asked.
Jeff nodded his thanks and took a local beer from Nick’s hand.
“Mr. Love had never seen the video of our intercept,” Jeff said, “although it is released to the public. He also didn’t have any sort of a bio on me. From the set of his face, I’d say he is tired of the mushroom treatment and said he’s going to going to make some phone calls tonight from his hotel.”
“I have a small gift of prophecy,” Johnson said, touching fingertips to his temples. “I think they will fail to offer Mr. Love any support or just promise it and never deliver. I think he’ll pack up and go home when that happens.”
Jeff noted he had three empty beer bottles beside his chair.
“What? No rebuttal?” Johnson asked.
“If you were certain you’d have offered it as a bet for anybody who wanted a piece of it,” Jeff said. “I know you are an inveterate gambler. I have to ask, however, if we need to jump up this instant and run for our lives, can you fly by the time you get to the ship?”
“Absolutely,” Johnson promised him. He fished in his breast pocket and displayed a white capsule. “Fifteen-minute sober pill. Though you pay for it the next day.”
“I took one of those once,” Diana said. “Never again.”
Jeff saluted him and dropped it. Diana had better sense. She probably had too much sense to fly a spaceship like it was a video game that didn’t matter if you crashed. Jeff thought about that. If he had weekly shuttle service here like Nick wanted it was going to change a lot.
“Diana, why has that house next door been for sale so long?” Jeff asked.
“The economy hasn’t recovered from the revolution,” she said. “It wasn’t that great before, and nobody has been sure where things are headed to buy an expensive property. April and I weren’t certain we’d be allowed to keep our properties or if there would be a massive seizure and redistribution to native Hawaiians. Nick helped keep them rational about that. It would have destroyed what economy was left to chase all the money and the skilled workers out of the country.”
“Is it a decent house? Have you been inside?”
“The old boy who owned it kept to himself. He never had me over. I spoke across the wall maybe a half dozen times over the years. It’s a fee simple place. All these on the ridge are, and that’s so valuable it would be worth it even if you had to tear it down and build all over from scratch. Why? You thinking of buying it?”
“I was just thinking if we are having closer ties to Hawaii, we need a consulate for Central,” Jeff said. “Maybe even an embassy. We could buy it and make it our office. You could be our consul and just walk right next door when you needed to do some rare business. Being up here on a dead-end would keep bums from wandering in off the street. You could hire a local to answer the phone. Remotely if they don’t want to drive up the road. Maybe Home would like to be represented out of the same building, sharing the costs. It could promote business, which would make Nick happy.”
Privately, Jeff imagined Annette might be the first intelligence officer at the consulate after some training. That was how the game was played and it wouldn’t hurt to give her an assignment in paradise after what he put her through in Camelot.
“I’ve already told Nick I don’t want a job. Why do people keep trying to rope me into doing stuff? If you did that some damn fools will probably drive up here to demonstrate with nowhere to park and block my driveway,” Diana warned.
“Think on it,” Jeff said, undeterred. “I have money left from selling Camelot. I may just go ahead and buy it on speculation.”
“You’ll be surrounded,” Nick told Diana, looking amused.
The tropical sunset Jeff warned about was suddenly done. “House, bring the outside lights up halfway,” Diana said.
* * *
Love showed up surprisingly early.
“I hope you didn’t cut your rest short for me,” Jeff said. “I’m used to waiting for sleeping people to wake up and use my time productively.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Love said.
“Heavy matters of state weighing on your mind will do that,” Jeff acknowledged.
“So will seething with anger,” Love said.
Jeff’s eyebrows went up. “I’m not very good at reading people, but you don’t display classic anger to me. I confess, I’m frequently accused of failing to display what I feel internally for people and confusing them.”
“I already figured that out yesterday,” Love said, “so I’ll just explain in words. I’m a minor functionary in a bureaucracy that gets disrespected as stodgy and uninteresting. My job is to make sense of torrents of data that are fascinating to me but that often gets ignored because they refuse to reflect the reality people want them to show.
“I called the Undersecretary of State who asked Commerce to send somebody to talk with you. I wanted to know why the Constitution was armed, what sort of orders they had that they refused to speak to you, and why they spun the ship in such a way to endanger themselves.”
Jeff nodded. “I wouldn’t mind knowing those things myself,” he admitted.
“He informed me no State Department assets were available to pass those questions on to the Space Force and he didn’t expect they would tell him or me in any case because I’m not cleared at a level to be privy to operations at that level.”
“Seems silly to send you if this is above your trust level. We sort of gave up on keeping everything secret in separate tiny compartments,” Jeff said, marking off little squares with his hands. “You either trust your people or you don’t. If you do it like they do, you have people working away at cross purposes, and one person sitting on information another person needs or unaware what he is researching is already known to be false or useless. We don’t have billions of dollars to throw away in a usually futile effort to keep everything secret. Sad truth is, when we finally told people the things we’d been trying to keep secret, we found they didn’t believe us anyway.”
Love laughed at that but it had a manic quality to it.
“I understand if you want to just go home,” Jeff said. “It looks like they set you up for deliberate failure. I guess they want war, and if they are determined… It takes two to have peace and one to force a war. My intelligence fellows, people who work for Chen, warned us there is chatter from the military that they think they can win a conflict. That they can absorb the damage and all it takes is one warhead getting through to end Home. Central would be a harder nut to crack. They’ve already been nuked and survived it. But it could be done. I might suggest you stay here instead of going home. Nick can probably arrange it. It’s going to be bad.”
“How bad?” Love asked.
Jeff looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want you to think I’m exaggerating and trying to bully you with threats. Here, I had this conversation with Tanaka, here’s what I told him before I ever met you.” Jeff searched for the audio of his meeting and sat the pad on the table. “I’ll let it run and I’m going to make some coffee. You can tell it stop, backup, or go if you want to hear something again.” He pressed play and walked away.
“So it is a matter of survival for you,” Tanaka said.
“Yes, but it’s a matter of survival for them too. They just may not believe it,” Jeff said.
“Convince me,” Tanaka said.
Love was sitting there finished when Jeff came back with two mugs.
“I believe you,” Love said.
Jeff shrugged. “Thank you. I appreciate that, but does it really matter anymore?”
“Yes, it does, because I don’t feel I have the option to go home, or just stay here either. That would be cowardly.”
“Wow, that borders on malicious compliance. They’re going to be pissed you did what they told you to do. Of course, you could do the best deal you can and not go home,” Jeff said.
“You really don’t understand people if you think that’s possible. If I didn’t go back it would condemn everything I negotiated as inadequate at best and deliberately disloyal at worst.”
“I do rely on my ladies extensively to instruct me on matters of human nature.”
“Are you diagnosed with a specific… impedance?”
“No, you don’t have to be careful of offending me. I’ve just always been interested in other things that make more sense. I like building machines and ships.”
“You told Tanaka you would yield something. I’m prepared to do that too. Instruct me about your needs. Why can’t you let North America take armed ships past L1?”
“Our history should tell you that. Maybe you don’t know it, just like you hadn’t seen yesterday’s video. We started with North America trying to steal a small asteroid that private investors brought into LEO near us. That’s what precipitated our rebellion.”
Jeff described the attempt to nuke them and the continued sniping that drove them to go out past the Moon. “Then the UN declared we could not occupy any orbital position without their permission. The Chinese sent a fleet to enforce that, and Heather killed all but one ship which surrendered. That fleet was what made us say no more. We are beyond the Moon. You don’t bring armed ships out here anymore. Our assembly voted that Earth law, Earth custom, and Earth power do not extend beyond L1.
“If they are free to position armed ships anywhere in the Solar System, we aren’t any safer than we were in Earth orbit. We can be attacked from any direction with little notice. The more so with the kinds of weapons the Constitution carried, far more advanced than the Chinese had who attacked Central. Didn’t you know those things?”
“I knew some of them. From a different slant,” Love said kindly.
“I could document it, but you can fake so much so easily now,” Jeff lamented.
“I have to point out that even if you disapprove, the Constitution was not taking her weapons into the Solar System. She was headed out for the stars.”
“How would we know?” Jeff demanded. “It’s not like military ships even ask clearance from traffic control. They just go.”
“What if there was an Earth-Moon traffic control for everybody? Civilian and military alike, and they declared any extra-solar destination before passing L1?”
“They’d never do it,” Jeff said skeptically.
“I’d yield the point to you,” Love said. “If they refuse my agreement, that’s on them.”
“And keep Solar traffic without heavy weapons?” Jeff asked.
“I haven’t heard anyone argue against that side of it yet.”
“Alright, those are significant concessions,” Jeff admitted.
“The thing is, many people jumped to the conclusion the intercept wasn’t about lines or arms. They think you mean to cut us off from the stars entirely,” Love said.
“I can see why. They try to impose control over where we can park in empty space, much less on physical bodies. They have been arguing about who would own the Moon since before anybody went to it. They’ve tried to say who owns the planets before we landed on them. People still have this crazy meme that they are the joint property of all humanity. Funny they never feel that way about the real estate under their feet. Watching the news on this I saw a politician say “Who can own the stars?” like it was just obvious nobody can. They still believe that today. I can easily agree whoever gets there first and claims it owns it. But I’m not sure that they will respect our claims.”
“Then that’s your first concession,” Love said. “You will honor all ownership claims from North America and we will reciprocate. This is good because it is entirely in the mission of Commerce to set trade agreements.”
“That’s fine for now,” Jeff said, “but I can tell you right now that just because you have an agreement with us, doesn’t mean you aren’t going to have conflict over ownership claims between you and all the other Earth nations. If you don’t get some kind of treaty with everybody to administer that it’s going to be a mess. We’re not going to take sides if the USNA and China argue over a star.”
“So you’d also respect agreements from a governing commission?” Love said.
“If it is independent and represents anybody who brings an extrasolar claim to it. Not an agency that everybody knows was created to rubber stamp North American claims, or Chinese for that matter,” Jeff said.
Love just ticked off another checkmark in the air with his finger.
“Ownership is fine,” Jeff said, “but we also need rights of passage just like on Earth’s oceans. We’ll soon be hedged in by private stars we can’t get past otherwise.”
“That’s another point of mutual benefit,” Love said. “But do you really expect explorers to go off into the unknown defenseless?”
“Not defenseless, but these are long-range ship killers. You can screw up spectacularly with just one misunderstanding. Let them carry short-range defensive weapons and nothing that could do a planetary bombardment. If they want to carry self-destruct charges, if they have the guts to use them, that’s fine. We do.”
“You’re willing to do the same?” Love asked.
“As long as they abide by it too,” Jeff said. “I have the tech, but never built a warhead that does what these do.”
“Noted,” Love said. “What else do you need?”
“Leave it at that,” Jeff said. “The more complicated it is, the more people have to argue about and the less chance they’ll agree. If there is any significant hitch or we need to add things later it’ll easier to change an existing framework.”
“I’ll go back to my hotel to make a written copy from the audio recordings. If you approve how it reads their business center can print copies. We should ask Prime Minister Tanaka to witness our signing in the morning,” Love said.
“And my crew, they will witness, and whoever you and Tanaka want to invite. Let’s not get in a rush. Let’s set it up for 1500,” Love said.
“By the ship? Or at least in a hanger?” Jeff said. “The weather can’t be trusted. It just rains at random. I don’t know how you guys put up with it.”
“You have no idea how many would agree with you.”
* * *
“You phrased a few things differently than I would have, but it’s nothing worth arguing about,” Jeff said late in the evening. “I’m happy. Print it up and invite Tanaka. I’m going to show it to Naito when he gets up in the morning.”
“If we were trained diplomats it would be eight hundred pages, and we’d need a couple of months to agree on every comma. I’ll ask the use of a hanger as you suggested,” Love said and ended his call.
For the first time since he arrived Jeff relaxed a little. April had that lovely pool and he could take a swim and go to bed.
“We have an agreement. We’ll sign it tomorrow,” he told Otis standing watch.
“Amazing. I’ll tell Mackay when we switch.”
* * *
Tanaka had a bigger mob there than the other signatories. Heads of the Hawaiian government, military, and even the mayor of Honolulu. Of course he invited the press.
“Can you take a few questions before you start?” a familiar voice asked. It was the Australian fellow, Leo Champion, with Victoria Vantage.
Jeff looked at him in disbelief. “How could you possibly have gotten here in time?”
“Oh, we came back next shuttle after your interview on Home, but it was a close thing anyway. We got home the day before yesterday and I came straight away as soon as I heard your ship was here. My manager isn’t going to be happy with my travel charges.”
“Very well. Such effort deserves to be rewarded. Go ahead and take the lead question,” Jeff said.
“Have you looked at the North American news this morning?” Leo asked.
“No, I was in entirely too good of a mood having wrapped up this agreement. Are you about to spoil that?” Jeff asked.
“That is of course yours to determine. The USNA Space Force absolutely denies the weapons on the Constitution were of the nature you described. Since this is the start point for this entire conflict and disagreement, I thought you’d want to address it.”
“Otis, have the Hawaiian gentleman who brought all of you suited up over in the truck go back to Dionysus’ Chariot and bring us the proof package back.”
“Ah, you anticipated this issue might come up,” Leo said.
“Indeed we did. I might take a few questions from the others while we are waiting.”
The questions were low-ball and cautious, even though they all had copies of the agreement and could have asked about details of it. They were waiting to see how he answered Champion. When the truck returned Otis retrieved a white cylinder from the bed. It was flat on one end and hemispherical on the other. Even though he had enhanced strength and powered armor he fairly staggered under the load. That was obvious from how far he had to lean back cradling it in his arms to get under the balance point.
Mackay rushed forward to help him ease it to the hanger floor, and about half the press corps and Tanaka’s delegation stepped back when they realized what it was. That was silly. They’d have had to retreat to the other side of the island to lessen any danger.
“This is my proof,” Jeff said in a soft voice. “We’re disassembling one right now on the Moon. This is my gift to Hawaii. I suggest you enlist someone with experience in nuclear weaponry to help you dismantle it safely. The French come to mind as a good possibility. We realized these would have a destruct mechanism in case you fire it off and change your mind. It also will auto-engage if the target is not intercepted. That doesn’t detonate it. It just engages the chemical charges out of sequence to blow it to pieces well past reverse engineering.
“We removed the receivers for that function some distance away. The North Americans have been transmitting the destruct code in the K band from orbit the last couple days to no effect. Of course, without the nuclear portion going off, it would be hard to tell if any of them received the signal and self-destructed.
“The disassembly we are doing is far enough along I can tell you with certainty you will find plenty of contractor and agency names written on components to know this is a North American device.
“I find I don’t want to take any more questions. Let’s get to the signing so we can all go home,” Jeff requested.
Three copies of the agreement were laid out on a low table with a fresh pen for each. There was a seat to allow signing without leaning over awkwardly. As they’d agreed privately, Quincy Love stepped forward and signed each in turn. Jeffrey Singh then signed them and applied his hanko. Prime Minister Tanaka was the only witness signing and surprised them by having a hanko too. Jeff didn’t want a dozen signatories and didn’t see the point of them with modern media and recording. It wasn’t like witnesses would be asked later to verify their mark. Several photographers recorded the event and it was streamed out live.
When they were done a Hawaiian officer enclosed each copy in leather covered hard folders and presented them to the signatories. Tanaka and Love shook hands with him and Jeff went straight to his ship.
* * *
“Not bad,” Heather said, sitting watching it with April. “He said he’d get us the best deal he could and I’m not complaining about this one at all.”
“They may balk and argue about details so we have to add onto it,” April predicted.
“I’ll try to look somewhat reasonable in that event,” Heather vowed, “as long as they don’t try to reject the whole thing. That would be unfortunate.”
April nodded. She understood just how unfortunate. She wondered just how plainly Jeff explained that to them? They’d find out in a couple of days when he detailed events to them. The old Jeff who dealt with the Chinese would have never been able to have an actual discussion and negotiate. His style back then was more – Do what I say or I’ll kill you. He definitely has matured and socialized.
“Do you think Mr. Love will be treated decently at home? Do you even think he is safe to go back to North America?” April worried.
“I think they accidentally picked a very strong-willed person and will regret it if they repudiate his treaty. Treaties aren’t forever but it’s déclassé to break them in a week. He wouldn’t abide it silently. If they do treat him badly, I hope you don’t go into rescue mode.
“He might even be able to push through some sort of a commission to administer claims. I thought that was a marvelous idea. So good I’m trying not to get my hopes up they’ll do it. The treaty didn’t say who contributed each point. I wonder which parts were from each of them? I don’t think I’ll ask. It might be seen as critical.”
“I’m shocked North America hasn’t asked damages. They tore that ship up rather badly. I’m sure it’s not repairable,” April said. “They might salvage some systems.”
“Any delay is good,” Heather said. “because it’s a race. We need to get back to the planet Deloris’ crew discovered with Dionysus’ Chariot so they can land. I’m encouraged. If we found a living planet this soon and so close, I can’t believe there aren’t more waiting to be found.
“I’m not foolish enough to think we have a permanent peace. All we did was buy some time, but that should be enough.”
The End

The Last Part
Other Kindle Books & Links by Mackey Chandler
April (first of series)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EOE2C
April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. She finds herself involved with intrigues that stretch her abilities after a chance run-in with a spy. There is a terrible danger she and her friends and family will lose the only home she has ever known in orbit and be forced to live on the slum ball below. It's more than a teen should have to deal with. Fortunately, she has a lot of smart friends and allies, who give them a thin technological edge in rebellion. It's a good thing, because things get very rough and dicey.
Down to Earth (sequel to April)
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007RGBIVK
April seems to make a habit of rescues. Now two lieutenants from the recent war appeal to her for help to reach Home. The secret they hold makes their escape doubtful. North America, the United States of North America, has been cheating on their treaty obligations and a public figure like April taking a very visible vacation there would be a good way to remind them of their obligations. Wouldn't it? Her family and business associates all think it is a great idea. She can serve a public purpose and do her rescue on the sly too. But things get difficult enough just getting back Home alive is going to be a challenge. It's a good thing she has some help. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
Family Law (First of four in series.) Also as audiobooks.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS
People love easily. Look at most of your relatives or coworkers. How lovable are they? Really? Yet most have mates and children. The vast majority are still invited to family gatherings and their relatives will speak to them.
Many have pets to which they are devoted. Some even call them their fur-babies. Is your dog or cat or parakeet property or family? Not in law but in your heart? Can a pet really love you back? Or is it a different affection? Are you not kind to those who feed and shelter you? But what if your dog could talk back? Would your cat speak to you kindly?
What if the furry fellow in question has his own law? And is quite articulate in explaining his choices. Can a Human adopt such an alien? Can such an intelligent alien adopt a human? Should they?
How much more complicated might it be if we meet really intelligent species not human? How would we treat these 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How would they treat us? Are we that lovable?
When society and the law decide these sorts of questions must be answered it is usually because someone disapproves of your choices. Today it may be a cat named in a will or a contest for custody of a dog. People are usually happy living the way they want until conflict is forced upon them.
Of course if the furry alien in question is smart enough to fly spaceships, and happens to be similar in size and disposition to a mature Grizzly bear, wisdom calls for a certain delicacy in telling him no...
The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet (sequel to Family Law
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006GQSZVS
In the first book of this series "Family Law", Lee's parents and their business partner Gordon found a class A habitable planet. They thought their quest as explorers was over and they'd live a life of ease. But before they could return and register their claim Lee's parents died doing a survey of the surface. That left Lee two-thirds owner of the claim and their partner Gordon obligated by his word with her parents to raise Lee. She had grown up aboard ship with her uncle Gordon and he was the only family she'd ever known. His adopting her was an obvious arrangement - to them. Other people didn't see it so clearly over the picky little fact Gordon wasn't human.
After finding prejudice and hostility on several worlds Lee was of the opinion planets might be nice to visit, but terrible places to live. She wanted back in space exploring. Fortunately, Gordon was agreeable and the income from their discovery made outfitting an expedition possible. Lee wanted to go DEEP - out where it was entirely unknown and the potential prizes huge. After all, if they kept exploring tentatively, they might run up against the border of some bold starfaring race who had gobbled up all the best real estate. It wasn't hard to find others of a like mind for a really long voyage. This sequel to "Family Law" is the story of their incredible voyage.
Link to a full list of current releases on Amazon:
Including other books of the series, stand-alone books, and short stories.
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2
Mac's Writing Blog:
http://www.mackeychandler.com