Date: 2013-01-14T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: April returns home from her trip down to Earth unhappy with what she accomplished. Papa-san Santos is finishing her rescue of the Lieutenants, Her traitorous brother is dead, and so many things are uncertain.The Chinese and North Americans both continue to give her and Home a hard time. But April, Jeff, and Heather are gathering allies and power. China, trying to steal Singh technology, gets its hand slapped badly by Jeff, and the Patriot Party in America is damaged, but not gone. Their project on the moon is not so easy for North America to shut down, especially with the Russians helping. Hea

The Middle of Nowhere

Mackey Chandler

Third book in the April series.

Sequel to "Down to Earth"

Editing services by Leo Champion

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

The Last Part - Other Kindle Books by Mackey Chandler

Chapter 1

April was tired and depressed. Her trip down to Earth had been such a failure. She hadn't rescued the two lieutenants who had asked her to help them get to Home. She'd spent a great deal of Eddie's money, but if it made war less likely, as he was hoping, she didn't see how. She had certainly tweaked the giant's nose as far as irritating North America. But she couldn't see that had really improved anything about the USNA ignoring their treaty obligations with Home. Eddie's fortune was still at risk if whoever replaced President Wiggen wanted war with Home and there wasn't a single candidate who wanted peace with Home. It was just a question of how long each favored waiting to start up hostilities again.

About the only thing she could claim to have accomplished for sure, was Preston Harrison was not going to ride the Patriot Party ticket to the USNA Presidency. He'd tried to arrest her and she'd shot him dead for his trouble. Her Earth hosts, the Santos, intimated that might not have been the best PR move of all time. But the fool swore to her face he'd kill her family and nation as his first official act. What did he expect?

Whatever their private plans and opinions, April doubted other candidates would make such a public threat if they ever intended to stand under an open sky again. If they did she'd be happy to put a smoking crater where any of them showed themselves. Harrison had certainly underestimated how difficult one young girl could be to drag off under arrest.

Things were sort of a mess. Her Earth hosts didn’t feel safe going back to their home and instead were sailing away to do her job and rescue the men she'd intended to extract. Her bodyguard was sitting in the other shuttle couch beside her, apparently betrayed by his own government, the same as the lieutenants, mixed up in politics that didn't concern him. Assigned to her by Wiggen it was true, but because she'd asked for him she felt responsible.

She had to sort out the businesses she'd inherited from her brother. She wasn't even sure what all of them were and if he'd left anybody in charge running them. There was the real possibility some people would blame her for precipitating his apparent traitorous theft of the armed merchant Home Boy and the destruction of it in Lunar orbit while collaborating with the USNA.

Since she'd walked away from her interest in their courier business and left her share to him she certainly had not expected him to leave anything to her. She had bluntly made clear she didn't approve of his business practices and had separated herself before going down to Earth. So why had he left everything to her? Why not their parents or her grandfather? A friend even, if he had one. Was it guilt?

Just about everyone she could think of had a good reason to chew her out or blame her for things ending in such a muddled mess. She wasn't looking forward to facing the music.

This was a freight shuttle, so it would dock at the north end. They wouldn't go to the passenger dockage for two people. Not unless they were high end VIPs and VIPs didn't ride freight shuttles. To switch docks was another hour for the flight crew, a couple hundred bucks of propellant for maneuvering jets and an expensive hour on the shuttle airframe to move it. The north end was industrial and lacked carpet and bright colors and shops. There would be an unlocked com pad at the airlock with a camera and touch pad for crew. Jon might not even send security all the way up to the north hub for one person, knowing both crew and she would direct them to check in.

"I don't know much about Home," Gunny spoke up from the other couch. "I mean I know about you, because I read your folder. That told me a little bit about Home, but otherwise I only know what I've seen on the news and we know how reliable that is. Are there any customs I should be aware of to avoid offending people?"

"I've been thinking about my own problems so much I didn't stop and think about what you need in practical terms," April admitted. "I have a bad habit of assuming everybody knows what I do and probably more. Look, I'm not sure who I'll get you placed with. I have to look at the companies my brother left me. One of them may need you," she assured him.

"Believe it or not we've got an actual employment agency running from before I came down. How about if you stay on as my bodyguard for a month? You hang out with me and I'll try to explain things as they come up. You can read the recordings of the public meetings when Home was formed. Especially the few before the war will explain how we voted to break off with North America, not what the press reported. You can meet people and get a feel for how things work. I have to go around and smooth things out with a whole lot of people. Don't be surprised if some of them are angry with me. I didn't get the basic things I intended to done on Earth and blew a bundle trying. But I don't think anybody will be angry enough to hurt me. Guarding me shouldn't be hazardous."

"How much are you paying and where would I stay?"

"Say, a seventy a month plus basic cafeteria access and your air and water fees. The Holiday Inn is really too expensive for a month. Let me see if the company still lets transients rent out space in the company barracks."

"Seventy?"

"Yeah, thousand dollars, USNA, unless you insist on EuroMarks."

"That seems, generous," he said. So generous he was somewhat dubious.

"It won't after your first two hundred dollar t-shirt or you need to buy a cheap lunch off station and the best you can find is a forty-five dollar thin cheeseburger, ten dollar fries and a fifteen buck beer with a ten buck tip. It's gotten worse since so much lift capacity was lost in the war."

"I see," Gunny said, slightly stunned at those numbers.

"If we hadn't had the devaluation back the year before I was born think what it would be."

"That's of course easy for me to remember. My paycheck was suddenly one tenth what it was the month before. The prices didn't all instantly adjust either. I kept a bunch of clean uncirculated greenback notes figuring they would be worth more as collectibles in my lifetime rather than turn them in. I'm pleased I'm on the plus side of that deal already."

"But if they were in your house or a bank box you might never recover them."

"No, no. They're out in the piney woods. You have to dig down as far as my arm will reach  under a big old pine tree where you have to crawl under the branches. You get down there and you find a screw out cap. Then the stuff is on a line hanging down at the end of a three meter plastic pipe. There's old money, some newer money, a few gold coins and a spare pistol. I'm sure I'll be able to recover it someday. I have the GPS coordinates memorized."

"That kind of caching things is hard to do on an orbital habitat."

"Not at all. I can hide stuff on a ship or an aircraft. That's one way I can earn my keep. I will teach you how to cache stuff so others don't find it while I'm working for you. Perhaps there are a few other tricks an old man can teach you if you want," he sounded amused again.

April was still processing the original question. "Gunny, we don't have many customs different from North America, after all most of us are recently from North America even if we were ignoring a lot of the stupider regulations. The reasons we separated aren't about everyday living for the most part. I can't think of anything important, but I'm sure we'll run into little things as you get settled in. But we do have a lot less laws," she emphasized.

"Don't assume anything you see is illegal by ground side standards. You can use your judgment to let your minor child alone in your apartment, or let them go to the cafeteria unsupervised. They can be in public in short sleeves or even shorts. Marijuana and tobacco are legal to own and use, but it is against regulations to pollute the air or have an open flame in public spaces. And you can own and carry any crazy sort of weapon you want."

"Burn in thirty seconds," announced their pilot. After a very short burn there were a couple minor taps on the attitude jets and the lurch of the grapples pulled them the final couple centimeters flush to the station with a >clunk<.

The second officer passed through and opened the airlock hatches. The pilot waited at the hatch of the flight deck for them to exit before she'd leave her vessel. There was the slight pressure change when it opened and they had to swallow and force a yawn to get their ears to feel right. Neither had any carry-on to deal with. April motioned Gunny ahead. He'd never been in zero G and she wanted to be behind him to watch and help him. He was so big he sort of blocked the view, which is why she was to the outer door before she saw it was the tunnel for the south end passenger docks.

She grabbed the edge of the flange. "Why aren't we up at the freight docks?" she asked their copilot. "You didn't have to dock here for us."

"We were told using the north docks would create a problem. It isn't big enough to handle a crowd meeting the shuttle," she explained.

Just then Gunny reached the end of the tube. It did have a line for newbies to go hand over hand. April heard a loud swell of voices. She hurried after him without another word to the crewwoman. Where the tunnel opened up there was Jon manning the entry station himself and here, outside spin where they restricted access, were her parents and Jeff and Heather, Ruby and Easy, Eddie, Doris, her Grandpa Happy and a couple of Jon's off duty people as well as a half dozen of the militia guys.

Looking through the entry bearing opening to spin there were folks packed elbow to elbow around the rail looking down through the short tunnel at them, turning slowly and there was a banner tied on the rail that said, "Welcome Home April". It was so long you had to watch it make a full turn to read it all. The noise level indicated there were quite a few folks out of sight on the spin side of the opening behind the ones at the rail.

For a wonder somebody had bothered to clean up the graffiti along the hairline crack that marked the seal and rotating and zero G sections. The last time April was here an elaborate ocean liner on the spin side had been cruising around and around on a circular sea drawn on the non-rotating end. There would be something new up in a week at the most. When she was younger someone had done a Model T going past an old fashioned town.

She looked up and most of them waved at her. What else could she do without looking stuck-up? She waved back. Then a dozen people all tried to hug her at once and she was squished. Somebody had her left hand and gently squeezed it. She couldn't even see who it was so she just squeezed back.

She folded her other arm over her sore ribs, worried she'd get bumped but people were careful though they still reached to touch her hand or shoulder.

Gunny had been signing in at the entry com before she'd looked up and waved. It didn't look like she was going to get a chance to log in. She was more or less swept along by both hands and elbows as the mass of friends and family all took off for the rim of the bearing like a bird flock. Somebody kindly grabbed her by the belt in back and pulled her over to the rail as they approached it.

She gave the rail a token touch but there was no need to swing over it. More hands grabbed her patting back or arm or shoulder, whatever they could reach, urging her along and a succession of people most of whom she at least knew by sight hugged her.

The astonishing thing was the tone of the brief greetings spoken softly in her ears as she was passed along. "Good job, good job, welcome back." – "You scared us. Damn Earthies." – "Hated to see you on the slumball, but thanks for going." – "'bout time you came Home dammit."

She had home and a bed in mind, but ended up at the cafeteria, carried along in a human tide. A hand fell on her shoulder and a male voice asked what she wanted? "Coffee please," she told the fellow, giving the hand a touch. Wasn't he from maintenance? She wasn't sure.

The coffee when it came had whisky in it. Pretty good whisky by the smooth taste. She didn't object. Music started up low enough to allow conversation and people started dancing on the other end of the room. The chairs all scooted down and one with a stunned looking Gunny was inserted next to her.

Somebody reached past and slid a plate unasked in front of April and then Gunny. They had a nice petite steak and fresh rolls and butter. It didn't take long before a cold shrimp plate and sweet potato chips and fruit salad got passed down the table to them.

Gunny had a glass of amber fluid, the same as hers minus the coffee. "I've never seen so many civilians with weapons," he said in shock, "and all of them pissed off at you just like you warned me," he said straight faced over the noise. "I'm moving. People want to talk to you and I'm just in the way."  He moved down to the end of the table but opposite so he could see her.

The chairs next to April kept changing owners. Eddie took too long talking to her and somebody grabbed his chair back and dragged him off into the crowd. The next chair was just slid down and it was her mom.

"I am so glad to see you," April turned and hugged her as best she could sitting down. "I thought I'd just come home and get Dad to settle my hired man Gunny in and I could go to bed and sleep a shift. Do they still sell transient bunking down in the Animal House?"

"He's your bodyguard isn't he?" her mom asked.

"Yeah, but I just have him on a thirty day contract. I imagine I'll find him a slot somewhere else. I don't really need him here," she insisted. "He's sort of another rescue. He got caught up in the politics for guarding me and they wanted to arrest him."

"You should keep him close, not all the way across the station. We boxed all Bob's stuff up for you and gave away his clothing to charity, but the cubic is still partitioned off and there is still a bed in there. Why don't you stick him in there for now?" her Mom offered.

"Wouldn't that make you feel weird, having somebody in Bob's room?"

"I'm not going to make it a shrine. Some folks leave everything like it was as if maybe the person will walk back in some day if they keep it the same. I'm sad, but that's just sick.  I'm not in denial, Honey. I just haven't got around to hiring out the remodeling to tear it out. Go ahead and use it. Even a hot bunk with a small locker is around two hundred-fifty a day in company housing. No reason to throw that away. Besides, if you have a bodyguard, use him for now. The same people who would hurt you down on Earth might infiltrate somebody here."

"Okay Mom, thanks." April had worried. She always felt her Mom favored Bob, just like she was sure she and her Dad were closer. But if she didn't seem any warmer, she didn't seem any cooler either. That was a relief.

When Bob had gotten so selfish and driven he'd tried to take advantage of their parents. Her Dad had firmly resisted. April wasn't sure if her Mom could have denied him without her Dad to quietly point out what was reasonable and not. She worried she'd be blamed for Bob's actions, but so far nobody was looking daggers at her.

"I'm whipped. This is nice, but I need to get home and get some sleep."

"Collect your man then and we'll go home. These folks are all charged up and out of sync with your day by almost twelve hours. Let them party on and you can talk to them when you aren't sleep deprived," her mom urged.

April gave Gunny a 'come on' jerk of the head and he excused himself. It was Mr. Muños next to him. That was a good choice to find out a lot about Home in short order. But he had to be tired too. He could speak to him another day.

Chapter 2

The next morning when she got up it felt strange to be in her own room. Somehow it made her feel about eight years old. She showered and dressed and when she went out Gunny was sitting watching the recording of the second assembly of Home. "You been up long?" she asked.

"Hours and hours. It's been boring and I thought I'd go mad waiting."

"Just got up, huh?"

"Yeah, I did see your mom before she took off. She explained something you should know. Part of the reason everybody was in such a jolly mood when we arrived. Last night when we were in Tonga, the Patriot Party made a big move and tried to pull a coup on Wiggen. They let them carry it out far enough to really nail down who were talkers and who seriously intended to overthrow the government. There were about seven hundred arrested and about three hundred killed. The Patriot Party is pretty much gutted. Word was getting out while we were on our way up in the shuttle. Most folks here figure you precipitated it with Harrison."

"Does that change anything for you?"

"Not for the better! They were willing to allow me to be arrested if it helped them flush out all the bad guys. Never mind the danger to me or to you. That terminates my service. I gave them years of loyal service and they'll use me like that? I'm done."

"I don't blame you, but wouldn't it be smart to leave as gently as possible? You know they screwed you and you're angry, but if you can leave and still get your retirement, sell your house and feel free to go down there again openly… Well, I've heard living well is the best vengeance. If things get back to normal and I can call Wiggen, I might even be able to put in a good word for you."

"Amazing advice from a young lady who ends her disputes by orbital bombardment."

"How about if we go get some breakfast? I think much better on a full belly," April said, ignoring the accusation.

* * *

Gunny declared the cafeteria breakfast 'not bad'. April bought him the standard service plan and he got his own card. He could get anything on the menu as often as he wished. Any special orders or catering he had to pay upfront. Air and water fees she'd arrange off her pad.

April pointed out a number of characters while they ate and told a few stories about them. Nobody mobbed them but five different people stopped and welcomed her back. They walked out down the main business corridor and she pointed out the bank, employment agency, ship's chandler and general store, as well as a new shop opened since she'd left offering bespoke clothing for men and women.

"Is there a gun shop? I really need to buy something. Is that a problem here?" he added.

"Nah, you want a laser?" April suggested. "I have to go get one for myself from Jeff and explain why I loaned mine out. I can try to get you a deal if you want."

"As much as I'd like to try one out, I'd rather go with what I know right now."

"In that case, Zach sells firearms," she turned back to the Home Chandlery and Provision Company. "I remember seeing them on his special board."

First thing she did at Zach's however, was buy Gunny spex and sign him up for com service. She figured she'd cover that as he might be on call. Then she let him see to his own pistol.

There were three pistols laying on the carpeted counter. Gunny wasn't happy with any of them. Two were caseless Sigs and one was a Portio Custom Arms chambered for 10mm Hornady. He'd never carried that caliber before, but it looked like he was going to try it.

"What kind of ammo you stock in the long 10mm?"

"Full metal jacket for cheap shooting, frangible copper rounds, special segmented defense rounds,  memory metal rounds, armor piercing and special hard core armor piercing."

"A box of each and three of the cheap plinking stuff. I need a hanging holster and a lefty inside the waistband clip holster. You got a leather holster? I'd rather that than synthetic."

"I do indeed. And I will throw in a free cleaning kit and a bottle of neatsfoot oil."

Gunny tried his new card and was relieved it worked. He loaded and holstered the new gun and clipped it inside his pants on the left, cross-draw. The rest was bagged. He reached and touched hands lightly with Zack instead of shaking grounder style.

"Ah, another little custom thing," April said, embarrassed she hadn't told him.

"Yeah Mr. Muños taught me that one last night in the cafeteria. I think he's going to be a friend. He impressed me. That feels better," he said, pressing the pistol against his hip with his elbow.

They walked back home in companionable silence. "What is on the agenda for the day?" he finally asked when they were inside.

"I need to talk with my Grandpa about Bob's businesses. I suppose Jeff and Heather next and Eddie Persico or the other way around if one is busy," she prioritized. She put a call in to her com and waited. "And I need to get back with my Japanese study group and see if I learned anything visiting the Santos. I'm hoping my instructor thinks my accent is a little less horrible."

"You're still in school?" The idea seemed to surprise him.

"I don't ever expect to not be in school. There's too much to learn. I need a ticket for ground landing shuttles too and I bet I'll never get back to Hawaii before my student driver permit expires. I'll have to start all over again," she complained.

Gunny just horse-snorted through his nose in amusement.

"Hello little gal," her Grandpa greeted her on the com screen.

"Gramps, when can we get together and talk?"

"Right now if want. I'm at home."

"Yeah, please. Come on around." His apartment was cut out of common cubic, like Bob's room, but it had its own door on the public corridor. It was a seven meter walk. He had the codes so he came right in a minute later. April introduced Gunny who went off to the other side of the room and seemed to get engrossed in his pad. Gramps had a cheap portfolio, well stuffed.

"I know you're probably wondering if this was something your brother did after your breakup with him. I think you will be happy to know he wrote a will leaving everything to you right after your first business venture together. Remember what that was?" He asked smiling.

"The  meal delivery service? Where we picked up a meal from the cafeteria and delivered it to peoples apartments? I was what? Nine years old?"

"No, even a little before that. I think you supplied the money again, because he's spent all his and he took care of all the footwork."

"Oh, the used clothing. He offered to buy clothing from tourists after they wore it. Why clean it or take it back to Earth when he'd give them more than the retail price for dirty and used? That worked out pretty well didn't it? Even though we got maybe two or three tourists a month then."

"It did," her Gramps agreed. "It's interesting, Bob sold the company off, but retained an interest. He was still getting a small income from it. He did that with almost every venture that succeeded. Individually they aren't much but they add up to a nice little income. Here, there is a folder on each one and notes about any obligations you have." He gave her a short stack of hard copy and a memory chip.

"Then making me his heir wasn't something he did in guilt. It gives me hope I didn't cause his other – behaviors."

"We're all responsible for ourselves little gal. You can influence people, but blaming your behavior on others is a lie. Nobody made your brother selfish," he insisted. "If you assign blame for what a person is then who made Eddie generous? See? If a person has good qualities people are happy to allow it is their own volition. In fact I imagine it was just plain inertia that you stayed his heir. It reflected his earlier personality, not lately."

"I don't understand why that happened. Mom and Dad are not selfish. You certainly aren’t selfish. He wasn't raised that way so where did it come from?"

Her Gramps shrugged. "People are complicated. I'm not sure it is learned. There are all sorts of things folks do that we just put up with because they are not extreme enough to warrant intervention. Where do you draw the line? Pretty soon you are counseling people for taking the last biscuit."

April remembered some fellows who rushed to hog all the stuff in the beam dog's cafeteria and saying something to them didn't sound extreme to her at all, but she didn't say it.

"We gave Bob's clothing and shoes and stuff we were sure you wouldn't want to charity. Fred Folsom who works in station com preaches a Sunday service and keeps a charity locker of household things for folks who need a hand," he explained.

"We saved this for you though," he said opening the box he'd kept to last and laying the contents out on the couch between them.

A few memory modules were a mystery she'd have to explore, a food service card he apparently didn't like to carry. A couple certification cards for environmental tech and some IT specialties. A couple hard prints of photos. The one on top was a girl on a beach. That must be her grandparent's neighbor in Australia. Decency dictated she should be notified of his death.

There was a short stack of business cards with a rubber band. The top one was blank with a hand written blurb, probably a password. It said:  SAF)dz$PckXib.  Out of curiosity she checked and the other side was blank too. A tiny two bladed pen knife was sharp and apparently unused. It had elaborately embossed and enameled handles with a level of finish that said expensive. There was also a common multi-tool still new in the box.

Oddly there was a man's tie, something she had never seen Bob wear. It was so different she could see why they saved it out of the clothing for her, besides being a mystery. It was very pretty, with shades of blue and grey in a fine basket weave and subtle dark red edging to the grey parts, rolled to fit in a small clear box that was almost a cube. On the back a little label said, 'Hermes – Paris and underneath that, SILK. She rolled it back up and fit it in the box again.

"I suspect these things were gifts," her Gramps suggested.

That left a small decorative box. It had a sliding top in a dovetail groove, but no notch for your finger like most of that sort had. Fitted so closely it wouldn't slip on its own. The grain was matched to the body so maybe they didn't want to mar that. There was a band of carving around the sides and a very complicated dragon inlaid on each end. She pushed the slide open with her thumbs. The inside was divided with thin wooden partitions.

There was a substantial rose gold chain. What they call an anchor chain but the links were puffy like they had been made out of dough and allowed to rise. There were some plain gold hoops, an impressive pair of simple diamond studs and the emerald and diamond earrings her grandparents had given Bob. April pulled those out and held them. She couldn't help it, she started quietly sobbing.

"Those mean something to you," her grandpa said, arm around her shoulders. She couldn't answer, she just nodded yes. She put them back in the box. The chain she put on over her head. Her Gramps held her until she stopped crying. Then they put everything back in the portfolio and  closed it up.

"I'll read the business summaries in the next couple days," April promised.

"They've been waiting this long, a couple more days isn't going to matter," he assured her. He went in the kitchen and made them tea without asking. He used the big tea pot and carried a cup to Gunny too who nodded his thanks.

"What are you going to do now?" her Gramps asked gently. He must think her fragile, April realized. He never used that hushed tone of voice. But she had cried.

"I have to see Heather and Jeff, she still has the Moon thing going on. Eddie deserves to hear what all his money bought. That looks a little better than it did yesterday. At least we know the Patriot party isn't going to be in power next year. What are you doing now?"

"I'm helping Heather get her expedition ready as I promised you. Jeff and I are still working on some things even though we have the next generation of ship designed. We are saving up ideas for the next level of ship and beyond. I'm getting some treatments from Jelly you were worried I'd skip. He can do everything important for life extension therapy without me going down to Italy. I'll see you soon, dear," her Gramps promised and patted her knee. He got up and made a abbreviated wave of his hand to Gunny who wasn't even looking up and left.

She took the personal items in her room and returned to the living area. It seemed rude to disappear and leave Gunny alone without a word. It wasn't exactly like having a guest, she thought. But it wasn't like anything else that fit the rules of behavior she'd picked up either. She contacted Jeff and Heather and agreed to see them over supper. Gunny saved her from wondering what to do by announcing he was still not adjusted to Zulu time and he was going to take a nap. That sounded pretty good actually, so she told him she would nap too.

Chapter 3

It was too late for lunch and too long until supper when April woke up. She searched in the kitchen and there wasn't much to snack on. Her parents weren't stocking much with just the two of them here. Suddenly April really wanted her own place with whatever she wanted in the frig, not worrying about if somebody would miss that last carton of yogurt if she ate it. Would she ever be able to safely visit the house she bought in Hawaii again? She wasn't even through furnishing it and she'd needed to run for her life. She'd never felt such a strong need to have her own space before. She'd always been content with her room.

Cubic was so expensive and she was spoiled having her own tiny bath. Was Eddie going to want some money back? That could make buying cubic hard. He seemed happy with her last night in the cafeteria, but he'd hardly shout private business in her ear in that mob.

Her gramps told her whatever she didn't use was hers to keep when they sent her down, but then she'd rushed back early and still wasn't that sure she'd accomplished as much as everybody seemed to think when she got back. Better not to think ahead on spending what might get clawed back. She decided that, if they wanted it back, to be gracious about it and not complain.

There was some cheese spread and she checked in the cupboard. A carton of crackers was almost full. She took them in the big room and called up the news with stock quotes in the corner. She added Bob's stocks under hers in the display from the hard copy Gramps gave her. She was only holding a few issues long when she went down to Earth.

Bob had more equities than her and she had no idea what some of them were. One showed a week long trend down a good 8% and she just sold it rather than start reading a big history and analysis. She'd have to establish she had control of the stocks with the brokerage house, but for now she had his login and password so she could trade them unless somebody had notified them of Bob's death. As she suspected it executed the trade with no problem.

In the news window she left open the Louisiana State Police conducted a sweep of public land and corporate timber stands eradicating hidden plots of guerrilla gardeners. Unlicensed food gardens were both a way to evade accurate census counts and a source of black market income.

They vowed to post guards on conventional farming acreage to prevent a repeat of last year when illicit gardeners burned licensed farm fields in retaliation for their losses. The fires spread to timber land and destroyed a number of buildings. Official losses were classified under national security since it was considered terrorist activity.

California passed a bill requiring bathing costumes to cover the elbows and knees on all public beaches and parks and making the possession and use of still or video cameras on a public beach a misdemeanor.

Tennessee introduced a bill making it a misdemeanor to sit any object on top of the Holy Bible (King James version) with a thousand dollar fine.

New York faced a firestorm of public criticism for suggesting an ordinance that would prohibit sending children anywhere unescorted in an automated ground car. Parents protested such a law would leave them unable to work and send their children to school safely.

Detroit Michigan announced a new initiative to revitalize the city, noting the core population had stabilized at twenty-two thousand now for three years. The pressure to dig up the old underground utility feeds in abandoned areas for the scrap value was running into opposition from those who didn't want lines of clear cut dug up through the state owned wooded zone between New Detroit and the suburbs. The scheme was branded as suburban greed by the city council, claiming the recovered funds would go to the state not the city.

Little Jocko the Clown died and over a hundred mourners who attended his funeral in New Jersey wearing his face pattern were charged with copyright infringement by his agency.

The Holistic Open School in London proclaimed reading was an unnecessary skill given universal character recognition and audio reading programs in every pad and com unit and eliminated the requirement from all their base courses of study. It was retained in a select group of courses in the arts program described as 'arcane' skills and as an aid for the few incurable deaf.

Gold was briefly higher than Platinum in early trading on the New Delhi exchange. Americans could not own the metal unless it was jewelry of 'artistic merit'. April wasn't sure if the piece around her neck qualified. Artistic appreciation seemed to vary from judge to judge.

The America First Party said they had removed a number of new members on suspicion of being secret Patriot Party members. They cited a loss of ideological purity the new influx would bring and a real danger of proximity to that failed organization either physically or in the taint their programs carried.

April agreed they should worry. She was going to speak with Heather about watching to make sure the Patriot party did not just reappear under a new name.

Gunny dragged out of – his room? Bob's room? It wouldn't matter soon if it was merged back into family cubic. He looked stunned and grumpy. April got up and started the coffee maker before he even asked.

"That bed is way too soft for me to sleep on," Gunny complained. "I woke up feeling like I was being consumed by this giant amoeba," he said with his hands doing an englobement. "I could sleep on the floor easier, I think."

"Oh, there's a control on the side that lets you set firmness and keep the bed warmer or cooler than the rest of the room. I didn't think to show it to you," she apologized.

"Everybody knows…" Gunny said smiling. "Won't be the last time that happens."

"I'm going to meet Heather and Jeff for supper. You want to come meet them and eat with us?" she invited. "They are good people to know on Home."

"I'd like to, yes. However this brings up an awkward question I should have anticipated. How many hours a day do I owe you? And how can they be staggered out? I don't mind working a shift or a block in the morning and a block in the evening. But I'd rather not work late and then have to get up and start early without sufficient rest. Unless it is an emergency of course. And am I on duty any time I am with you? Or will we socialize too?"

"Why wouldn't we socialize? We seemed to get along just fine on the boat. I mean, if you found out you don't really care for my company I certainly won't require you to be around me, but didn't you do stuff with the people you worked with on Earth?"

"No, very rarely. In the military you have a command structure. It's bad for discipline to blur those lines. Officers have a separate mess and don't socialize with someone too far away from their command level. Some units might have a picnic or something occasionally, but it's a special event understood to be outside the usual rules. It's the same as in business. The CEO doesn't have lunch with the janitor normally. And it's always the higher ranked guy who initiates and controls it if they do, not the other way around."

"I meet with a group Wednesday nights for exercise and we do Tai Chi," April told him. "The head of security is usually there and Jeff, but we have construction crew and radio room guys too. I guess we don't have as big a gap from the best jobs to the worst jobs here. There's some social layering, but it isn't just about who makes the most money."

Gunny looked a little skeptical. "Yeah, you might belong to a gym, or to a bicycle riding club or something like that and never even know what some of the people do for a living. But the people tend to be from similar social strata. If they are upper class they are going to belong to a country club and play golf or a sportsman's club and shoot skeet, not a bowling league."

"Does that mean you'd rather not ride if we need a fourth for our polo team?" April asked.

Gunny blinked at her. "Heh, you had me for a second there," Gunny admitted grinning.

"Do what you want tonight. You should have a couple days off really to acclimate and learn how everything works, like the bed. If you want to meet Heather and Jeff you are welcome to come along."

"Well, I have to eat anyway. Better with company than sitting in the cafeteria alone. I'll get to see if this guy is really eight foot high with laser beams shooting out of his eyes."

"You probably couldn't sit long in the cafeteria before somebody was curious about you and asked to join you. But come on. We're going to the beam dogs' cafeteria at the other end. It's quite a bit different. It caters to the short term workers, the young folks who work in vacuum.

"Does my new card work there too?"

"Yeah, but you asked about customs. Custom is we don't crowd the place when it is busy with actual workers near shift change. They need to eat and get to work or maybe eat and get to bed. But if you go a little off–time then everybody is welcome. I never thought of it when you asked because we don't have a lot of rules. One other I thought of – it is considered very poor form to wear strong scent of any kind. Sealed up in limited cubic it's rude to impose on others."

"Oh yeah. I've been stuck in an elevator with some old lady that just bathes in that crap. You like to faint away before your floor comes up and you can escape. That's a good one."

"Gunny, people raised up here, who have never had their sense of smell dulled by pollution have really sensitive noses. All my friends carry sanitary wipes and don't just wipe with paper after using the toilet, they wash with a wet wipe. You might think on adapting it because they will smell you if you don't. A lot of people shower mid-day too. I always shower if I go to the gym and work out or have a run."

"Is there any limit on water use? Or is it metered and the charges will add up?"

"No, we can use as much water as we want. But you can't retain any significant amount without permission. They use a low pressure still so it's cheap to recycle it. And they use a column separator to remove the other volatiles, so it is cleaner than most water you'd get down in the USNA."

In that case I better take a quick shower before we go," Gunny decided. "You need to tell me where to take my laundry too."

" And we'll set the house lock to your hand on the way out too," April promised.

* * *

When Gunny stepped out of the elevator it was his first visit to a partial G level. April had warned him so he was cautious. He walked a little normally, then tried breaking into a run, which was hard to do and making quick turns. There was a real lack of traction when you were lighter.

The corridor wasn't as fancy as at the full G level, although it wasn't as bare as an industrial corridor. They could smell the food as soon as they stepped out of the elevator and the music was a low beat. Gunny surprised her by dancing a skipping step ahead to the music. He moved lightly for a big guy. He spun around, totally adjusted to the lower G already and had a grin like she hadn't seen on him.

"That some good music," he declared. "Is that the Arrogant Aardvarks?"

"I don't know. I don't really follow popular music. I tend to stuff that's, uh, quieter."

"There's a time for quieter, but this makes you move."

Heather and Jeff were at a table near the buffet. There was a room to one end with a big screen and a little dance floor. The bar was in there and the music. The other side had another room with smaller screens, lounge furniture and tables that was perfect for gaming and cards. In between was a self serve counter where you could make your own burgers or omelets.

Heather got up and hugged April. Gunny went ahead and introduced himself to Jeff and sat down opposite. April did manage to introduce Heather formally and just patted Jeff on the arm.

"What are they serving today?" April asked.

"This week is Mexican/South American," Jeff answered. "The chiles rellenos, the empanadas and the feijoada are really good. The cheese and vegetable enchiladas have nopales and diced tomatoes in them. The cook will make fresh gorditas for you if you ask."

"Do you folks know those people?" Gunny asked with a slight nod. All three looked over at the loud bar and a dozen people waved and one fellow stuck his fingers in his mouth and let off a whistle that would shatter glass. They all waved back so Gunny joined in not wanting to look stuck up or unfriendly.

"I don't know any by name, but everybody knows April," Heather said matter of fact. April blushed but she'd learned talking to Jelly that protesting was usually counterproductive.

A big fellow in subtle tangerine shorts and a yellow silk t-shirt came over to their table with a tray. It had a large pitcher of dark beer and four glasses.

"Thanks for your service," he directed to April. "This is Apogee Amber. We had a brewing house open in Home last week. I highly recommend it."

He'd have left without pushing his company on them, but April asked his name.

"I'm Steve. I service pressure suits and hard shells too. I like to hang out with the folks who use them." He had a playful cartoon dragon tattoo around one wrist and a colorful and very Japanese cluster of chrysanthemums around the other. "Join us later if you have a mind to," he invited, gesturing at the party room.

"Maybe, thanks for the offer and the beer," April told him.

"The natives hold you in high esteem," Gunny observed, pouring for them. He surprised April by not objecting to the beer as a security risk.

"Beats the last time we were here," April noted. "We had a couple creeps steal our dinner, insult Heather and assault Jeff. I like this better."

"Oh my, that is good stuff," Heather agreed after a long sip.

"What, uh, was the ultimate outcome to that previous visit?" Gunny wondered.

"Oh, the cook came and read the riot act to the vacuum rats. One flipped out and acted like he was going to lay hands on the cook and Jeff stepped between them and they did a little dance that involved broken bones. Before it could get really ugly Jon the Security Chief came in the door and Air Tasered the guy in the head. After medical got him treated and trussed him up they tagged him for expulsion to the slumball."

Gunny looked at Jeff in a new light. He'd have to find out what sort of 'dance' that was.

They filled up plates off the steam table and Jeff put an order in for four gorditas. There was minimal talk until they were somewhat sated. The bartender delivered them another pitcher and informed them their money was no good here when they offered a card.

"So, what has happened while I was away?" April asked before hitting the buffet again.

"We almost had our first duel," Heather informed her.

"Wow, over what? A bad business deal? A woman? I know the assembly allowed for it but I never expected to see one happen very easily."

"Do you know the goofy looking guy in Supply named Albert?" Heather asked. "Albert Nielson? He is real lanky and looks like he cuts his own hair?"

"Sure, I've dealt with him to send you guys stuff in your regular deliveries. He makes weird jokes that don't make any sense, but he seemed harmless, certainly not violent."

"Well, when it finally dawned on him that all the old USNA laws were gone and we have created very few new laws of our own. He suddenly realized there was no law against public nudity. Seems he was a fan of going to nude beaches when he was an Earthie and he decided he could do the same here, but wherever he wanted. He showed up for lunch one day au naturel."

"I wasn't there, thankfully, but Wanda told me Mr. Gidley who has two young daughters tried to quietly talk to him about it and Nielson got all preachy about how healthy and natural it is and got kind of loud so everybody in the cafeteria got an earful to go with the eyeful. Gidley dropped trying to reason with him nicely and just informed him he found it a matter of his honor to preserve the custom of clothing and he didn't intend to have to sit staring at his hairy butt while he tried to eat, so he could show up with weapons at the north terminal corridor in the morning and they would settle it, or he could retract his stand on it and he'd let the matter pass."

"What if he refused to meet him and still refused to cover up?" Gunny asked, interested.

"In the fourth assembly of Home, they talked about avoiding all the nuisance laws Earth has, spitting on the sidewalk, what you can do in your own cubic like bake cookies or run a business. Stuff  like showing ID and sleeping on the grass in a park, licensing dogs They all seem like a good idea, examined one at a time." Heather explained, "but the cops can use them to make anybody they want to arrest a criminal instead of the original purpose. Especially the ones that are subjective like creating a public disturbance. Cops seem to be capable of seeing a disturbance easily if they have some reason not to like you. Collectively it gets to where it is impossible to live without breaking some law."

"Yes," Jeff agreed. "The same with consumer protection laws. Who can be a private investigator or run a restaurant or give haircuts. As if thousands were being felled by the scourge of dirty hair clippers. Pretty soon they are just a way to keep the current businesses from any competition. They have laws that forbid companies from advertising that their products are superior even though they are and can prove it. Laws about how many bugs are permitted in your breakfast cereal!" he said, disgusted.

"So, they decided not to get into those sort of laws and the whole mess of libel and slander laws that have never worked. If somebody offends you then you have the right to call them out on it. You can demand satisfaction and if somebody will neither satisfy you or meet you then the Assembly of Home will expel them."

"You said almost," Gunny remembered. "How was it averted?"

"Well, at first Albert told him not to be ridiculous, that he wasn't about to fight him. When he was told to read the assembly record he scoffed at it. Gidley just repeated that he needed to meet him in the morning. He pointed out it was his choice of weapons, or if he brought nothing they'd go at it bare handed."

"When he went and read the assembly record he realized he would be expelled if he didn't back down or fight him. When push came to shove, he called up Gidley before the morning and tried to apologize. Gidley said he wasn't looking for an apology. He just wanted him to put some pants on in public and acknowledge his acceptance, since it had become a public matter, mostly due to Albert's big mouth. Albert made up a very short text message saying in the matter between them about public nudity he was following the custom Gidley demanded rather than meet him to duel. He posted it to the com sent to 'all'. We don't get many 'all' postings."

"I've got mixed feelings about that," Gunny admitted. "Sooner or later some nut job is going to kill the reasonable fellow we all feel is in the right."

"Oh, absolutely," Jeff agreed. "It's just a question of whether this method ruins less lives than the myriad laws North America has. Certainly all those laws have hurt many people and even resulted in unjust deaths. Don't you agree?"

Gunny thought on it before answering. "True and if it doesn't work you can change it later. I suppose it's too much to expect that once you start making laws you'd be moderate."

"There doesn't appear to be any historical instance where it didn't eventually run amuck, I'm sorry to say. Better not to start. You should read the debate yourself," Jeff suggested.

"Oh, I will. I haven't finished the second assembly video yet. I'll get to them all."

"You're here to stay then?" Heather asked.

"I feel I got used badly down below. I'm wanted for arrest because I got caught between political factions I don't care about. I may go down for business if it's safe for me, but I'm done with the USNA to live there."

The look on Jeff and Heather's faces changed. There was some reserve that disappeared.

"Why don't we take some dessert over and join the folks who brought us beer?" Gunny suggested. "I think they'd very much appreciate it if their heroine visited a bit."

April snorted like it was a joke, but Heather and Jeff agreed it would be polite.

Gunny it seemed, loved to dance. April wasn't against the idea but had little experience. Jeff kindly showed her some steps and danced with Heather and a slim vacuum rat who looked like she wanted to eat him alive. He escaped however.

They ended up the three of them, April, Heather and Jeff, at a table watching Gunny dance. Their novelty had worn off and everybody who wanted to meet April had. They had drinks in front of them with no idea who had bought them. April was aware that would be dangerous on Earth. She felt safe here. Jeff tasted his and wasn't sure what it was but slightly fruity and very strong. They nursed them slowly after all the beer.

"You remember you strongly suggested we start a bank before you went to Earth?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, have you had time to look into it? Does it seem practical?"

"You assigned me your Rock rights. They have been allowing folks to take their payout in kind on much better terms than cash. The fab shops have been taking nickel and iron to make steel. There isn't much gold, but I got in early and grabbed us the rights to the platinum stream. They are only getting a hundred grams every three days or so now, but that will ramp up."  He reached in his pocket and got a disk and passed it to her.

It was smaller than the coin Papa-san Sato gave her on Earth. She'd been carrying that ever since but hadn't shown it to anyone. She fished the silver dollar out and traded it silently to Jeff, who laughed in surprise she'd have such a thing in her pocket.

The coin was heavier for its size. It had a deep relief but a heavy raised edge to protect it. The one side had an image of Home with the Rock trailing, closer than in reality, the arch of the Earth behind them and the Moon showing above it all.

She flipped it and there were no graphics on the other side. It said, System Trade Bank of Home and protected  by the raised rim, 25 grams Pt – 99.9999 Pure - One Solar - 0000000006.

"It's money," April exclaimed delighted. "But, Solar? Not EuroMarks or Dollars?  Won't its value go up and down with the price of platinum?  And a serial number?"

"It depends on your viewpoint," Jeff said. "I intend to deal honestly with people. If we are a known to be of good reputation and if Earth governments keep treating people as disposable, well, it is possible people would regard the value of a dollar or EuroMark as going up or down against a Solar. The serial number lets you document payment."

April looked uncertain.

"Do you take Argentine money if you have a choice?" Jeff asked her.

"No way and I'm not that thrilled to take Brazilian or Macedonian either."

"See? Money does have a reputation. You trade your own stocks don't you?"

"I do, in a very limited way," April admitted. "Bob got into all kinds of shorts and puts and calls and straddles. I mostly buy something promising and hold it long."

"You already have formed opinions about the markets then. May I suggest you take some economics courses? I'm not saying the things you learn will be right or wrong, but it matters what other people think makes the economy work. It helps you predict their actions."

"After you have some ideas about economic theory then we can talk about how the bank will work. They haven't separated enough platinum yet to matter, so this is just one of a few prototypes, but the bank exists, not just on paper, but in reality enough it would be hard for people to try to stop us from having it now. We're grandfathered in as they say."

"So I'm part owner of a sort of a ghost bank that doesn't have much yet in assets, but it will as they keep mining the Rock?"

"Exactly. And I'm already doing various small transactions so there is a record of the bank existing and forming contracts from several days ago. If I let out contracts to fabbers I use it. And we will take deposits from Earthies. I'm soliciting them by word of mouth only and have several account holders already."

"Nice. Can I get a loan to buy some cubic?"

"The bank can loan you one Solar," Jeff offered gravely. "Can you offer any collateral?"

"How about an antique silver dollar?"

"A done deal. I'll have your loan papers tomorrow. Perhaps you'd like to put some funds on account with us?" he asked very formally.

"Maybe. Let me talk to Eddie first and we'll see," April said remembering another worry. "I'm tired and I drank too much, " she announced. "I need to go home and it's a long way back."

"You stayed at our place before," Heather reminded her. "I'm ready to go home too. Drop a message at your family com and come stay with me. It's pretty close."

"Okay, I'm going to tell Gunny." She waved him over.

"I'm not going home tonight. Can you find your way back yourself?"

"Sure, I know the way. But I might not make it back until tomorrow myself," He went back to his dance before she could register her surprise.

"Nice to see your man fitting in so well," Heather said with a smirk.

Chapter 4

Sleeping in low G was a treat. You barely dented the mattress. It was almost like floating on your back in water. She still had her clothes on from last night. Either she or Heather had managed to get her shoes off. She had no memory of it. She was in the back against the wall and Heather was curled up arms crossed in front of her and head pinning April's arm. In this low G it didn't even cut off the circulation and make it tingly.

April could see the glow of the clock on the com board, but it wasn't pointed this way. Not that she had any appointments. It was just habit to know. Her bladder was telling her it was on a timeline though. She hated to wake Heather up.

Heather saved her the trouble by waking and stretching like a cat. Then she seemed to realize she wasn't alone, the extra arm gave it away and tried to get up real slowly and not disturb April.

"I'm awake. No need to be sneaky, but hurry back so I can have a turn at the bathroom."

"Okay," she went off barefoot and left the door open a crack. When she came back she had a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

"You need anything for your head?" she offered, squinting.

"I'm good. I'll be right back." She used the toilet and washed her face and rinsed her mouth out. Maybe Heather would loan her some shorts and a top. They'd be too big but clean.

Heather was back in bed with an arm thrown over her eyes.

"You didn't drink much more than me," April protested. "A couple beers with supper and that one drink after we moved you didn't even finish. Maybe you just have a headache. It happens."

"No, I get one sometimes from just a single glass of wine. I should know better. The Naproxen will kick in soon and it'll dull it. Breakfast will help too."

"Can I borrow some gym shorts and a t-shirt? I'll run my stuff through the quick cycle and put 'em back on after breakfast."

"Top left and middle right drawers," she offered with a wave of her hand, eyes still closed. "You shower first and I'll lie here and let the pills do their thing."

When she came back Heather was asleep again. She eased back out and stuffed her clothing from last night in the laundry unit. It would pump it down and vacuum tumble it on quick cycle. Good enough one time for something she only wore six hours or so.

Barak, Heather's little brother, was hanging around out in the big room looking forlorn. He brightened up to see her.

"Hi April. Wow, I haven't seen you in a long time. You've got Heather's stuff on."

"Yep, I didn't go home last night. Heather let me stay here. She's back asleep so I'm going to just be quiet until she wakes up again. "

"She didn't drink again did she? She can't do that," he assured her solemnly.

"Indeed, you are right, she did and is paying for it."

"Let's make breakfast then. She'll want it when she staggers out."

"I'm not sure I want to mess with your Mom's kitchen. She might have something planned."

"Nah, she's on New Las Vegas and won't be home until Tuesday. I can make pancakes. You want me to show you how?"

"I'd love to make pancakes with you," April agreed.

April put the wall screen on a news channel with the sound low. Barak didn't object.

Sir Tremont, of daredevil fame, announced his intention of doing the first circumnavigation of the globe in a private submarine, starting from London and returning underwater.

The city manager of Kennebunk Maine, who seized an entire block of historic homes by eminent domain and converted them into a wing of the local seafaring museum and amusement park was missing. No group claimed responsibility or as the news anchor misspoke – credit.

The Nuclear Regulatory Commission again ruled that a Bussard fusion reactor was a nuclear reactor whether it generated residual radiation or not and could only be built with a full site, containment building and all the safeguards and monitoring equipment of a fission plant.

Gloria Yoder of Doylestown Ohio was convicted of distributing zucchini from her garden to family members not meeting the definition of 'immediate' according to the Pure Food act of 2031. She was sentenced to six months in Federal prison and lifetime parole due to a defiant pattern of repeat offenses.

"Do you have to be crazy to live down there?" Barak asked.

"I suspect you go crazy if you stay down there even if you started out okay," April said.

Heather woke up again to a strong spicy scent that made her mouth water. She used the bath again showering and letting the hot water beat on her face. By the time she was presentable Barak and April had the grill and most of the dishes cleaned up. On the table was a plate of pancakes with pumpkin pie spice and pecans in them and hot sausage patties. A small fry pan was waiting to finish off eggs for her. Best of all somebody had made coffee.

"You're hired," Heather decided. "When can you start girl?"

"Barak showed me how. I had no idea how to make a pancake," April admitted.

"Mmmm. I may have to promote him to minor minion."

"What is he now?"

"Just barely above a nuisance."

"It isn't nice to talk about people like they aren't there," Barak protested.

"It isn't nice to put a tea bag in somebody's wet wash."

"That was a long time ago."

"Three months."

"See?"

"I think three months seems longer to Barak than to you," April offered.

"Whose side are you on?" Heather asked beady eyed.

"Yours, in the long run. Barak is a resource."

"Umm," Heather restrained her tongue with a visible effort.

"So, we had an almost duel and you got the bank started on paper. I can't believe nothing else happened while I was gone," April said trying to change the subject.

"Those are the biggies. I think we were hesitant to speak around Gunny at first. They got a company started to go capture a snowball. Probably from around Jupiter. It's going to be tough making the actual vessels to do it. There is still a shortage of all sorts of materials. We don't have the cash to buy into a share, but maybe we can get some work from them. Jeff would rather we wait and get involved in a stony asteroid capture. I can't start to tell you all the foreign money coming into Home now. Not USNA but the smaller ones, Greece and Italy and Iceland. You'd have to be stupid not to grab a share of it."

"Is the suit cleaning module selling?"

"Oh yeah, but how many p-suits are there to de-stink? It's a limited market. He's always coming up with nice little inventions like that. They are steady money, but not a big hit. Let's go in the living room where there are cushions," Heather said and topped off her coffee. Barak cleaned up her dishes without being asked.

Heather sat in a love seat and squinted. "House, dim lights thirty percent," she ordered. "Jeff and I have some friends on the moon working on making our own semiconductors. We have a lot of germanium in the Rock and when they vacuum distill it out it isn't that far off the purity needed to make diodes and transistors. Its use has kind of lagged silicon in the industry, but if it's what you own a ton of then it's time to look into using it again. We're looking at how we can use iridium and gallium too because there will be a lot of that. The lunar people keep asking about our real estate venture on the moon. Not that I don't welcome their business, but I don't understand why they don't just claim right by where they live. It's not like there aren't plenty of wide open spaces."

April sat in an opposing love seat. They were almost sofa size, crème leather and had a narrow table between them of that was polished stone with tiny little fossil shells in it. It must have cost a fortune to lift to orbit. Barak came in from the kitchen and surprised her by sitting hip to hip and wiggled under her arm.

"He's got a crush on you," Heather told her.

April felt him stiffen. "He's welcome to have a crush on me," April said, giving him a squeeze. "I might steal him away and have pancakes every morning," she joked.

"I'm not old enough to have a crush," Barak protested, embarrassed still.

"A crush isn't necessarily about sex," Heather explained. "There's a guy in the radio room has a man-crush on Jeff and he's straight as can be, but he just adores him. Maybe English doesn't have good words for it, admiration, idolization, fandom, it's something like that."

"I like April," Barak said taking her hand and pulling her arm around him tighter. "I think that's a good thing. You do too. All three of you look happier when you're doing stuff together."

"True," Heather agreed."She scared the snot outta me going to Earth. It's nasty down there."

"Maybe we should put one of your drives on Home like they did the Rock and push it off around Mars or someplace further away from Earth." Barak suggested.

"Now there's an audacious plan. If you suggest that to Jeff he'll start planning how."

April didn't think it was all that farfetched.

* * *

Gunny was intently studying the screen when she came in after noon. It was almost time to have lunch despite her late breakfast. She decided not to ask if he made it home last night. He hadn't quizzed her and it was none of her business.

"How can you operate Home on the taxes you charge?" Obviously that was what he was reading. "I'd pay less tax here than the property tax on my house in Maryland, never mind income taxes, sales taxes, retirement taxes and medical taxes, excise taxes, luxury taxes and fees on my phone and automobile and, well, you get the idea."

"We pay air and water and fees for infrastructure maintenance. If an airlock controls go bad or a lamp in the corridors burns out they fix it. They have to keep the air plant up and cover leakage and stuff. There is a small set fee to cycle an airlock. If they ever have to do something huge like replace a station bearing at either end it'll cost us thousands of dollars each."

"That's just like a condominium fee to keep common elements up. It's cheap."

"Then you will probably want to pay tax so you can vote on stuff, right?"

"Not until I get my status straightened out with the Navy. I decided you are right and I should leave as gently if possible. You still feel like talking to Wiggen for me?"

"I'm happy to try," She looked at the com clock. "It's nine something in her morning. I find most people are still putting out fires and sorting things out at that hour."

"Yes, but if you wait too long they are hungry for lunch and will be irritable or blow you off so they can go to lunch. Same thing towards the end of the day. You know, there is probably only an hour – hour and a half twice a day it's optimum to call a working person."

"Okay, lunch first and then we call Wiggen. Print me out a cheat sheet with the names of the guy who sent you to me and the one who wanted to arrest you and anything else I need."

"Ruby, this is Gunny. He's working for me, at least temporarily. Ruby is the best cook on Home. She can do special orders if you have taste for something.

"Huh, got you some muscle," Ruby said appraising him frankly. "I saw him when you came home. Wasn't sure who was guarding who. He looks like he'll do," she decided checking out the gripes showing above his waist band and offered her hand to touch.

"Ma'am, a pleasure to meet you."

"All mannerly too. Very nice."

"What's fresh?" April asked.

"We have some really nice cantaloupe and some raspberries that are over ripe and may be gone tomorrow. They finally got some sausage that may be hot enough to suit you."

"I'd like a double order of pancakes with the raspberries in them and on top too. A half cantaloupe and a couple patties of the hot sausage."

"And you, big boy?" Ruby asked Gunny.

"Same, but just two pancakes, please."

Ruby squinted at him. "On a diet?"

"Indeed, I have to limit my carbohydrates or I start to pack it on."

"You fooled me. I was sure you were gene mod like this one," She nodded at April. She turned away and started their orders.

When she came back Gunny couldn't help himself. "Ma'am, may I ask why you thought I was modified?"

"Your eyes. The doc who is modified to be so fast has quick eyes. They track side to side faster than normal. April was the same way after she had that mod. You've got the same look."

"Thank you. I appreciate the information." She seemed to have more, but just nodded.

"Not much gets past her does it?" Gunny asked when they were well away.

"She's smart and pretty fast for an unmodified person. You might find it interesting she was a professor of Medieval Music. Her husband was the command pilot last year who set up the ambush of the Pretty as Jade and the James Kelly and destroyed them."

"I take it one should be polite to his wife as a matter of self interest?"

"Yes, but also she is trained with weapons herself, being an experienced loadmaster on combat aircraft. Not to mention she prepares your food," she added after consideration.

"A small kindness now and then even seems appropriate," he looked back, reappraising.

"I do a little trade with her," April said and then regretted it.

"What do you supply? Spices or something?" Gunny asked innocently.

"Information," April admitted. Determined not to lie to him.

Gunny opened his mouth like he was going to say something and reconsidered. "This coffee is okay, but not as good as at your house," he said after a tiny pause.

"Thank you. We carry the same blend on our ships."

"Ten-fifteen in DC," April said checking her pad on the way back. "Let's do it."

April had Gunny sit to the side of the camera angle. His note was in front of her. She punched in the number Wiggen gave her when she was staying with the Satos in Hawaii. It had failed when they tried using it during the coup.

A young man in an Earthie style business suit appeared. "Please do not identify yourself. This number is among a group which was compromised. Your number is no longer useable, but a new number will appear on your screen which is not available to me. If you have code words or authentication procedures they remain valid and will be required to validate the new number.  Please record or memorize the new number before disconnecting. This number will return to general service within 30 days and will not work again." The screen went gray except for a ten digit number and a blank entry box.

April recorded it and hesitated. She had no password. On a guess she typed April Lewis and hit enter. The system accepted that and disconnected.

"Well, looks like we're not the only ones couldn't get through," Gunny said.

April punched the new number in. She didn't get Wiggen, she got a very well dressed middle aged woman behind a desk. "May I have your name and business please?"

"No, I'm not sure I want to do that. I expected President Wiggen direct. The way things have been going I have no idea if you are her secretary or her jailer."

"I can assure you she is very much in control of her office. She is however in a meeting that is sufficiently important she is taking no direct calls. If you'd like to hold she will take the calls after in the order she wishes. I'd say in another twenty minutes at least. If you wish to remain anonymous be aware she may give priority to identified callers. She will however be made aware the call is from an off planet number."

"That seems reasonable," April had to admit. "Please inform her April Lewis of Home called about a personal matter and I'll await her call back. It is not an immediately life or death issue."

"Thank you Miss Lewis. Your call is in the queue," she promised and logged off.

"I'm going to read some of my stuff from my brother. You want some tea? I'll make a pot."

"Sure, I'm still catching up on the Assembly videos. I'll take some tea."

It wasn't twenty minutes, but over an hour went by before April's com chimed and she transferred it to the big screen at the com desk. President Wiggen shocked April. She had bags under her eyes and was slumped like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Miss Lewis, I was advised you were on the manifest for the Home supply shuttle. Your bodyguard was listed too. Did he really accompany you to Home? Or was that a ruse to lift somebody else?"

"Oh no, that was Master Sergeant Gunny Mack Tindal. He's really the reason I'm calling. He got caught up in the coup attempt on you. He tried calling Captain Yoder who assigned him to me and got a Captain Maddow who claimed to have no records of his duty assignment at all. He wanted to arrest him, so Gunny took the advice of the State Department lady and grabbed his cash money and disappeared with me."

"Ah, yes, I'm familiar with more of the details where they touched my personal protection. Captain Maddow actually was innocent of any conspiracy. He was however put in as a placeholder to get Captain Yoder out of the way. He sat in the stockade for a few days as did some others, but we sorted it all out and none of them will suffer for it."

"Well, Gunny wasn't so sure he wouldn't get sorted out into a shallow grave somewhere. He might lose his house if his automatic payments aren't made for utilities and taxes. He'd really just like to take the retirement he has the service to qualify for and be done with it."

Wiggen's face already tired went to unhappy. "I'm sorry he didn't have confidence we'd straighten things out. We weren't going to let them start executing our people. Maybe he thought the coup would succeed," she speculated.

"We didn't actually know there was a coup until we got up here," April assured her. "We simply were cut off and couldn't contact anyone. Carol Jordan was cut off too and suggested he go to ground like she was. Then we had a missile attack on Mr. Santo's home and an unknown force, maybe Chinese, landing aircars in their woods. We ran for it."

"Yes, you took care of the Chinese sub in your usual subtle manner," she accused. "The train of reentry vehicles blazing across the Hawaiian sky was on the island news that night. That was not Carol's place to tell anybody outside State what to do," she said angry.

"Well, if you know some subtle way to stop one launching missiles at you, let me know. At least I didn't use anything explosive on it, just some plain old Rods from God," April said.

"And the aircars?" Wiggen demanded.

"What about them? I didn't even shoot at them. When I shot the missile down it just happened to crash on them."

Even Wiggen couldn't help smiling at that. "From anyone else I wouldn't believe that," she assured her. "It's just…" she seemed at a loss for words.

"My one friend on Home said that by the most amazing coincidence there seems to be a history of expensive damage, death and destruction strewn closely behind me. I never meant that to happen."

"Very well put. I tell you what I'll do. I'll order the Navy to retire the Master Sergeant with a clean record and all his proper retirement. I owe him that much for his service. The arrest warrants against him and others that night are already gone. As to his house and other personal affairs, that is yours to straighten out. Smart politicians don't get involved in financial things down at that level, it always looks dirty to someone and I didn't make him yank his money and run. I'm still not sure I shouldn't be a bit miffed about that. I suspect the way this conversation is going he is in no big rush to come back?"

"I don't think so. I'm hoping to hire him at least temporarily," she said, shading the truth.

"Why am I not surprised?" Wiggen asked.

"I also have to thank you for your previous invitation to the state dinner, but I think it would be best for both of us if I stay home now that I'm back up here."

"Oh God yes," Wiggen agreed. "I have a few guests who'd probably crawl over the table to attack you with their silverware. Not that it wouldn't be entertaining. Now, if there is nothing else, I have some other calls to return and a nation to run," she said drolly.

"That's all. Thank you for straightening it out," April said heartfelt.

Wiggen disconnected with a nod.

"Well, you weren't the last call to get returned," Gunny noted, somewhat impressed.

"And she didn't ask anything about the Santos. I don't like Carol, but maybe I should not have mentioned her to Wiggen."

"Carol is a big girl. She can see to herself. I got the impression most people who know him would be happy to ignore Santos and hope he returns the favor."

"He's a sweet old guy," April said. "I can't imagine why anybody can't get along with him."

Gunny remembered reading Santos' folder. Santos the congenial host was a sweet old guy. Santos the master spy was scary. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he should say, it was classified, after all.

Chapter 5

April started researching what was available to study economics as she'd promised Jeff. She'd find a formal class, but needed to know enough to even pick one. Jeff would expect her to do much more than a superficial look at the subject and if she was going to be a bank owner she really should have a grasp of the matter. She hadn't been thinking of all that when she first had the idea they should grab rights to have a bank while the window of opportunity was open on Home. It was turning into a lot more time-consuming work she hadn't planned.

The array of books available was overwhelming. April usually didn't approve of popularized guides, but saw a book entitled "Economic Jargon and Surviving Economics 101" That got bought along with what were said to be classics, "The Wealth of Nations" and "The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money". Checking a few pages at random she had to admit they looked a little dry. "The Failure of the New Economics" was apparently devoted to refuting the Keynesian book. She could probably find a third tedious big fat book refuting this second one if she looked a little bit. She had to set limits.

Eddie called her up and wanted to talk. He assured her it was too long and complicated to cover over dinner. She set aside tomorrow afternoon with some trepidation. He didn't sound upset with her, but she still had doubts about her trip and whether it was as successful as others seemed to think.

Gunny was still watching recordings of Home Assemblies. April set a timer and allowed an hour to try to absorb economic jargon and then she'd join her Japanese class. She hadn't been in the active class so long they'd probably forgotten who she was.

When the timer went off she was ready to move on. She had a hundred new words spinning in her head. Words she was used to using having new meanings were more difficult than entirely new ones. The language of economics seemed a bit archaic.

April knew Gunny would take tea, so she went ahead and made it to move around after sitting so long. They didn't have active furniture that moved around under you like some offices used. It might be more productive, but April agreed with her Dad that you need a mental break too.

Gunny got up and stretched and went off, probably to use the restroom. April took a slight break to look at the stocks. Nothing big was happening or the screen would have alerted her by changing line colors. But she examined trends and then looked at the news.

She had almost two hundred key words and phrases for her bots to gather. That was going to go up when she added economic terms. There were a number of stories about Home, commercial matters mostly. Contracts let and a couple stories about the new ring being built. Jeff's name came up a few times and the Rock was mentioned.

She'd skimmed over half when she came to a story gathered by the key word Santos, the name of the Earth family with who she'd been staying.

América del Sur Noticias Netos: Buenos Aires, (auto translated) – Search and rescue services report no sign of the American pleasure vessel Tobiuo registered to Tetsuo Santos. An inflatable  dinghy with the ship's name and various articles of clothing and food containers washed up on Horn Island shore north of the Drake passage. Chilean air assets aided in the search out of Puerto Williams. The vessel is presumed lost in the dangerous seas close to the Antarctic Circle.

"Gunny, look at this!" He got up and came over. She was too rattled to send it to his screen. She thought while he read it. When he finished and looked at her he was surprised she wasn't upset anymore.

"It's bullshit," she said with absolute conviction.

"You think so?" he asked, not even reproving her for the coarse language as he had before.

"Mama-san told me the Tobiuo was much stronger than boats made just thirty years ago. She said it could be pushed under by a rogue wave that would crush and demast those sort of boats and it would just bob back up. No way they got broke up and sank in the easiest season to make the passage. Papa-san wasn't the sort to take her into something he didn't have the skill to do."

Gunny pursed his lips and considered it. "If this were true you'd have heard from Adzusa by now. Until we hear something from her I don't believe it either. I bet he just decided to disappear himself lock stock and barrel. I imagine some of the intelligence community are skeptical too."

"I'm not going to call the lieutenants in Maine. In some form Papa-san will make his pickup or he'd have arranged to let me know."

"You going to say anything to Adzusa?"

"No. No condolences will tell her I don't believe it. Saying anything else is a security risk. If it was true she'll contact us personally with details."

"I agree," he said, nodding. "I bet this indicates he decided to leave Earth. He's abandoning his contacts and networks if he's going to fake his own death."

"Wouldn't they continue to have value?"

"Their value declines quickly with time," Gunny explained. "Their value hinges on people never being entirely sure he is fully retired. If he's still seen as a potential player he has leverage. If he left Earth and took up permanent residence off planet I think that would end most of his influence anyway. Home just isn't big enough or old enough to have an influence in the intelligence world. Maybe someday," he allowed.

April thought about it. "I'm going to just keep my mouth shut. I've got to log on my Japanese class or miss it again. Want to go get some supper after that?"

"Yes, but let me know when it's near. I want to shower and change first."

* * *

"Get ready if you still want to go," April said much later. "We're about done here and the instructor is giving us his usual little summation and pep talk."

Gunny grunted a response and disappeared to his room.

Her time with the Santos had polished her Japanese. The household help, not her hosts, had taken the time to couch her by explaining the common daily speech about laundry and meals and shopping trips. They had even patiently repeated phrases in both English and Japanese when she was completely out of her depth.

The instructor and even a few fellow students had expected her to be rusty after an absence, but instead she had improved her accent and vocabulary. Quite a bit of it had to do with fishing and sailboat handling, but those terms can be used nicely to build rich analogy and metaphor.

"Assuming my paperwork comes through clean and complete, I believe I'll set things in motion to assume Home citizenship and pay the severance taxes to end my North American citizenship," Gunny said.

"How much do they ding you to leave now? Most folks who come up here plan it ahead and just abscond."

"It will run about three hundred thousand over my regular taxes by the time I am done. I figure about a third of what I'll get for my house if that isn't screwed up. I put enough in my account to cover my utilities and the summer taxes when they come due. We'll see if they get applied or if somebody snatches them. At least the account accepted the deposit."

"If they don't, want me to drop a rod on it so they can't make anything from stealing it?"

"Let me see what else I can do before you bombard North America for me," Gunny asked. "I suspect that might work against me being able to freely visit the continent too. That was one of my goals in leaving quietly and politely."

"Yeah, I'm not sure when I'll feel free to visit Hawaii again."

"You are young. Smart to keep the option open if you can. You may really want to go down fifty years from now.

"Or I might not even be in the system in fifty years."

Gunny looked at her funny. "What system?"

"Why, the Solar System," she said, like it was obvious.

"You feel confident that is a possibility?"

"Jeff is working on it."

"Okay."

The cafeteria was past peak for supper, starting to empty out. April got fish and chips and a side salad with chilled shrimp and a lemonade. Gunny got weinersnitzle with potato pancakes and sauerkraut with apples.

April went to the far wall away from the coffee where everybody congregated. She greeted several people passing through, but nobody stopped her. She sat looking back as always because she enjoyed the people watching.

Margaret from Security was sitting against the other wall right by the entry. Usually nobody sat there unless it was full because it was as far from the line and coffee as you could get. But she had a pad open and some hard copy on the table like she was working. Which she confirmed even before April unloaded her tray. A message appeared in her spex that she was working and couldn't visit, so April just replied 'OK' in text with a flick and blink of her eyeballs since she had the tray in both hands.

There was Mr. Muños, as usual the center of a deep discussion and Ed Page who was a multi-tasker with an actual computer open, not just a pad. He'd eat breakfast and watch the news and manage his stocks while listening to the Muños group and not miss any of it. There was a new guy by the coffee she didn't know, but he had eyes only for the girl with him.

Ben Patsitsas the author came in with his usual scarf around his neck. On his heels was a new guy, Oriental, but big. He looked more like he belonged in the other cafeteria with the fit, young vacuum rats and beam dogs.

She had her stuff all off the tray, so Gunny pulled it over and set his tray inside hers and sat down beside her, eating off the tray. He hadn't done that last night.

It finally slowed down enough there was nobody in the food line waiting and Ruby came out with a rag to tidy up the coffee area.

April stabbed a few pieces of salad and a shrimp on her fork when Gunny stood back up. What she didn't expect was his big hand reaching in past her arm to tip her over backwards chair and all. She wasn't even halfway to the floor before there was a >BOOMBOOMBOOM<.

Her ears were ringing and she looked up, laying on her back, to see Gunny drop the hammer on his new pistol and slide it back in his holster before he reached a hand down to help her up. She had to switch her fork to the other hand to accept his help. Once she was up he reached back and sat her chair upright and took off for the commotion over by the coffee machines without a word of explanation.

April followed him wondering what was going on.

The Oriental fellow who came in last was sprawled on the floor. He was a gory mess in the middle of his chest and weirdly his hair and the shoulder of his shirt were all wet but steaming. There was the handle of a kitchen knife sticking out of his lower back. Just then Jon rushed in with McAlpine. When he saw the body he breathed a visible deep sigh of relief and holstered his weapon. He pulled a chair up at the next table and made a call on his pad while Margaret hovered over him and Gunny leaned in and said a few quiet words. Then Gunny quietly spoke to Ruby and she laughed and gave him a play poke.

Gunny came back to her and put a big hand on her shoulder. "Let's go sit back where we were and Jon will come tell you what's happening when he gets it sorted out."

"I can't eat now," April protested.

"Neither can I," Gunny agreed. "Maybe after the adrenaline high wears off a bit. I need to just sit a minute. I'm kind of shaky."

"Oh, Okay." April was more willing to accommodate his need to sit than her own. She watched Jon finish talking to Margaret. The medical crew showed up and after a brief discussion with Jon and bagged up the dead guy. Jon conducted brief separate interviews with Ruby and Mr. Page and somebody showed up from maintenance and was cleaning the floor and all the tables and chairs on that side of the room.

"What did you say to Ruby?" April asked. She thought it bizarre she'd laughed.

"I told her she scared the crap outta me running up directly behind my target like that."

"She thought that was funny?"

"She said the Chinese fellow was so wide I couldn't have missed him with a brick."

Most of the crowd there left and the few who stayed moved over where Margaret had been sitting. The cleaning guy sprayed and wiped Mr. Page's computer and helped him move it. Ruby came out and gathered all the trays and plates wearing gloves and took them to the back.

The next shift cook came in and after a brief word and a hug Ruby headed out the door, obviously done for the day. The new cook took both carafes of coffee away and cycled the pot.

When Jon was through with everyone else he took Gunny over two tables away and had a conversation in low tones. She caught a couple words, but her ears were still ringing a little.

Finally Jon came to her last and Gunny took a seat on the other side of her.

"Take this," Jon said putting a capsule by her glass. "It will keep you from having any permanent hearing damage from the gunfire. Your ears are probably ringing, aren't they?"

"Yeah, a little." Gunny had just swallowed one too and she chugged hers with some of the lemonade. It was good and she took a couple more swallows of it before putting it down. She didn't tell him she'd taken them before down on Earth.

"Tell me what happened since you walked in the door of the cafeteria today," Jon asked.

April related everything she could remember. Even who she observed was here and the way Gunny ate off his tray instead of removing everything to the table. Then how she'd been shoved back and she'd had to curl forward to avoid banging her head and what she'd observed when she followed Gunny to the other side of the room.

Jon just nodded a few times and stayed attentive, letting her go at her own pace.

"The fellow who was killed waited until you looked down at your food and then stood, drawing a pistol as he stood. He was looking right at you and it's pretty obvious he'd been warned how fast you are and was waiting to move on you until you had your attention elsewhere. He really should have been patient and waited for both you and Gunny to be looking down. Not that it would have saved him, but I would have thought it was obvious Gunny is a guard. He discounted him entirely too much."

"Why wouldn't that have saved him?" April asked.

"Watch the security video," Jon invited and sat his pad open to her and played the captured scene in slow motion.

The man sat his tray down and seated himself, but he didn't scoot his chair in. He looked to the right where Mr. Page was looking at his computer screen. There was an empty chair between them and he was the closest of the group with Mr. Muños. He glanced to the left but there was nobody close, just Margaret clear across four rows of tables against the far wall.

Page's eyes flicked to the left when the man looked away, but his fingers never hesitated, continuing to click, click, click away at the entry he was making.

Ruby was walking slowly, sliding a rag along the edge of the counter, but she was watching the new guy from behind and frowning.

When the man started to stand back up he already had his hand on his gun on his left side, worn cross-draw. He stood too abruptly, telegraphing something wasn't normal. Ruby shoved off the counter hard with her right hand. The rag went flying and revealed she had a twenty centimeter chef's knife clutched in her hand under the rag. It was three long steps to the man.

Mr. Page threw the mug of coffee in his left hand with no discernible hesitation at all. He couldn't have seen the gun yet, just the motion that shouted it was being drawn.

The man was still hunched over slightly, gun just a little higher than the table edge when Gunny's first round hit him right in the breast bone. The coffee mug hit the side of his face just about when the second round hit him a couple centimeters from the first.

By the time the coffee was a explosion of drops splashing off his face there was a violet aura of electric discharges arching through them and all around the man's head. Margaret had discharged her Air-Taser dead on the man's head and it looked like she had the power level set lethally high.

The man spasmed from the Taser, gun hand jerking up past the point he'd have thrust it forward, hand opening in a claw. The gun would continue climbing and sailed over the group talking to Muños to bounce off the next table onto the floor.

His back arched from the electrical jolt, helped by the impact of a third slug from Gunny. He was bent the other way now, backward. Ruby slammed into him from behind with her left shoulder, not taking time to slow down. Her right hand slammed the blade into his back to the hilt right where a kidney would be.

Ed Page was pushing himself up off the table, obviously intending to offer further violence than the coffee mug. But by the time Ed was fully vertical the man was going down the other way, rolling off the edge of the table from Ruby impacting him from behind. Ruby yanked sideways on the knife handle, twisting it in the fellow and it was wrenched out of her hand as he went down crooked, falling on his side.

Page stopped his motion, needing a step to stop his forward momentum and it was all over except for a vicious kick Ruby gave the fellow after he sprawled on the floor.

"Poor son of a bitch had no idea what hit him," Jon explained unnecessarily.

"Who would want to hurt me bad enough to send somebody all the way up here?" April asked, shocked.

"Well, the remnants of the Patriot Party, any of the genetic purity nuts, maybe even rogue elements of the USNA government or military all come to mind," Jon theorized, "but I'm guessing just from his appearance that it is the Chinese who are still peeved with you, this time."

"Do you think Jeff or Heather might be targeted?" she suddenly worried.

"I called then and cautioned them on the way over here," Jon assured her.

April looked at Gunny, thinking how she'd told her mother she didn't really need him here. She dug in her pocket and got the platinum coin she'd got from Jeff. "Performance bonus," she told him and flipped the bright thing to him. He snatched it out of the air, looking pleased.

Chapter 6

Jeff called April and asked to came over with Heather a couple hours after the shooting. It was really unusual to see Jeff angry. April remembered what Gunny had said about wanting to see if he really shot laser beams out of his eyes. Except this look would freeze anything solid rather than vaporize it. Jeff, angry, spoke softly and was scary cold.

"Jon said the man who tried to shoot you had tattoos that are common to Chinese special forces. They just don't seem capable of leaving us alone. You know I've been diverting some income to buy rods. They are cheap and very hard to stop. However they have to be dead on a target to do any damage since they are just kinetic weapons."

Bad enough to knock out a nuke sub underwater, Gunny thought but didn't say anything.

"I have five other special weapons stealthed and in orbit. They use a new tech based on some of my mom's work. I wanted to sneak one off and test it before releasing them to you and Heather, but this decided me to give you the orbital elements and go codes. If you call them up in your spex or on a screen you can see a cone of possible maneuver. Or if you designate a point on the Earth's surface it will tell you when the next one can reach it." Open your pad and I'll transfer the full data set to you."

"Why couldn't you test these like you wanted?" April asked.

"I needed two vehicles. One to carry a sample around the other side of the sun and one to record the test and return. It's expensive and would take months. It's hard to cover up buying and sending them off. And more importantly right now it would take too long and waste one of them when it will be months before I can get the materials to make more. I'm very confident they'll work, I'm just not sure what the yield will be."

"You must have a guess though,"

"I'm pretty sure it will yield fifty megatons. If it fused all the hydrogen and lithium it would yield near a hundred megatons. My mum thinks we may get secondary reactions fusing heavier elements.  You get declining energy boosts from secondary fusion reactions all the way to iron after all. I'd be really, really surprised if, as it is presently configured, it went over two-hundred megatons. That may sound like a big range, but it's all within an order of magnitude," he pointed out.

"How do you intend to use these?" April asked, worried.

"I'd reserve them for if Home itself is directly attacked, or if one of we three are assassinated. If you find some circumstances that warrant using them, you have the codes now. I wouldn't expect you or Heather to use them lightly," he assured them.

"If my assassin had succeeded?" she wondered.

"Beijing and the entire communist party hierarchy there would be a huge smoking crater, decapitating China as the strategists say." He looked like he wanted to say more, so she kept quiet. Gunny looked scared to death.

"If you drop one on Beijing and that just hardens their resolve, the other four dropped off their coast should remove half their population and a third of their industry. It would remove them as a world power for the next several decades. If that doesn't break them talk to my Mum. She'll finish it for you. I don't know how, but she said she can and I believe her. Although if it has gotten to that point I'm guessing she won't need requests to act on her own. She has no love of China after how they have treated her."

"Does China have any idea its existence is so precarious?" April asked.

"No and I doubt you could convince them. They are such arrogant liars they can't imagine anybody else isn't like them. April, they still think they own my Mother. They are just frustrated they can't reclaim their slave and the value of her education. They are very bad people," he said with frightening sincerely.

"Not so much different than North America," Gunny growled. "I'm paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to basically buy my freedom from them," he pointed out.

"Thank you for listening," Jeff told them. "I know it's late and you have to still be upset about the shooting, but I just felt like if I waited until morning to tell you and pass the codes I was taking a chance. I feel like we are all at risk now, every hour and I wanted these codes in your and Heather's hands."

"Not my business, but I'm curious since you are letting me hear this, it isn't something the militia has access to?" Gunny asked.

"No this is our private system. I don't think ill of the militia, but I'm hesitant to give that many people access to a system that can obliterate a few hundred square miles with one strike. There are a lot of armed merchant ships now, so no telling who has private weapon systems. I do doubt if anybody has weapons this large," he allowed.

"But you don't know," Gunny suggested.

"No, no way to really know because there are no laws or limits to give us authority to even ask," Jeff agreed. "Atomic weapons are 1940s technology after all," he reminded them. "Getting the materials is the only real barrier. Laws have always been secondary to the physical difficulties of obtaining the plutonium or uranium. These weapons don't use either. If I found a way around that somebody else may have also," he said modestly.

"Well, we know Loonies can make at least tactical nuke size weapons. I wouldn't be surprised if they could manage strategic sized," April guessed.

"If they think on it," Jeff suggested, "they may see you could use the devices they already have in an implosion geometry to compress fusibles. It would require detonator circuitry with very accurate timing, but only slightly better than a plutonium fission bomb."

"If you see a way to do it that easily then the only safe way is to figure everybody has them," Gunny decided. "I'll keep this to myself," he volunteered, though they hadn't asked.

* * *

April didn't sleep well. She thought she was over the shock of the assassination attempt in the cafeteria as soon as her heart rate was back to normal. Instead it roused memories of her gun battle on Earth when Preston Harrison had tried to arrest her. Jeff's announcement and the burden of the codes probably didn't help either. A mish-mash of irrational confused images woke her up and she had to get up and have a hot chocolate and calm herself before she could go back to bed and eventually sleep.

In the morning Gunny was not up and she went ahead and went back to the cafeteria for breakfast without him. Ruby wasn't there and she wanted to thank Ruby for protecting her face to face, not on com. She was surprised when Gunny arrived at the cafeteria door at a jog. He slowed down and walked in normally, but she wasn't fooled. She'd heard him running. He'd been really moving only three or four paces outside the door.

He scanned the tables first and only then, after she was located and the room appraised did he get a tray and go through the line.

"Aren't you afraid to be here alone after yesterday?" he asked when he joined her.

"Not especially. If they can throw an assassin a day at me I won't hold out very long anyway. It costs a lot to send one up here. Surely we have until at least the next shuttle before we have to worry about another."

"Perhaps. I am a professional paranoid. I'd don't want to make any assumptions if an error means you are dead. I read last night that they have a solution to long term Bucky Ball toxicity and new life extension treatments might take us out to about three hundred years. It would be a shame to see that cut off for you at sixteen." Gunny suggested.

"Look at the curve for life extension," April said cutting a climbing graph in the air with her hand. "If we'll have three hundred now the curve is really turning up sharply," she said running her hand almost straight up. "I can't imagine another thousand and more won't be added on during that new period. Pretty soon homicide and suicide will be the only serious sources of morbidity. Beside the people who die young from stupidity before they have a chance to get any sense. Males especially," she said trying to tweak him a bit. He didn't bite. He agreed actually.

"I don't think you'll ever completely get rid of people who thrill seek like sky divers and folks who race cars. But I bet most will shun risk taking. Maybe even pay for delivery of groceries and stuff in order to hole up at home to avoid the risk of travel and exposure to disease."

"True," April agreed, "but trauma medicine is getting better and better too. You may have to really splatter yourself beyond scraping up or burn yourself up to be permanently dead."

"And yet they still can't freeze a large mammal and have it thaw completely normal and live a full life after. If your buddy Jeff really does make a starship, somebody better perfect that or it will be a mighty long boring trip to those stars if you need spend it awake."

"That's a problem. I assume there is probably somebody working on it who is a wizard at the biological sciences, just like Jeff is working at nano." April looked up sharply. "In fact I know just the person to commission," she said suddenly happy.

Gunny had jerked and scanned the room quickly when she looked up so abruptly. April examined his breakfast and he hadn't eaten much at all.

"Gunny, do you need a couple days off? I'm afraid yesterday imprinted you and you can't relax. Maybe there is some Post Traumatic Stress you need to deal with? There's medicine that eases that isn't there?"

"You should be the one stressed. Nobody was shooting at me."

"I am a little. I had weird, mixed up dreams last night and got up in the middle of the night and walked around and made myself some hot chocolate. I'll go by the clinic after breakfast and talk to the doc on duty about it."

"I'll listen to whatever he tells you, but I'm not going to take anything that slows me down or will numb my valid judgment."

"Okay, but eat please. You can't stay fast and alert without fuel either," she pointed out.

Gunny considered his omelet. "I've let this get cold. I'll get it heated and some fresh hot cakes. Maybe you are right. We'll both talk to the doc."

When he came back Margaret was with him.

"Thank you so much for your protection last night," April said. She went around the table and hugged her after she put her tray down. Margaret hugged her back and didn't hurry to end it.

"That's why I was here," Margaret explained. "Alvin tagged that guy when he got off the shuttle as bad news and we had a watch on him every time he moved. Jon had me pre-positioned in the cafeteria as soon as he left his room and headed this way."

"You knew he was after April?" Gunny asked, frowning.

"No, we just figured he was up to no good. He could have been after somebody else, or been a saboteur. He was just too young and in too good a shape to be a pharmaceuticals salesman. If we knew he was targeting April, or anybody else, we'd have never let it progress so far."

"Good, I wouldn't approve of using her for bait," he said bluntly.

"I will never do that. Not only do I value her personally, after last night I'd never do anything to piss you off. I Tased him, but it was just following through what I'd started. By the him I hit him he was a dead man standing. You had two rounds in him before I fired. I was primed to draw and watching him. You had to react to his actions from a blank slate."

"You'd have gotten him before he fired though," Gunny ceded, "and Ruby…That woman is scary. She pushed off the counter instead of just using traction to go at him. I'm not sure she wouldn't have had her knife in him before he had that pistol extended and aimed."

"Even if he got it extended, it's tough to aim and fire effectively with a face full of scalding hot coffee," Margaret pointed out.

"Ed Page works out with our Tai Chi group most Wednesdays," April told them. "We don't just do the slow. We even do sword. He wasn't getting up to ask the guy for the next dance."

Margaret, had to yank her napkin up and catch her explosive laugh. She folded it over and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Sorry, your droll humor catches me now and then. I just had this mental image of Ed posed holding his hands the way guys do to ask for a dance. By the way, Jon has the guy's pistol and says it's rightfully yours as a trophy of combat," she told Gunny.

"Wow, the cops Earthside would never do that. I think you should give it to Ruby. She was the one who the nerve to attack a man armed with a gun with a kitchen knife."

"Ruby probably has better," April told him. "I know she and Easy own a Singh laser. Easy is the sort, well, when we flew together he brought his own Russian anti-armor missiles along. He had those and was holding them before the war last year. So who knows what he owns now?"

"Fine, then give it to Ed. He was just as brave as Ruby and maybe he needs an upgrade from a coffee mug."

"I'll tell him. Jon instructed medical to not do an autopsy on the guy. He just had them doing a toxicology work up, because Ruby said one of the reasons she was so suspicious of him was he had dilated pupils. They may have had him on some kind of drug."

"That would be stupid. It would ruin your sight picture. April wants me to see the clinic about some medication for PTS. I have concerns it would mess up my ability exactly like that."

"I'm on a low dose of two drugs that complement each other. I have been over a year, since the war. I haven't felt any need to adjust them for yesterday."

"Well whatever you're taking sure didn't seem to slow you down. I find that encouraging," Gunny said.

"Are you modified like April?" Margaret asked. "You just got here so you couldn't be a customer of Jelly, could you?"

"Jelly?"

"Nickname for our local gene-mod doc from his college days. He's okay and I'd say he's just about as fast as you or April. I can't afford it yet."

"Ruby wondered the same thing, but no, I am as I was born. I'm just naturally quick."

"If you go to the clinic talk to Dr. Lee. He's the one who helped me. Later guys." She was done with her light breakfast and hurried out.

"So, she fought in the war?" Gunny asked, fishing.

"She wiped out a squad of a dozen Space Seals by herself and folded the Heavy Space Shuttle Cincinnati over double, with its nose against its belly. In all fairness she did write on the lock not to enter or they'd be met with lethal force. The idiots came in anyway."

"You have some scary friends."

April decided that was some genuine humility. "Come on let's see if this Lee is in."

Doctor Lee was in and busy. They waited while he treated a beam dog who got pinched by a slow moving but massive truss. He left limping a bit with a three day rest order. He wasn't happy to lose suit hours even though he got base pay and even less happy that he was cut off from drinking while he used the pain medication.

It appeared Dr. Lee and one nurse practitioner were the entire duty crew.

"What do you do if you get a bunch of casualties all at once?" Gunny wondered.

"I have an off shift doctor I can wake up. There are a number of people trained in Emergency Medicine I can call on and residents who have said they would respond in an extreme emergency trained as nurses or military medics. It's possible to overwhelm local medical facilities anywhere," he asserted.

"That sounded more critical than I intended it to. It was a serious question. I am looking at living here so it concerned me."

"You have the same level of medical care here you'd expect in a small town in the USNA or Europe. If you need very specialized surgery you have to go down to a large metro area just like if you lived in a very small town in Idaho. There are places in large cities that have better trauma centers. But really good trauma centers are the result of areas where violence is common. Living close enough to one to be taken there is often riskier than living further away and having less chance of needing it."

"Then your crime level is very low here?" Gunny asked.

"I do not believe we have treated anyone in the last year injured as a result of crime."

"How about that guy in your cooler with a knife stuck in his back and the three rounds I put in his chest?"

"I don't count war and political assassination as crime, but believe me, he was well past any possible treatment when we got him here. That's a pattern I am seeing. Such violence tends to produce dead bodies and little treatable injury. Even when we had fighting on station back in the war there were only six wounded I am aware of needing treatment."

"Ask Jon if you want," April suggested. "I don't know if he keeps records of minor problems, like if somebody is drunk and disorderly and he escorts them home. He has not presented what you'd consider a felony to the Home Assembly since the war. He has the authority from the company to expel troublemakers who are just working here on temporary contracts."

"Interesting. I'm used to more crime even inside the sheltered environment of a base."

"We are a small community. A lot of crime like theft is harder to do here than down in an Earth town. You can't take your loot and drive to a town a little bit away to sell it," Lee said.

"I've seen you don't have big apartments full of status symbols. And some things, like a video screen, everybody seems to have one of. There aren't any 'have nots' to steal out of envy."

"How is the clinic funded?" Gunny wondered, looking around at an abundance of equipment. "Can three thousand people generate enough income to make it viable?"

"Mitsubishi carries most of the expense because they need it for the construction workers. The voting citizens agreed to kick in eight hundred dollars each as a base fund."

"A month?" Gunny interrupted.

"No, annually. That all covers cubic, power and some of our upkeep on equipment. We are charging three-hundred-forty dollars an hour for myself and the other doctor. And we are the only pharmacy for now so we make a little on drugs."

"I assume my USNA medical card is no good here?"

"No, just as you could not use on Earth in a foreign country we would not be reimbursed if we offered treatment on it. However we have a policy of no tiered prices. Everybody pays the same and we will try to quote as accurately as possible what elective services will cost. Did you want an estimate on some service?" He looked funny at April. "Do you need privacy?" he added.

"No, April is my employer at the moment. She actually urged me to come along because she intended to see you for the same reason. We are concerned we may be suffering from a degree of PTS. We, well, we've had a lot of people shooting at us lately. It's not paranoia because they really are," he emphasized.

"I'm neither a psychiatrist nor a psychologist, but there are characteristic patterns of brain activity for which we can look with a standard test. If they are evident to a lesser degree, there are several drugs that can offer some relief. If there is a really severe problem then there are stronger drugs and behavior therapy for which I'd refer you, but I'd say offhand that is not present or I'd see an overt presentation of inappropriate behavior."

"Such as?"

"Well, you were willing to sit sideways to the door and look away from it. That is not the behavior of a severe case. I'd say we need about two hours of diagnostic time, which includes taking a general medical history and some base line testing, a brain scan and reading it. Say four to five hundred dollars and if you need a prescription it will probably run twelve to fifteen dollars a day."

"Sounds cheap. Let's do it. Can you do it right now or do I need to come back?"

"Right now. We might get interrupted if I need to treat someone, but that's not likely. Here, let me give you a questionnaire on your pad." He held his out to transfer a file. "I have April's data. If you'd go in the first room there and fill it out I should be done with April when you come out."

April was done and even had a couple bottles of pills on the counter beside her when Gunny came out. Dr. Lee was wiping out a clamshell helmet with a sani-wipe. "This is a military field model of MRI scanner. We use a lot of military and EM model equipment because it is more compact. We have full body scan too, but this is optimized for the brain and has specialized software. If you'd sit here we'll project some images and sounds and get a baseline response."

Gunny sat tense for awhile. The helmet played tones and showed various scenes and then music. Dr. Lee walked around behind him and picked up a clipboard from the counter.

"Ah that's Virginia," Gunny noted after a scene. "Heh, you have some oldies too," he commented about the music.

Dr. Lee didn't reply. He watched the readout on the helmet and when it reached a certain point he slammed the clipboard on the counter with a crack like a pistol shot.

Gunny levitated straight up, grabbing the chair arms like he might float off. He gasped and started to reach up for the helmet and then controlled himself. "Was that really necessary Doc?" He was very unhappy.

"I'm supposed to use a starter pistol, but we had reports that some patients threw off the helmet and the sight of even a starter pistol triggered unfortunate responses. It really was necessary to generate a startle response.  And yes - you have a spike response I'd recommend mitigating with medication."

"Did you do that to April too?"

"I'd rather not discuss details of April with you. In any case she is much younger. The growing brain is different and has different concerns. I can offer you appropriate medication that will make you process threats much better. You will be able to do your job just as well and not wear yourself out expending attention at unsustainable levels. You should sleep better too. And yes, if you compare medications with April you will see that while you share one, the others two are different."

"It won't slow me down?"

"It absolutely will not reduce your reaction time."

Gunny sighed. "Okay. Then I'll try it."

"I'll write you a prescription for three weeks. If you feel it is making you ill in any way, come see us right away. If you have any unexplained rash or difficulty breathing or anything serious like that, please don't hesitate to request emergency transportation."

"Is that likely?"

"No, some doctors don't like to admit there might be any problem, but hey, some people can't tolerate aspirin. You never know who will have an allergy. If you are happy with how you feel get a refill when the three weeks are up. If you want another scan to try to quantify how it is working I'd be happy to do that."

"How many refills do I get?"

"We don't work it like that here. You're an adult. If you need drugs we'll sell them to you. If you want our advice, a prescription is a recommendation not a straightjacket. You want to try something else based on what you read or sell or give these to somebody else, well, it's your property not mine. You have the freedom on Home to be very smart or very stupid. Up to you."

"April mentioned even marijuana is legal."

"Yes, but the plant varies considerably in potency and it is terribly inconvenient to smoke in our environment. If you want it for an actual medical condition and not just recreational use I'd suggest looking into synthetic cannabinoids. There are different ones tailored for specific uses. Many of them will treat medical problems at a dosage that doesn't induce euphoria."

"This is going to be an adjustment for me coming from North America."

"I'm sure it is," Dr. Lee agreed. "But we haven't had that long to adjust ourselves," He punched in an order and got two small bottles from an automated pharmacy panel, he still opened them and checked them critically before handing them to Gunny. "I'll bill you against your com code number. Most of Home runs a cash or 30 day business settlement. If you think of any questions here is our com-" he offered it and let Gunny take the address. "They won't bother me off shift unless it is an emergency, but they have your data here."

"You have to have a life too, Doc. Thank you for the help." He gathered his medicine and  followed April, standing at the door already.

"That was reasonable, but I suppose I should see about some kind of insurance for really catastrophic medical expenses."

"I'm not sure who sells it," April admitted. "You'll have to research it."

Gunny looked at her alarmed. "You have enough strangers shooting at you to consider it for yourself," he suggested.

"Maybe. You can tell me what you find out. You heard what Dr. Lee said. You tend to be dead more often than just wounded, in his experience."

"I wish you wouldn't say that like it's a positive thing."

April stood in the corridor indecisive.

"Forget where you parked?" Gunny joked.

"I'd have never believed that possible before I visited Earth," April admitted. "I'm not hungry yet, but by the time we go home we'll need to turn around and head back for lunch. I'm not sure what to do."

"Do they have delivery or carry-out?"

"Actually, I inherited shares in a company that picks up food at the cafeteria and delivers it to your door for a small fee. But we're so close, we can get stuff in a thermal pack to take back."

"Let's do it then. I haven't seen that yet."

"Okay," she said, turning back the way they came. "I have Eddie coming to talk business this afternoon. I didn't want to worry about rushing back to meet him."

Chapter 7

"There used to be a place in town, a deli," Gunny said cleaning up their lunch, "and there were several parks and a beach nearby so they offered a pre-packed picnic basket for however many people you wanted. Sort of like this. My wife loved that place and we ate there fairly often. She liked everything so she just told the fellow to pack a picnic for two and surprise her. He was reluctant to do it the first time, but when she was happy with it he learned not to worry. We'd do it three or four times over the summer. She liked doing something different just for the experience. I loved that about her."

"I like hearing stories like that. I'm sorry you lost your wife, but I think it's wonderful you ever found anyone who suited you so. I'm starting to think it's not as common as the videos make it out to be."

"Perhaps not. The videos show a lot of nonsense. You seem to have a lot of sense for your age. Good thing, since you got caught up in the middle of things and needed a lot of maturity to cope with it. A lot of kids years older than you couldn't have handled it. All you kids up here seem three or four years older than what you are. My brother's kids in Virginia are a year and two years older than you and he wouldn't dare leave them alone at home or they'd trash the place, or start making illegal phone calls, or drinking mouthwash and end up in Emergency. It's not legal to leave them alone anyway."

April looked at him oddly. "I ran into a spy in the corridor and the contact seemed to make him break off his mission early. That was unexpected. But I could have stepped back and never got involved any deeper. I used it to ask Jon to ally with me and later Jeff and Heather too. After that Jeff and Heather and I all pushed our way into adult affairs because we were made aware we might lose our home on the hab and be forced to live on the slum ball. We actively made weapons in secret and got tech from others I still can't talk about."

"We didn't get caught up in it; we conspired to promote revolution every chance we got. When Jon had to rescue Jeff's dad from ISSII we got a huge break because ours was the only ship he could hire and we armed it with Singh technology knowing there might be trouble. But even Jon kept trying to drop me from the crew right up until launch. It was no accident."

"I thought from reading the record of the Assembly that they authorized armed ships."

"Yes, but that was after we got back, after we had engaged both the USNA and Chinese ships. They authorized it after the fact. We were pirates plain as could be. They could have decided to repudiate our actions. I took my personal weapon off my belt and let them bolt it on the ship's camera arm with three others. Things might have settled down and the whole thing fizzled out if the Earth governments hadn't kept acting stupid and irritating people."

"I'm starting to suspect what they allowed on the news in North America presented a false picture more than I even realized. Perhaps more so because I was military. If we looked for foreign news and bypassed the censors and they found out it could hurt your career, get you dropped in rank, lose a fellow his security clearance even."

April just looked at him, but held her tongue.

"God, that sounds so sheep-like," he admitted.

"Looks different now from orbit and not under their thumb I would imagine," April allowed. "Did you ever see the video of us engaging the Pretty as Jade and the James Kelly? It was licensed to the BBC."

"Nope. They kept that quiet. Oh, probably a lot of civilians worked around the net blocks and sent it around to each other. I saw quite a few of the kids dressing like you though. It drove the school and city authorities nuts. How did that come about anyway?"

April blushed deeply and made waving away motions. "There was a Japanese news report. I was dressed in a costume to try to get a rise out of my exercise group. It was taken out of context," she insisted.

"You have a copy of that? I'd like to see the stuff that was censored to North America and compare the timeline against what I'm reading in the Assembly record."

"I'll give you the whole dump my brother sold the BBC," she said, hoping that would keep him too busy to see the Genji Akira piece.

April sent the files to him. There was plenty there to keep him busy for days. Weeks if he cross checked them with the Assembly records. Did she have time to look into economics classes before Edward came? Probably not, she decided. Well, if she wanted to know about economics, why not ask Ed? He certainly had more money than anybody else she knew. Maybe he'd have some insight on what was worth her time.

Gunny sat the empty lunch pack by the door and then picked it back up, reconsidering. "I'm going to run this back. I've been sitting too much."

"I'll be here," April assured him.

He stood at the door though, thoughtful and not leaving. "The doctor mentioned his pay rate today," he reminded her.

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, I assume he works pretty long hours," Gunny guessed.

"I think most doctors do," April agreed.

"But any way you figure, you're paying me about the same scale as a doctor," he said.

"The doc doesn't have people shooting at him," April pointed out.

Gunny nodded to acknowledge the truth of that. "Even so, thanks," he said before heading out the door finally.

"You're welcome," she called after him.

* * *

The sound of voices jarred her out of her study after a bit. She wasn't used to someone coming in unannounced. Then she relaxed, hearing Gunny's low murmur and Eddie's sharper faster reply. Eddie always did kind of bark things out. He didn't talk over you, though.

They stayed in the kitchen area and when they finally emerged Gunny had the big tea pot and Eddie carried a tray with cups and honey.

"You just need a couple bench-top machines for customizing things and repairs," Ernie was saying. "There are plenty of prototyping and short run shops working here and on a couple other habitats to make parts for you. It's not like you'd need a hundred thousand pieces. The Swiss and the French already have a small hab that specializes in metallic glass alloys. With the materials coming off the Rock you shouldn't have to lift anything from Earth."

"What ya making?" April asked Eddie.

"The Sergeant was running the idea past me of opening a gun shop. He wasn't impressed with the selection at that new Chandlery and he would manufacture and do custom work and repairs, which they don't."

"I only got him contracted for a month and you're already trying to steal him away?"

"Not me," Eddie said, holding his hands up in dramatic innocence. "He's talking about starting his own business. He hasn't said anything about partnering or loans. But it sounds like something we need. If he can't carry the startup costs himself, somebody will buy in. The investors from the smaller countries are practically running up and down the corridors yelling and waving cash money right now."

Gunny poured them tea and leaned back relaxed.

"You know what?" April directed at Gunny and suddenly grinned.

"What?" he asked- interested, but not worried.

"You are acting different already. I feel different too, but had to see it in you to think about it. I didn't expect that medication to work this fast, but no way you'd have leaned back all relaxed like that yesterday morning."

"You're right. I never thought to ask Doctor Lee how long it took to kick in."

"PTS meds," he said to Eddie's worried look. "After awhile people shooting at you starts to get to you."

"Eddie has been in combat," April informed him. "He put a missile in the James Kelly and blew her in two. He has as much right to be stressed as us."

"Yes, but sitting at a weapons board and seeing a dot get wiped off your radar screen isn't like seeing your assailant pointing a weapon at you and hearing bullets crack past."

"It wasn't like that at all, you seriously need to see the video," April insisted. "I'll bring it up on the screen."

"Wow, they were right there," Gunny admitted after watching it. "And you opened the lock up to shoot it right off your shoulder. I was treating you like some poser. I apologize, Ed."

Eddie just waved it away as unimportant with a flip of his hand.

"Yep, they were just a couple hundred yards away," April agreed. "We have external racks now, but back then everything was make-shift and jury rigged, we only had two missiles in little disposable launching tubes anyway."

"I was under stress from the combat for such a brief period," Eddie explained, "and my attention was really focused on doing my job and recovering Mr. Singh. I was worried because my family became involved more than any brief personal risk. I've experienced no bad dreams or anything. I can see how chronic stress happens however, especially when it keeps being reinforced over and over."

"You have family up here who were at risk?"

"No, I might as well tell you. My family are Earthies, but they are all Mafia. I've had a horrible time keeping my professional life separated from them. When I disappeared myself to work undercover they had this misapprehension I'd been kidnapped or worse. Once they were quite sure the fellow playing my double  hadn't harmed me they saw me safely back on our ship and quietly left."

"Does the mob have a boss running its business on Home?" Gunny asked.

"Do you know, I never wondered about that? Before the war I always assumed we were too small to support a criminal underworld. But now consider, how can you have organized crime when there is almost no law? If you want to sell drugs, or engage in prostitution or take bets you can. There are no cops to bribe and any conflict between competitors wouldn't have to be hidden."

"But you do have the community standards that are backed by the ability to call a duel. I heard it related there was very nearly one already. Until those boundaries are pretty well established and defined I'd tread very lightly on any activities that might get me called out."

"Indeed you are very much correct on that. There are already several services being offered that would be illegal below, but the practitioners are keeping a very low public profile to not call attention to themselves. It would be hard to call someone out if it wasn't a public matter. I expect it to stay that way for a long time," Eddie told them with an amused smile. "It isn't that much different from when I was growing up in a small rural town in Illinois. Everything looked prim and proper walking down main street, but you could buy any vice you wanted."

"What sort of stuff?" April wondered.

"Nothing you need to know and telling you would embarrass me. Do you really want to make me uncomfortable?" Eddie asked.

"No, I'll just ask my grandpa. I know he had a bookie before the war, so he probably knows everything going on and he's impossible to embarrass."

"That's one of the perks of being older. I suspect Life Extension is going to make it hard to play the grumpy old geezer. It'll be hard to carry off if you don't look old. The whole idea may vanish in time and people may not understand it in old literature."

"I've got to get started on that," Gunny admitted. "Before I look the part."

"I've recently begun some treatments. We have a fellow on station now who can do all the basic treatments. Another friend of April's by some coincidence," he said smiling at her.

"Everybody seems to be April's friend," Gunny scoffed.

"Except for the Chinese guy in Medical's cooler," April pointed out.

"Yes, there are a lot of folks down on the mudball that don't like you. And if they are smart they'll stay down there," Gunny said gruffly. It was the first time April heard him say mudball.

"Thank you again," that prompted Eddie to say, shamefaced. "We very badly misjudged the hazard we were exposing you to in North America."

"That's the main thing I wanted to talk to you about," April said, seizing the moment. "I don't feel I accomplished much, I certainly planned to stay much longer. I know my grandpa said if I didn't use any funds to keep the balance, but I felt it went so badly I should offer you a refund if you were not satisfied with my performance."

Eddie looked at her, mouth open a bit, which wasn't like him. "My thought was you might be going to chew me out for sticking you in the middle of such a mess. If you asked for a hazard pay fine for my having such bad judgment I wouldn't have argued. Just like we pay a premium to the lock guard on our ships at dock. No, keep the funds and more than welcome to them. I didn't expect you to have to shoot your way free to come home," he said, grimacing.

"We're square then?"

"Maybe for money, but if you ever need me to man up and travel into hazard I owe that."

"Let's try to avoid that for both of us," April said.

"Maybe Heather's real estate project will be an easy one for a change," Eddie hoped. "It's so far away from the other lunar bases, way off in the God forsaken middle of nowhere really. I can't see how anybody can object to it."

"You two certainly don't sound like typical hardcore businessmen, determined to see every nickel extracted that your contract says you are owed," Gunny observed. "I'm used to seeing companies suing each other in the news so often that it seems more important who wins in court than what they actually do or make."

"That sort of behavior made a sort of sense once," April said. "At least down on the slumball, because they have so many other businesses and people jammed elbow to elbow you could write any one off and survive. Even on Earth the rise of internet reporting of crooks and scams on social networks and business rating boards was making that sort of behavior hard to hide."

Eddie nodded agreement. "The community above the atmosphere is really limited. We don't even need net boards to spread the word if somebody is a shyster. As April says I can't afford to have anyone unhappy with me. If one of my customers or suppliers has a failure that isn't even my fault I might take a loss to help him stay in business if I can, rather than take advantage of his misfortune. You can have a situation where there may only be three proto shops that can fabricate certain sorts of items. Losing one of them is a tragedy to the business community. You lose irreplaceable expertise and the others do not just absorb his workers and machines and keep offering the same services at the same price. I may need his services for a different one of my businesses. I can't imagine how long it will take to fill the solar system with so many businesses that reliable vendors become disposable like Earth."

"I can see that," Gunny agreed, looking thoughtful. "And maybe you can afford to act that way easier when you aren't taxed down to razor thin margins," he guessed correctly.

"But it means that good, honest businesses can hold customers longer too, April said. "Used to be if a business lasted a hundred years it had to have three generations of good proprietors. Soon it will be one. A single owner consistently managing a business two or three hundred years may be something we'll see in our lifetimes. It's going to concentrate customer loyalty and concentrate wealth and make it much harder to break into any sort of venture that has other established vendors. The volume of business is going to grow faster than the number of suppliers. I want to take good care of my business associates so we have stable long term relationships," April said.

"The shop Eddie and I use to build ships will call up their supposed competitors and share out work if they get a sudden load they can't handle. I can't see that happening among Earthies."

"Gary Chalmers," Eddie said to April. "Prime example of shooting self in foot."

"Oh yeah! Gunny, this fellow Chalmers was secretly working as an agent for North America back when we had the war. He thought he was going to be running the whole habitat for the USNA soon, so he stopped making any pretense of being polite. For example, when one of his customer's sons sat at the cafeteria table and tried to talk to his daughter he very rudely separated them since the kid wasn't a proper Christian to dare speak to his daughter. You can imagine how that went over with the boy's father," she said rolling her eyes.

"He alienated all the dozen or so people he could do business with by stupid stuff like that in a matter of months and had to shut down his business. His guys all went off to other companies. What was even worse, he had moral objections to life extension and wasn't shy to say so. All these other owners looked at him and saw any business they had with him as temporary, because all the other guys were buying extension treatments. See how it works?"

"Indeed, I see I better get treated if I want customers. Is there no medical privacy up here? How does word get out whether somebody has LET or not?"

April looked surprised. "Gunny, you've been living down on Earth. I bet you haven't seen a dozen people with LET face to face. Up here over half the population has it and we've seen the changes when they went through it. You see it in their face and hands, the little wrinkles disappear and the voice changes, even how they walk changes sometimes."

"Oh."

"It's different, but you'll figure it all out and fit in soon," Eddie promised.

"I'm making more tea," Gunny announced, getting up. He looked like he had absorbed as much different as he could for now.

"Would you bring us a bunch of those cookies too, please?" April requested.

"Are we operational now on the new ships? I have to become involved in that again. My grandpa must be sick of dealing with it."

"Your grandpa is good at delegating. He hired Jed Allison who worked for Dave at Advanced Spacecraft Services. He's tired of doing the nut turning and ready to try his hand at administrative work. He's been doing most scheduling and even some sales. Your grandpa has just been reviewing what Jed does. We have a couple new guys coming in for flight crew too."

"Well, if that is working, fine. I'll leave it alone. I have enough other things to keep me busy. I have to see what condition all of Bob's old companies are in and decide if I want to keep them or sell them. I have some ventures with both Jeff and Heather and of course Heather's moon thing," April explained.

"We have the Happy of course, Home Again and
Eddie's Scooter. Eddie's Rascal and Eddie's Folly are functional, but still missing some systems," Eddie counted off on his fingers. "Hopefully the Earthies can't tell they are not in full fighting trim. We have Eddie's Fortune on the rack, but we are building it slow because of material shortages and because we don't want to build any more of that series. Call it a spare. We are stretching the market for fast couriers. I'm making them pay for themselves in order to have them for our defense, but I think we could actually make more money running two fewer ships and charging higher rates."

"You take lower priority loads to keep them busy?" April guessed, interested.

"Exactly and I don't want to drive any of the older outfits out of business. Having more eyes at other docks and more Home ships in flight at any time is good for us. You'd be amazed what an informal intelligence outfit Jon has made of all of them. He has them bringing him video and recording of local radio chatter everyplace they stop."

"I've invested more in Heather's venture than I planned, pushed the money at her actually. I simply made more on my investments than I expected and had to put it somewhere." He looked slightly embarrassed at his good fortune.

"It isn't something I expect to continue. The economy is heating up. Some things look to be building to a bubble. We kind of put a damper on it with the war temporarily, but a lot of my so-called wealth will disappear overnight if there is a recession. I'm trying to convert paper wealth to tangibles, but it is a very difficult thing to do. Even buying land is uncertain because one of the first things countries in trouble do is nationalize the holdings of foreigners."

"At least you shouldn't have that trouble on the moon." April stopped and looked worried. "Does that mean they might take my house in Hawaii?"

"If we end up shooting at each other again, yeah, that might easily happen. The fact that we didn't do that with Mitsubishi-3, with the actual physical habitat, was a bright spot of modern politics. But whatever dollar value we refrained from stealing it was certainly worth the support it gained us from Japan and Tonga. And I think it only could have boosted the investment we see now, because people see us as a stable and safe place to invest instead of waiting to see how our government acts and if they will go crazy nationalizing things."

"It was all your money that bought my house. You might not think I'd value it, but I went out and picked furniture and colors and really got attached to that place even though I didn't get to live there," April admitted. "I just don't get politics at all. I agreed to study economics now for Jeff, because we're starting a bank. But what good does it do to understand how an economy works if some politicians can just change all the rules and steal your stuff ? How can you plan anything? I intended to ask you about that today. You have so much money now I figure you have to have learned something about economics. Or maybe you've hired an economist by now?"

Eddie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had his hands wrapped around his tea mug like he was warming them. His lips were unhappy and April was starting to think he was going to refuse to answer her when his eyes popped open again. He got in his case and pulled out a wallet and laid a USNA hundred dollar bill on the table.

"How did this come into existence?" he asked her.

"Well I don't know much about printing, but I think you are asking more than that."

"Yes, you're a bright young woman. I should say what is the basis upon which it was created?"

"Well I understand it isn't backed by tangibles. I've read several times it is backed by the full faith and credit of the USNA. Do I have that right?" April asked, afraid of sounding silly.

"Yes. Now consider what that means. The government still has considerable land and it has all sorts of stuff on the land. Courthouses, agency buildings, bridges and airports, the roads themselves and all the things in museums and gold reserves and things like vehicles and patent rights. It can parcel out the rights to oil and gas and metals under that land. Those things are all capital assets. If they wish they can put up a toll booth and charge you to use the road. They can charge you to go in and use the national parks or land on their runways, right?"

"Okay I'm following you," she agreed.

"Yet they chose to base the money on their credit. Not that I can blame them. If I want to have money loaned to me given a choice between putting up the Home Boy as collateral, or being given the same money just on my word I'll repay, I'll take the unsecured loan any day," he said. "So why should you trust the government to repay more than me?" he asked directly.

"Well, I know you're rich, but the government is so much bigger. I can see you going broke if you make enough stupid mistakes, but they are hardly going to go out of business!"

"And what is their business?" Eddie asked.

April looked uncertain. "Making all those airports and stuff?" she guessed.

"No, any of those things could be done privately. There are private airports and bridges and even toll roads. No, the business of government is to tax. They have an unlimited right to tax the future earnings of their entire population to meet their obligations. And that right to tax is backed up by force. They can send armed men to put you in prison if you refuse to pay your taxes." He waited and let April think about that.

"We don't do that," she finally said.

"Indeed, we are currently the only nation in which payment of taxes is voluntary. Some make the claim but when you examine it closely it is a lie. The only effective way to pay no taxes down below is to not make any money," he assured her. "Being able to tax means they can also borrow money against those future taxes and that is the source of more problems than I even want to get into with you today. If Home wanted to borrow money right now people would be insane to lend it. We have no assured mechanism for paying them back. No port fees, no entry fees, no tariffs, no income tax. When you get right down to it all the Earth governments are just as much a protection racket as any my relatives run."

"Ouch, that seems a bit harsh."

"Yes, it is, but think on it a few days and see if isn't true. Can you opt out?"

"Well, Gunny is opting out. He's moving up here and is going to take up Home citizenship."

"Did he get all his money out?"

"He got some help to get his cash money out, but he has real estate he wants to sell and he is going to pay the exit taxes so he is free to visit again if he wants."

"And if he didn't pay those fees to buy himself free?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," April agreed. "He could never go back."

"He already paid tax on all the money he saved back when he earned it, so why does he owe them anymore? I bet it's a good chuck too isn't it?"

"About three-hundred thousand. A pretty good sized chunk, yeah, of what he owns."

"See, that tax is not on what he earned, it's a fee because he is removing that future income from their taxation. Hey, they have already borrowed against it. It's spent."

"Wow."

"Wow indeed. And you will never see an economics textbook explain it that nakedly."

"It does sound pretty ruthless and ugly, the way you explain it."

"That's why I don't have much use for professional economists. If you were going to hire an economist how would you chose one?" Eddie asked her.

"Just like a pilot or a fabricator. I'd want to see their certifications and schooling and trade experience."

"You might find somebody with a degree in economics, but there are no certifications, no professional organization to issue them like engineers or architects. In reality a lot of people working as economists have degrees or experience in mathematics or computer science or even as working farmers. You could call yourself an economist and go into the predictive side of the business if you wanted and nobody could stop you."

"How did you come to know this stuff?" April demanded.

"My mafia uncles explained economics to me when I was your age. But they couched it all in their own business terms. It translates quite well believe me. A lot of the conflict between my family and government is simple competition for resources, not morals. The government used to oppose gambling of any sort for example. Now almost every state has casinos and lotteries. What is amusing is, the Mob would give you better odds of winning than the state."

"So what are you saying about economics? Not to bother studying it?"

"Not at all. It's good to know the language of economics and the history especially, but be skeptical. Don't fall into the trap of embracing a particular school of economics like it is a religion. Jeff is very smart. Ask him which school of economics he thinks you should study. I bet his answer will be educational all by itself," he stopped and thought a minute.

"I'd like you to look up how money is created. All money now is debt. If you go for a loan to buy a spaceship say from a USNA bank, the money is created right then. It isn't paid out to you from other people's deposits. There used to be requirements that the banks had to have funds to back what they loaned out. That has been nibbled away until it is just token amounts. And one last idea I want you to understand. Credit spends the same as capital. Make a note of that on your pad even. In time you'll see why it is important. It spends the same but you have to pay back the interest too. There is all the systemic difference in the world and lots of really smart people don't see the difference."

"Thank you, Eddie. I'll do that," she said taking notes."Maybe I'll look it all over and come up with my own theory of economics and gather disciples," she teased.

"Disciples? Make any sense of it and I'll hire you."

"Tell me what you think about Heather's moon project. Are you going to go there yourself?"

"Do I look crazy? They will be roughing it for months. I like hot showers and pleasant breakfasts in the cafeteria, not sani-wipes and boxed rations. But let me tell you about the rovers we found the Russians want to sell…"

Chapter 8

The Chinese military aide stationed at ISSII was startled at a rapping on his hatch. Most people did business over the com and he had very few visitors to his work space. He liked it that way. "Just a moment!" he called and looked over his desk and shelves carefully to make sure nothing of a confidential nature was visible. Then he shut his computer completely off. Turning just the monitor off didn't mask the emissions this machine could give off, betraying its activity.

When he answered the door his section chief was standing there with a Laowai right in their secure cubic. He bristled at the sight, staring, but was neither reprimanded for his failure to control his face nor given any apology for the foreigner's presence. His boss apparently had bigger troubles today than what upset him or if the White Ghost would be offended at his visible rage.

"Song Zhang, if we might have a moment of your time, do these have any meaning to you?" He thrust forward a multi-pane printout of  tattoos. They were oddly distorted in a way he'd never seen, but still legible. He looked at the White Ghost, unwilling to speak what he knew in front of him.

"We have need of your knowledge. Be assured you will not endanger anyone by telling us what these mean. The body on which these were seen is beyond the concerns of the living."

"That is – unfortunate,"  Zhang allowed.  "These are inspirational slogans common to the elite of special forces and usually tattooed with other images of unit banners and badges. Yes, I see the edge of one there. May I ask how we come to be in possession of these?"

"Traffic control noted an object slowly drifting away from the station large enough to be a hazard to navigation. When a scooter was dispatched to collect it they were surprised to find a corpse in a rescue ball. The discoloration is due to exposure to direct sunlight and the fact the pressure had bled off somewhat," he explained.

"Rescue balls are only designed to hold breathable pressure for a few hours unless the person inside releases oxygen from the small canister attached to the inside. This person had been in the ball for something like six hours and was in no condition to activate the canister when he was put in the ball."

"You mean he was deceased when he was inserted?" Zhang inquired, surprised.

"It certainly looks that way. The ball was undamaged but he had three rounds to the heart and lungs of a large caliber pistol with frangible ammunition, an ordinary kitchen knife jammed to the hilt through a kidney and visible burn marks about his head and shoulders that indicate electrocution too."

"Was he in our uniform?" Zhang asked both sickened and alarmed, but hid it from his face this time.

"No, he was in European civilian clothing and oddly his hair and upper body were stained with coffee. The knife was Swiss. Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Not at all. But with those tattoos I can assure you he is ours. If you would acquire custody of him I will run his identifying characteristics through the military system and find out to whom he should be returned. Undoubtedly he had comrades and family who would want to know."

The supervisor just looked a question at the foreigner and he gave a nod of agreement. So he spoke Chinese well enough to have followed their exchange.

"That is all then. The fellow will be repatriated with our medical section in a few hours so you can conduct your inquiry," and they left without another word.

It was bizarre. He knew no special forces were present on ISSII. He'd be notified if one was even passing through to another destination.

Chapter 9

The letter from Adzusa was unexpected. April hadn't gotten an actual hard copy letter in a year. It was odd to think that it was probably more secure now than most electronic communications. The more so the way Adzusa sent it.

Jeff called her on com the very morning she received the package and informed her Adzusa had given him a voice call and after some uncharacteristic chatter, asked him to tell her to look carefully through the packing in a gift she sent because she had lost an earring and it might have dropped in the box or gotten crumpled in the packing. Neither one of them believed that. It was pretty safe to tell them since the package was already on Home and pretty hard to intercept unless their two long-time FedEx guys were corrupt.

While she had him on com, April asked Jeff to help her narrow down what he wanted her to know about economics. She pointed out the myriad schools of thought both classic and modern and told him if she studied everything available on the subject she could easily spend a decade and only have an overview.

Jeff suggested there were only two real schools of thought. Those who wanted the economy to be free to do what it wanted organically. Free to take a course that was the sum of individuals' decisions in the marketplace and those who wanted the government to regulate it. He asserted the degree of intervention was unimportant, because any intervention always progressed to full central planning as it failed to produce the desired results and more intervention was promoted as the cure.

"Other than that, I'd suggest you study the history of economics. When there were booms and busts and as much as you can see why they occurred. Sometimes reading old newspapers tells you more than the official propaganda. If you read the government agency statements there is a solid disconnect from what the job ads and prices in the papers tell you was happening."

The package arrived after lunch and was a traditional tea set. The markings said it came from Singapore via Tonga. When she examined the packing, however, the paper was a letter written out by hand on the big sheets of rice paper balled protectively around each cup. It detailed how her neighbor and Adzusa foiled an attempted invasion of her home by a Chinese team. She owed them for that. April could not figure what they hoped to accomplish by that at first, then she thought about the timing and realized they may have thought she was hiding out there when she was actually at sea on Papa-san's boat, but the attack in the cafeteria said they must know better now.

She also said she would send news of Papa-san when she had it and not to believe everything she heard in the news. That didn't surprise her at all. Gunny would be interested.

Leave it to Adzusa, the tea set could have been any expedient, but it was very nice too.

* * *

Some of Bob's companies April knew about. She'd helped him start a few. She had no real excuse to put off getting into the folders. The papers she spread out and started reading revealed he owned or kept an interest in some of which she'd never been aware. The meal delivery service, the company to buy the clothing of tourists rather than ship them back to Earth, she knew. There was a company that imported small gifts and chocolates for the absent-minded who suddenly remembered tomorrow was a birthday or anniversary and had no time to schedule a delivery from Earth. She knew of that but hadn't helped with it.

That company had started importing a limited selection of liquor and champagne as soon as shipping resumed after the war. It sold by delivery to your door only with no expensive retail store. The only bar in the habitat was the one in the beam-dog's cafeteria to sell liquor by the glass with no bottle sales. The closest liquor store she knew of was on New Las Vegas where the tourist trade was the main business. She briefly wondered if the new ship's chandlery would carry spirits? She never imagined she'd be in competition with Zack for any business.

The ill fated mushroom growing business had closed under order from Environmental, but there was a small service supplying cut flowers and potted plants that used ingenious ways to cheaply acquire both soil and pots as part of other commercial orders lifted to orbit. She was a customer herself with three potted plants hanging in the corners of her room to help purify the air, but hadn't known she was buying them from a business her brother started and in which he had a stake.

There was a home cleaning service that also did minor handy-man repairs and resurfacing of walls and floors. Another single person business was a lady who did mending and simple tailoring, like adjusting hems, although she did upholstery too.

A little firm stocked party and holiday decorations and offered gift wrapping with singing delivery. They did graphic design and short run printing. She suspected they had made her Welcome Home banner. They had odds and ends like greeting cards, puzzles, a few kitchen utensils and some very adult toys that made April blush even though she was alone.

There were twenty-two other companies that ether kept one person busy or were second jobs that supplemented someone's income.

What April could not figure out was why any of the people running these little operations didn't just drop the payment to her brother and go out on their own. Most of them were set up to pay her brother about five percent of their gross income. None were that big but together they added up nicely. She'd had no idea a year and a half or two years ago he was doing that well. She called her gramps on com and put the question to him, "Why don't these folks just go out on their own and run their own business?"

"I wondered the same thing little gal. Some of them stick with it because they'd have to change their com code or start with a new business name and they are scared they'd lose customers. I talked with a few of them and most paid Bob to buy the business, customer list included, even if it was just a few hundred dollars. Some are supplied under the company name Bob started and are fearful they couldn't get a line of credit or legacy pricing on their own," he explained.

"Most just aren't the creative sort to start something all by themselves and a few have a real fear of trying to sell anything. If they didn't get new customers by word of mouth they would fold right up as people move or retire. Bob may have been greedy like we've discussed, but I have to admit he had it pegged pretty accurately what the market would bear. Five percent is a small enough bite most of these folks find it easier to pay every month than to risk upsetting what is working well. What do you intend to do with them?"

"Hey, if they are happy paying and feel it's worth it, why should I turn down the income?"

"If you look at the notes Bob kept in detail, he records a number of times he had to help these folks get past a problem. A couple times their costs went up and they were terrified to raise their prices. He did a little hand holding and got them past their panic. Don't be surprised if they call you now when they run into a glitch. If you offered to just give them the full ownership and withdraw I wouldn't be surprised but what a few of them would feel abandoned. They like knowing they have somebody decisive to call when they aren't sure what to do."

"No wonder Bob thought I wanted him to run the courier business because I couldn't!" April blurted out. "He had all these timid hand wringers who would have never had the guts to try to start a new business depending on him. After a while you must get really disgusted and think that's just normal."

"Well, there were a few businesses he sold outright and the people didn't want any further input from him," her grandpa revealed. "But those tended to be bigger industrial sort of shops instead of little one-proprietor services. For example he sold a business with three employees and some nice contracts for pressure suit repair about six months before the war. Those bigger deals  are the source of most of the cash balance he left you."

"Yeah, when I saw those numbers I remembered how he offered to buy me out in payments. He could have afforded to give me a pretty decent chunk down on the courier business if he had wanted to, but he didn't," April said, irked all over again.

"And I suspect part of the reason he wouldn't do that is he was getting almost reclusive," her gramps told her. "A couple years ago he'd love to tell me all excited when he was thinking up a new business. About the time he turned sixteen he stopped doing that."

"What was he so private about? He was out late all the time, but Home doesn't have any night life, does it? Are there some secret gambling dens or something I don't know about? Eddie pretty much said there is some stuff going on that would be the vice squad's business on Earth, but he didn't want to embarrass himself  by telling it to me," she said rolling her eyes in frustration. "I might blush, but I'm not going to faint away in shock."

"There are a couple private places that have a bar and serve drinks. So far both of them are run as private members-only clubs. You have to be approved by the members to buy in. One place has live music and a comedy night. They serve food, run a poker game room, or screen videos if they don't have a game. The other place has sports gambling and shows a lot of live Earth feed of events. There are a few people we are pretty sure make their living by prostitution, but the clubs don't get involved," he said very emphatically. "They could have a trust fund," he admitted.

"Jon and a few of us old timers talked about it and have decided to ignore it as long as the assembly ignores it. If nobody is out in the corridors making a spectacle and as long as it doesn't lead to crimes against either party then there is no law yet against it. The one thing we agreed is if somebody wants to do that – well that is their choice. But if we see somebody pimping and enslaving others as a business we'll put a quick stop to it. By bringing it up in the assembly or informally if necessary," he said with grim look.

"Thanks for telling me the straight stuff instead of pussy-footing around it," April said.

"You haven't finished reading all the folders yet," Happy said as fact, not asking. "I was going to have to tell you anyway when you got to the folder about the Home Social Club. That's the first place I was talking about that has music. You'll find you have a twenty percent interest in it. And no, before you ask, Bob didn't hang out there because I play poker there often enough and never saw him hanging out coming or going."

"Wow, I own part of a night club?" April asked stunned.

"Well, I'm sure Earthies would turn their nose up at it. Don't get any silly ideas what it is like from watching Casablanca. There's no room for an acoustical piano, the tables are tiny and most of the chairs are fold up Hardoy chairs for the half G level. But it's in the industrial area so they can crank up the music and they don't do too bad at creating an atmosphere."

"Will you take me some night when they have jazz?" April asked, surprising him. "Can you take guests?"

"I hardly think they'd turn away one of the owners at the door," he said, amused. "But, uh, people kind of dress up. Do you need to get something to wear?"

"That's not a problem," April said with a sudden grin. Happy just lifted an eyebrow at her mischievous face . He had no idea she had some very elegant dresses made when she'd been down to Earth. She'd managed to bring those lifting from Tonga. Frank, the designer, had sent the matching jewelry to Home while she was sailing around the Pacific. It would be fun to have someplace to wear them.

"Call me again if you have any more questions when you get into the files deeper," he invited. "I'll find out when there'll be some jazz," he said and logged off.

April dug until she found the papers on the club, fascinated. It made sense the liquor importing company supplied the nightclub. So she was a supplier besides the twenty percent. By the time she read that folder she was tired of it. She'd been at it three hours. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

She was sitting thinking about everything, trying to decide what she needed to do and what would take care of itself when her com dinged. It was Jon so she was happy to answer.

"Hello Jon, Thank you again for your protection in the cafeteria. Your having Margaret there ahead of the guy was impressive. You were way ahead of him right from when he stepped off the shuttle I understand."

"That's my job, but that's why I'm calling. I have a favor to ask."

"I'll do it if I can."

"It's not something you're very good at," Jon admitted. "I'd like you to be a bit duplicitous. I've seen you are very direct. Your allowing folks to meter your statements on Earth was devastating. But I'd like you to forget entirely about that fellow shooting at you in the cafeteria."

"That shouldn't be hard," April agreed. "Nobody let him get a single shot off. I can say in all honesty nobody shot – at me."

"That's exactly how I need you to think so if you are analyzed it reads as truthful and as little evidence there is any qualification or deception as possible. I've talked with everyone there and nobody has any problem agreeing it never happened. I've arranged for the body to be disappeared and it is one less thing for the Chinese to hold against you or Home."

"What did you do? Cremate him?" April wondered. "Won't they know anyway? I mean, they sent him here. Where else would he have died?"

"We were little more artistic than that. He appeared over by ISSII. It was too difficult to sneak him inside, but we dropped him off in a rescue ball and they've found him already. We didn't try to cover up that he was Tasered, didn't even wash the coffee off or take the knife out of his back."

"It's only meant to create some doubt what really happened. It has to be bizarre to have three possible causes of death applied so simultaneously that none can be assigned priority. There is no record of him entering here now, he wasn't wearing spex and he was under observation seamlessly from entering Home and nobody saw him use com to report in that he had arrived. There has to be some doubt now. Especially in the sort of minds that play these games."

"Did you remember to wipe Ruby's prints off the knife?"

"Now really, who are you talking to little gal?" Jon asked, quietly amused.

"Sorry." It was nice he was amused instead of taking offense quickly. "That's fine with me."

* * *

April had been back home long enough to generate some bills that didn't get paid by auto-pay. She scrolled through them, checking off approval boxes for the things she had to buy Gunny and some odds and ends for herself. She checked her brother's com account and to her surprise there were some charges that hadn't cleared. She hadn't expected that. They all seemed to be for trivial personal expenses, a pair of spex, some paper pads and footies.

The one that didn't make sense was a notice that said: Your monthly statement has been posted. She followed the link and it showed a log on for Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena. It had a nice still picture of a stone building and said Banca Dal 1472. Could that possibly mean what she thought, the length of time they'd been in business?  She asked for a translation. Yep, that's what it meant all right.

She thought about trying to log on. Most systems would lock you out if you made three bad tries. She could see if the user name was in the computer. She clicked on the first box and a twelve digit number appeared in it. She recorded that on her hand com while she had it on the screen. That was probably the account number. When she clicked on the password  box nothing happened. It wasn't held in the system. Oh well. Time to ask Gramps what to do.

"There wasn't anything in his papers about an Italian bank account," Happy insisted.

"Well, they had his addy to drop him a reminder his account was updated. The number comes up when you click on the first box so he's logged on before. Do you have anybody who is good enough with computers they might suck the password out for us?"

"I'd ask Jon. It's connected to the Mitsubishi net so I'd want him to know why we are trying to hack it anyway."

"That's the sort of thing Eddie used to do for me," Jon told her.

She finally ended up with Jon, Happy, Eddie and Gunny all crowded around looking at the household com. Eddie sat beside her and she brought up the link.

"Nobody has any objection if I try to see if there is any trace of the logon left in memory?" Eddie asked them all.

"I'll deal with anybody from the com center if you trip any sort of alarms," Jon offered. "I'll say it is part of the investigation into Bob's death if they have any questions."

"Okay, let's peel this baby open," Eddie pulled out a candy bar sized module with an optical port connector and plugged it in the side of the com screen. The graphics went away and a whole bunch of text appeared with all sorts of symbols. Eddie typed in things a few times and the text changed. He didn't look happy and the wait between each new string he typed in lengthened.

"What is that you plugged in?" April wanted to know.

"It's actually a complete small computer," He explained. "It is small because it doesn't have to do a lot of things a general purpose machine does. It's good for a long Federal vacation down on the dirtball, but it self-erases if a different thumb than mine is put on its taste pad. Sorry to tell you Bob never asked the system to keep his password and the encryption and safety systems worked perfectly to remove it when he was through. It only shows the address being accessed three times. Could that make sense?"

"Yes, if it is a new account. I logged on once earlier and now with you guys here. So he might have only had it open once to set up the account. I have no idea why he'd need a new account though. He's been using the account my dad opened for him when he was ten years old for everything."

"A North American bank?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, but I haven't heard anything about them messing with personal accounts have you?"

"Well, perhaps he had some funds he wanted moved out of their easy reach. If it was new he likely didn't have the password memorized yet, but he was smart, he'd never write it down near the screen like people do. If he had it on a note in his wallet it's gone forever."

"Ohhh! April exclaimed and looked up at all the expectant faces. "Just a minute," she said and ran in her room to dig through Bob's things. She returned with a business card with hand writing and offered it to Eddie. "Let's try this. I had no idea what it might be."

Eddie typed in SAF)dz$PckXib and hit enter. The screen came up in Italian and he picked English from a pull down menu, but not before April gasped at the number of zeros. The account showed one deposit two days before she'd gone down to Earth. It was for twelve million EuroMarks and it had already accumulated four thousand seven hundred sixty three EuroMarks of interest.

Nobody said anything.

"Well, now we know Bob was working for North America," her granddad said sadly. "Where else did he get this kind of money? I'd bet they paid him and he was smart enough to move it out of their reach. If you could check I bet it was transferred creatively several times before it ended up in this account or they'd have clawed it back by now. I suggest you do the same immediately," he told April.

"I don't want this money! It's dirty!" April objected.

"April, you are being stupid. It's not like you," he grandpa objected. She probably wouldn't have listened to that from anybody else. "The money is an object. You may do something moral or immoral to acquire it, but it doesn't take on the characteristics of its owner. You took a pistol off the Chinese officer from the Jade you guys killed and you didn't say – Oh yuck this is an evil pistol."

"That's different," she insisted, scowling.

"How?"

They sat silent for a moment. Happy was unwilling to let her off the hook by saying anything. The longer it went the more it was obvious she had no argument. Nevertheless she clicked on a secondary page for the site and told her com to keep hitting it to hold the site from timing out. So she was still holding her options open.

"Perhaps you should call up the North Americans and reward them by asking to which agency you should return the funds," Eddie suggested. "That will rub their noses in your rectitude!" he said sarcastically.

"Uh, no. They don't deserve the funds back either," she agreed, conflicted.

"Well if you leave it sitting there, chances are they will eventually trace it and do a charge back of some sort. They have the power to put a lot of pressure on people even if they have no clear legal right to the funds."

"Where can I put it they can't – Oh, we have our own bank now," she smiled. "I'll call Jeff and ask him how to do a wire transfer.

"Yes, we can do a wire transfer from an Italian bank," he agreed, but looking a dozen questions with his face. April ignored that quizzical look. "I have us signed up for a Russian service. It would translate as 'Secure Transit' or 'Safe Move' to do European wire transfers. Just give me the account data and I'll can do it in five minutes or so."

She fed him the numbers, but left two thousand EuroMarks in the account, worried that actually closing it out would trigger some sort of human intervention.

The com emitted a funny choking sound. "You could have warned me how much you wanted to deposit," Jeff told her. "Where the heck did that come from?"

"I won the Lotto," April deadpanned. "Thanks Jeff," she said and disconnected him before he could keep prying. If it didn't transfer for some reason she was sure he'd call right back.

"That's an excellent idea," her grandfather approved. It obviously amused him too. "If everyone here would agree, I'd like to keep this matter secret for family reasons. My daughter in law would be very depressed and shamed to have confirmed her son was traitorous. I see no advantage to causing her pain."

Gunny for his part was surprised April showed such independence. He'd have thought she'd spill the whole story to her close friend Jeff. He marked this to remember.

There was a murmur of agreement and head nodding all around. "This is suspicious, but it isn't really hard confirmation anyway," Eddie pointed out. "Unless we had some way to trace the funds back to a known agency front or individual it's still circumstantial." That seemed to cheer April up slightly.

Everybody found reason to leave quickly but Eddie. "Your grandpa said you had a bunch of small bills your brother made. You can call a lawyer if you want, but my personal recommendation is you simply send them all a notice he is deceased. If there is anything expensive you don't want to keep you could offer to return it. But if you start paying his unsecured bills than you throw yourself open to paying them all. I know it isn't our law now, but if somebody takes it before the Assembly they might very well rule that way because it's what  people who know are used to the law saying from before. It would be much too easy and human nature, to go with what is familiar."

"What could he have possibly bought that would be so much?" she asked skeptically.

"You don't know. But you didn't expect him to be in Lunar orbit with a USNA warship either," he pointed out. "I'd hate for you to pay for some footies, establishing you'll pay his debts and then find out he made an offer on a cubic you don't want, or was having a yacht built down in Australia for when he visits your grandparents."

"Okay, I'll take your advice on that for now. But I guess I'll be doing enough business I need an Earth lawyer now, don't I?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Here's who both Jeff and I have retained if you want a USNA firm," Eddie offered calling an addy up. "Chances are if you have legal problems it's still going to be with North America. We still have more trade with them than anybody even after the war. If you need a Japanese or European firm they can arrange one for you."

"Thank you Eddie. I appreciate you taking care of me."

"That's what friends are for April. I had a friend once who put her butt on the line to rescue me from ISSII and shot up the Chinese and anyone else who got in the way," he reminded her.

She was too embarrassed to say anything.

Chapter 10

"The agent signed out of New Las Vegas and the authorities on Home claim he never signed in there. He did not sign back in to New Las Vegas on the return  trip. Given the choice to believe Home or New Las Vegas, the scum on Home are lying dogs," Song Zhang said.

"I don't doubt that, but just for the sake of argument, would it be possible to have received these injuries aboard a shuttle?" the Earth official on his monitor asked.

"Yes, but every passenger on the shuttle would have been deafened and panicked. There was no report of any disturbance when they docked, no call from the crew about disorder. I'd like to see these traitors punished for their insolence," Song Zhang pleaded, fist clutched.

"Thank you, for your zeal," his administrator acknowledged. "There will be stronger action. But it is already set in motion and you don't fit in the operational plan this time. I'll keep you in mind for the future, because there is a store of debt to set right with these people."

Chapter 11

ISSII was busy. The armed merchant Eddie's Rascal had to wait three hours for a docking collar to come open. Several government owned ships were holding past their scheduled departure causing the delay. One from North America had a sick flight crew member. An Australian vessel was having computer problems and a Chinese craft was simply late leaving, keeping their reasons private as was typical of that secretive nation. There was an actual flock of unmanned freight shuttles standing by at lower priority, clustered around a big radar reflector with blue strobe lights at each quarter.

Click would have been tempted to do an EV, but he had more freight than could be comfortably man carried to an airlock and some customers might complain about exposure to vacuum even if they didn't spec it as pressure freight. Edwards, his number two and the recent hire Tommy Waldecker, were content to wait, happy to run up their hours, neither having the antsy personality of Click, their pilot.

There was a chest of medical material, likely vacuum rated but with no tags saying so explicitly. It had no date and time labels slapped on it so likely it was not organs or specimens, but it was valuable enough to have a separate lock that was shrink wrapped in an anti-tamper sleeve. Then there were the usual pouches of companies' private mail with documents and memory modules. Lastly there was standby freight carried on an as-able basis for bigger shippers. One net bag of small boxes for UPS, a single small envelope for Larkin's Lunar Lines and a freebie part delivery for Dave's, the maintenance company that serviced the Eddie's Rascal. All this was dumped in one big fine mesh bag.

Eddie's Rascal was sister ship to the lost first-of-class Home Boy. The next ships by Dave's would be a different class and named to make that clear. The Eddie's Rascal had Singh gravitational compensators installed for the four couches. There was a roll-cage-like frame around each seat with the housings for the active nodes swinging down out of the way from in front of the two front pilot's couches when not in use. The six bell shaped vessels were piped to the hard vacuum necessary for their function. The containers were also ballistic protection for the pilots in case one of the Singh fluid containing donuts inside burst under the stress of its peak 140,000 rpm operating speed.

The attraction from the six nodes could effectively counteract five Gs of acceleration, allowing the ship to boost at a maximum fourteen G with an experienced acceleration of nine G ignoring tidal variations. There wasn't room to lay flat so past four G you had to put your feet up in stirrups. When the next class of ship came into service they'd have a maximum authorized acceleration of eighteen G.

The top of the cabin was domed to host a Singe Projector weapon, but it was waiting on the scarce fluid to fill the mechanism, so it was not installed yet to reduce weight.

"Do you want to stand guard or make deliveries?" Edwards asked Waldecker as Click got a collar assigned and started moving them in.

"I've only been on ISSII once," the new hire reminded him. "It's still interesting to me. Why don't I do the deliveries and I'll bring us back some lunch? You have a taste for anything in particular?

"There's place near spin called Pockets. Get me a bag of empañadas, the ones with meat, scrambled egg and raisins and something sweet. I'm happy with our own coffee."

"Sounds good. I should be back in a bit under an hour. How about you Click?"

"Nah," the pilot called from the front. "I'm coming along behind you. I want to do some quick shopping and I'll grab something by myself."

The ship gave a small lurch and the solid sound of the grapples snuggling it tight against the docking collar sounded normal. A couple red and orange lights beside the coffin lock turned green and Click verbally confirmed, "Down and locked. Check seal and confirm vacuum tight on the way out."

Edwards rigged a privacy screen that could be pushed through but hid all interior details from prying eyes.

Waldecker undid the straps holding their hand delivery cargo and maneuvered it to the screen. It was a big bag - Santa Claus sized. He checked that Edwards had clipped himself in opposite the lock and had his weapon of choice to hand. Some were happy with a pistol guarding the lock. The company figured whatever you were comfortable with was best for you. Edwards favored a 30mm grenade launcher with a powered rotary magazine. If it seemed excessive nobody had expressed that to Edwards in his hearing. Waldecker, being new, was taking his clues from everyone else. He was curious though.

"What does that thing shoot anyhow?" he finally worked up nerve to ask.

"It has a twenty-four round magazine, selectable between two rows. I put one round of tungsten flechettes up the snout, then load the primary front row with the same. The second row is selected by this side lever," he demonstrated rolling it over working it with his thumb. "The secondary selection has standard antipersonnel grenades with high explosive bursting charges alternated with shaped charges. They are only good for about twenty centimeters of conventional armor, but they will bust the crap out of heavy machinery housings. Just in case I ever have need, I carry two of these," he reached across and pulled two olive green rounds with yellow lettering from his external breast pocket. "A couple small breaching thermobaric rounds. They are useless in vacuum, but put one into a sealed compartment wall or ship cabin and it will kill everything inside and usually burst the walls open too."

"No shit. Well I hope I'm well behind you if you ever open up with that sucker."

"Haven't had to yet," Edwards smiled. He flipped his faceplate down and checked the seal by lifting with his thumb under the front catch. It was tight.

Waldecker hesitated. His faceplate was up and he hadn't intended to close it being docked on a pressurized mast. Edwards hadn't been on his case at all despite being new and younger. It didn't appear he was going to order him to lock his faceplate down to exit either, yet he was doing so himself. He wasn't used to somebody who led by example instead of decree.

"Why do you seal up Edwards?" he asked.

"Well, Tommy me boy," the voice came through his helmet speaker, "the mast is supposed to be pressurized. But we don't have an external pressure gauge on the lock. And if it gets vented the pressure goes down awfully fast. I can't use my weapon and close my faceplate at the same time. I guess I'm just a belt and suspenders sort of guy," he admitted with a grin.

Waldecker nodded a thanks and after considering the merits of his advice closed his too, Edwards didn't comment on that, simply smiling after him as he slipped through the ribbons of the privacy curtain towing his bag.

"Captain, am I clear to crack the outer door?" he asked on com.

"Go ahead Tommy. Local Control acknowledges we are docked and the clock is running." The fees at ISSII ran by the hour and tenth of an hour, so people did their business and left, not letting their ship parked on a collar like they would have at a station that charged dockage rates by the day. At least private vessels like theirs didn't hang around running up fees, even if the government owned vessels lingered burning up tax money.

"Opening," he announced and slid their outer door to the side and fastened it down. He turned the recessed handle that undogged the exposed station hatch. It actually popped open a little with a soft sound when he pushed on it because of a slight positive pressure in the ship. His suit puffed a little and his ears had that funny feeling from a small drop in pressure until he swallowed a few times. Then he heard a sigh as the pressure came back to his setting. He backed out of the ship, bag in one hand, pulled their security camera out on an arm for Edwards and pulled the hatch back against resistance until he heard it latch. If something happened that pressure dropped in the mast, all the pressure hatches would snap shut.

"Don't forget to bring some sauce," Edwards reminded him. "I like the green stuff."

"Salsa verde," he agreed. The camera was already doing a slow scan as Edwards surveyed the mast from inside. "I like it better than the red stuff too." He gave the net sack a little shove towards the hub and spin, following after with his gloved hand floating around the rail ready to brake or give occasional little tugs. Every hatch seemed to be occupied, although not all of them were open. There were two crew of another ship in flight suits coming out the opposite hand rail, but nobody on his side going in station.

The mast was simply a long tube a bit under three meters across. They were docked halfway down, about eighty meters. So he'd reach the station proper, the end cap that didn't rotate, in about two minutes. Docking collars were spaced on opposite sides and the hand rails ninety degrees from the hatches. Behind the rails, wiring and pipe runs were bare without any decorative effort to hide the industrial clutter. Every couple meters a lighting module filled the inside with a bluish tinted glow. There were no view ports to let in sunlight.

There was a sudden odd noise, loud even in his sealed suit, that dropped off quickly and a disorienting sensation Tommy didn't understand. The hand rail trembled under his grip not a neat ringing harmonic of a single tap but the rough grinding of something tearing. He abruptly started going the wrong way, the rail feeding out through his hand and the net bag coming back to impact on his chest. The immediate false sensation was that the tube was moving under him.  One arm went around the bag and he clamped down with his hand until the glove squealed on the metal, but the rail just kept feeding through his hand although he was clamping on it as hard as he could.

He threw both legs around it and came to a jarring halt when his ankles jammed hard into the next stanchion that held the rail off the mast wall. The off center bag spun him around against the wall, but he managed to get his elbow folded over the rail and held on to it. The sharp crack to his ankles smarted, but he could tell it was just a bruise not the sort of pain that signaled broken bones. Ignoring it he clipped a line on the bag, irritated with himself that he hadn't before and then got a foot up on the rail stand-off he'd slid against.

The flow of air that had sucked him back the wrong way ended almost as abruptly as it started so he was weightlessly floating again, held between his foot on the stand-off post and left arm with nothing tugging either way. He let go of the bag now that he had it on a tether and turned to look back down the narrow mast. The detail in the distance was hard to see, the more so because the raw glare of sunlight flooded in a opening that shouldn't be there. Loose flecks of debris such as paint chips and dust sucked loose from the corners and crevices by the air rushing out tumbled in the vacuum. The distance to the sunlight was about right for the Eddie's Rascal . The two in ship suits who he'd passed going the other way flashed back past him pulling hard hand over hand down the opposite rail. They hesitated about as much as a couple salmon swimming up a river home and didn't spare a glance at him or tarry in their headlong dash.

He did hesitate for just a heartbeat what to do. He called on com and there was no answer. What would Click tell him his job was at the moment? That was clearly to deliver the freight he had in his possession. The ship was Click's responsibility to command and Edward's responsibility to guard and the bag was clearly his. So, reassured in his own mind of his duty he pushed off again for the station. The end of the mast would have sealed, but there was an airlock to the side of the emergency drop seal. Once he was safely in pressure somebody would know what had happened.

He heard Edwards call on com, a short transmission and unclear. When he called himself again but there was no answer. It was frustrating.

* * *

Edwards was thinking about an upcoming poker tournament when he was jerked forward doubled over his safety harness. Without it he would have been thrown through the airlock opposite him, if not by the force of the motion then by the air. The privacy curtain was carried away by the gale that emptied the ship in a single burp. When he straightened back up he still had his weapon in hand not on its tether, which was a source of considerable pride.

The downside tempering that was that the view out the lock was of the open port on the station boom receding and rolling out of sight. The station hatch was obviously disabled from closing. Around the opening were the large black shapes of troops in armored spacesuits, so this was no accident, it was an attack. As he watched one flexed his legs and jumped toward the receding Eddie's Rascal before the boom rolled out of sight and the open lock only showed stars spinning past. The jump would just augment his suit jets and Edwards was sure he's see the fellow much closer to the lock when he completed a full roll. That was going to take near a full minute, he guessed.

"Click, who are they?" he called on com but there was no answer. A glance to the front of the cabin showed an arm dangling loose from the command chair. That told him enough. Dead or unconscious, it didn't matter, because this had to be dealt with now.

Edwards expected the roll to continue on around until the station came into sight again, but instead was surprised when a big space ship rolled into view. It floated not two hundred meters away with the black maw of a cargo hold gapping open towards them. The opening had more black combat suits around it, some on lines, just as the station boom had. That's when he realized it wasn't just an attack, it was a capture mission. He started to lift the grenade launcher but the spin took the ship out of sight before he could get it to his shoulder.

Okay, next time around he'd have an ugly surprise for them. He cracked the weapon open and slid one of the thermobaric rounds in the weapon. He braced himself and tugged the harness tight on his middle, taking a shooting stance waiting for the ship to come back into sight. He even had time to turn the dot on his holosight all the way bright so he could see it against the bright white ship. Several bumps felt through the ship announced he had boarders on the outside of the hull.

Mid-turn a figure in black armor slid into view catching the edge of the lock with both feet as the edge rolled into him. He absorbed the motion nicely in a squat and pivoted in with his back jets, a short weapon clutched tight across his chest.

There was no time to change rounds. Edwards fired at his belly point blank and blew him out of the lock. When he was a meter outside the secondary charge ignited and it blew all four limbs and the helmet off sprouting white fire. The jets of erupting gas and flying suit pieces tumbled the two soldiers closely following him away from their landing in the lock. Edwards snapped off a couple quick loads of flechettes at them. Not all of the suits were thickly armored and he might get lucky and puncture them somewhere.

It was time for the ship to come into view again and he simply flipped the lever down to choose explosive rounds and shaped charges. If he tried to load his second thermobaric round he'd probably miss his second chance at the ship. One thing he knew for sure from the first view. The ship was marked with a big red star. It was Chinese.

"Click?" he tried on com again. No answer.

The ship rolled into view again. It was visibly closer and Edwards led it, aiming at the edge to allow for his roll. He pumped four rounds into it, trying for the flight deck, before it rolled out of sight. Two rounds he saw explode on contact and at least one shaped charge went home because he saw debris erupt from the far side.

"Click, Click can you hear me?" he called. "They are capturing us. You need to set the charges!" There was no reply and Click's arm still hung loose. Then he saw the helmet floating loose and knew he was alone. The keys to setting off the destruct charges were forward in the two flight stations. They might as well be back on Home for all of his chances of getting to them. They'd never thought to put one back by the lock.

When the opening came around toward the station side again there were three suited soldiers waiting for him. Not attempting to enter the lock again they were holding position waiting to fire on him. He fired for the center one and saw the flash as an explosive round caught him in the crotch and blew both legs off. The shrapnel had to have holed the others too. It didn't appear to have a major effect though, the muzzles of the other two soldiers lighting up with bright flares. They both got one short burst off before it rolled them away from the recoil.

One cut across his chest, absorbed by his armor, but one round went through his left arm above the elbow, but lacked the shock of a bone hit. The second burst caught him in both knees and he screamed in pain and felt the hot flood of his own urine as his bladder emptied. There was a >FWOMP< of seals inflating above his knees, cutting off the loss of air and hopefully compressing the leg enough to stop the bleeding too. His ears and eyeballs both ached from the sudden pressure drop and rebound as his suit valve roared full open.

The ship jerked under him and the stars outside the lock slowed and then stopped. They had thruster packs on the hull and weren't going to give him another shot at their ship.

No way he'd ever make it to the controls to arm the charges. At least he could damage the compensators they carried. He aimed at the housings around the coaches and fired. The shrapnel from his own rounds exploding just three meters away peppered him, stinging and he heard multiple whistle tones of escaping air. It didn't matter anymore, he was a dead man anyway. He carefully aimed and caught another housing with a shaped charge. It gutted it end to end shredding the torus and housing. He'd just pumped the fifth round into the machinery and the escaped silvery quantum fluid was a mass of BB sized droplets filling the cabin when a Chinese soldier rolled over the lock edge and shot a burst almost point blank into his helmet.

* * *

"Local control  M3, this is local control ISSII. We have an, uh, a situation here."

"Non-standard I take it ISSII?"

"Uh, very. Your Home registered vessel, the armed merchant Eddie's Rascal is in, uh, some distress."

"This is the shift supervisor for M3. Would you please quit fumbling about and state clearly what the problem is? You are certainly in a much better position given your proximity to render aid. What's wrong and what do you want us to do?"

"Report it to someone, I guess. The owner, or whatever, uh, authorities would care. The Chinese had a ship lingering at dock. The Time of Tranquility. When your boys docked they shoved off and busted the Eddie's Rascal off the mast by blowing the grapple points. Our mast is blown and there is quite a bit of debris and, uh, dead bodies and suit parts from the fighting. They stuffed the Eddie's Rascal in their hold and left."

"ISSII, do you have any of our personnel there, dead or alive?"

"No, no, the Chinese took them away in Eddie's Rascal. They abandoned a crowd of suited soldiers, three dead Chinese in armored suits and enough loose parts for two or three more. Kind of hard to tell they have been blown to hell so thoroughly."

"Yes, that sounds like our Mr. Edwards," he acknowledged calling the crew roster up. "Can you tell us if they seem to intend an Earth landing?"

"No way! The Time was heavily damaged. On our camera feed you can see the flight cabin is depressurized because the ports are blown out. There are some pretty big holes in her. No way are they going to take that ship in atmosphere without it breaking up, but they did break orbit with us and move off. Main thing we wanted to say is we didn't have anything to do with it! Last time you and the Chinese mixed it up here the Happy Lewis burned the shit out of our yard tractor and cut all the antennas and radar off the station. We just don't want a mix up and get hit again."

"I'll inform our militia Captain and the owners. With particular emphasis on your innocence," he said dryly. "Is there anything else ISSII?"

"Yeah, correction on the personnel. Sorry, I'm kind of shook up. My number two reminds me the guy doing the freight transfer, Tom Waldecker, was on station when they got hijacked. We saw him on an internal boom camera and security is on their way down there now to assist him and arrest some of the Chinese loose in the area. Guess he's going to need repatriated unless he just takes a commercial shuttle home. Let his boss know he's here and okay, will you?"

"Roger that, ISII, I'll do a conference call, would you hold for any questions please?"

"M3 Local Control, conference call add, Jon Davis, Home Militia, Dave, Dave's Spacecraft Services, Eddie Persico, Lewis Couriers and Jeff Singh, Singh Technologies," he instructed his com. The screen split in panes that all filled rapidly. The first few, seeing empty panes, waited for them to fill. In twenty seconds Dave came on last and they had a full call board. M3 Local Control described the situation with economy to them.

"ISSII, Since it is a Home registered vessel. I'm making an official request of information for Home Militia," Jon Davis told them. "I'd like a copy of your external camera feed of the event. I also need navigational data on where this Chinese ship is going. I have a warning going out right now to all militia members to avoid similar attacks at dock, a weapons free order on the Chinese ship and an alert that further data will be following. I plan on sending all of them the full visual feed and orbital data."

"They always monitor our feed, but I'll officially bounce that request up to Earth Control and my supervisors," the worried looking fellow on ISSII replied.

"You are either against piracy or you are aiding it," Jon explained patiently. "Neutrality as a docking host is unacceptable. If we don't have the data quickly we will consider you a party to the attack. I believe that was what you wanted to avoid?"

"I don't have authority to release station recordings," the controller protested.

"Ask them if you can scratch your butt while you're at it," Jon mocked him.

"I have other interested parties watching my feed," Jeff announced. He'd brought in April and Happy Lewis. Dave was sharing the call with his shop unannounced.

"Earth Control asks to be brought in the call," ISSII requested. A window opened.

"ISSII you do not need authorization to release video of public spaces," Earth Control told him visibly irritated. "It is available real time on several stations and even web cast for the space nuts to view. Just because it is recordings instead of the live feed is irrelevant. I suggest you let the man see who killed his ship before he concludes you wish to cover it up."

"Let's have a look at that feed then before any more discussion," Jon requested. "It can't hurt to see what we are talking about first hand."

The camera view that came up was off the mid-boom, high quality, with the sun just outside the camera angle so the glare was tolerable. Most of the last half of the boom was visible with the Eddie's Rascal the second ship down from the camera and two ships beyond it.

The Chinese ship came into view from the other side of the boom. It took up station over the Eddie's Rascal with good crisp ship handling. There was a minimum of maneuvers and corrections with no hesitation between them. The hold of the Moment of Tranquility was already open and a swarm of armored suits erupted as soon as it took up station.

Jon noted none of the soldiers landed directly on the Eddie's Rascal. They all landed on the boom or braked to a halt without making noise against her hull. Bright flashes filled the shadows between ship and boom as the charges cut the ship off her docking grapples. They only needed five or six seconds to place the demo and jump clear. It was choreographed nicely.

The ship hesitated, then came off the boom crooked, rolling slowly, pieces of seal dangling where they were ripped free from the port. The air rushing from both boom and ship seemed to push them apart more than the explosives. The boom actually bent in an arch away from the ship and then rebounded. A cloud of ice fog marked the loss of air from the open locks and dissipated rapidly. Several suited figures dove on the drifting rolling ship to attach thruster packs to the hull and get its motion under control.

Boarding parties didn't even wait for the roll to be controlled. They formed up in groups of three, taking on delta formations. A couple lone soldiers pursued the ship from the boom and several jumped from the Chinese ship with lines to attach and draw her into their hold.

The first group of three approached the Eddie's Rascal opposite it's drift aimed at a tangent  to the outside of the hull. They must have had coaching from another viewpoint because the fellow in the lead kept making little adjustments to his speed, slowing down. It was a masterful piece of suit work, the open lock coming around just as his boots reached the tangent point and he landed in the lock opening. He squatted, knees absorbing the difference in velocity and back jets puffing briefly to push him in the opening instead of being flung back out by the spin.

Something went wrong though and he came flying back out of the opening arms and legs stretched in front of him in comic exaggeration by some sort of impact. He was not much more than a meter outside when his helmet and all four limbs blew off with a white glare that overloaded the camera.

"Holy shit, what did he get hit with?" The Earth controller asked before thinking. Nobody answered him, all still intent on the video. The two other members of his triad tumbled out of control from the near explosion, unable to catch the edge as neatly as their leader.

As the open lock turned out of view from the camera there was a bright flash inside the control deck of the Chinese ship that lit it's view ports just before they shattered. No surface hole was visible, but a shaped charge caught the pressure tank for the flight crew oxygen and burst it. A big cloud of debris flew out the opposite side of the ship, all sparkly in the sunlight. Another round exploded on contact cratering the hull covering a space plane like this needed to enter atmosphere. The next shaped charge passed right through the ship, not finding anything substantial enough to detonate it. The last explosive round fell further back entering the open lock and impacting one of the suited technicians waiting to secure the Eddie's Rascal right between the shoulder blades on his tanks. The flare lit up the dark opening for an instant and then an assortment of suit parts and debris came out of the dark opening.

"Nope, that ship is not going to land anywhere without major repairs," Dave agreed.

Another set of three soldiers formed up near the Eddie's Rascal  and little points of light marked the hull as thrusters slowed its spin. The middle suit erupted with an intense light that blew his legs off. The other two poured fire into the open lock, but got none of the explosive rounds back. Instead the dome over the flight seats erupted with repeated fire, chunks of hull peeling back and pieces of machinery and a silvery cloud of metallic fluid expanding from repeated explosions. The Eddie's Rascal stopped rolling, under control now and one by one four soldiers cautiously pulled themselves through the open lock and disappeared inside.

Eddie's Rascal was pulled into the hold with what looked like unnaturally slow deliberation to Earth eyes, but was actually reckless haste for safely moving something massive and weightless by hand. When the two ships actually touched it was with enough force to see the big Chinese ship move from the bump. Under normal conditions that was criminal negligence. Given the damage she carried from Edward's fire it probably didn't matter, unless any of the technicians were unlucky enough to get caught under her in the tight fitting hold.

The armored soldiers started coming back to the station boom. Each stopping and undergoing some brief procedure at the open hold.

"What are they doing?" Jeff wanted to know.

"I think Edwards took out their cabin Oxy so they are all stripping their suit tanks off for the pilot. That means they have about fifteen minutes of suit air, closer to ten maybe being so active, to get in the boom and through the airlock on the cap end."

"Can they make it?"

"Depends on how many they can fit in the lock and how fast they can cycle," Dave explained. As head of a repair company he was their expert on mechanical systems. "An emergency lock like that they can emergency purge instead of pump down if the last few are running really low on oxy. So yeah, they can all make it if they are familiar with the lock and how to override the pump cycle."

As they watched the Chinese ship rotated on thrusters, more junk was flung out of the still open hold and flight deck windows by the motion. When it was realigned it did about a twenty second initial burn and slowly slid off behind as it fell away into a lower orbit.

* * *

Waldecker reached the airlock on the end of the boom well behind the two from another ship who had rushed ahead of him. That was fine because it was only a two man lock and they both filled it. His bag was so big it would be a squeeze to cycle it and him together. The others had already exited the lock and were pumping it down for him when he got there. The pressure curtain had sealed the normal corridor access off cleanly and didn't seem bulged or leaking. With damage this bad the station maintenance would lay some panels and sticky blankets over the inside of the curtain to secure it until repairs were done.

"Click, Click can you hear me?" he heard Edwards say as clear as could be. "They are capturing us. You need to set the charges!" When he called the ship had rolled away, the hull cutting off his reply.

The lock display said a minute twenty seconds to end of pump down. Tom rolled on his one handed grip of the take hold beside the lock hatch and looked back down the boom. There were figures in black armored suits inside the open hatch where the Eddie's Rascal had docked. That wasn't rescue gear. In fact now he saw they had weapons too. This wasn't any sort of accident. A capture, Edwards had said. They might be after him too. Two were helping another of their own who seemed to be limp and not moving. Then the danger of the situation hit him when one of them raised his arm and pointed down the boom to where he was hanging by the lock. Two left the one pointing and started down the rail with the limp fellow between them, awkward but accelerating.

It was eighty meters and they had the one fellow slowing them down, but a glance at the readout said he had fifty seconds before the hatch would open. By then they would be close enough to rush him before the hatch could close. They might even risk a single careful shot into the lock to stop him. That would be insanity with the only safe pressure behind him, but this whole thing was already insane.

The large yellow square said "Emergency Fast Cycle". He made sure the bag was behind him away from the hatch and punched it. The hatch popped open with a slight push of air against him but no sound. He swung the bag ahead of him and scrambled in the lock. The two approaching let the one between them coast and sprinted ahead hand over hand. Something looked odd about them. He slammed the hatch home and hit the same Yellow command square. Air flooded the lock so suddenly his suit went limp in a heartbeat. He was reaching around his bundle already, leaning hard in the inside hatch release when the pressure equalized and spilled him into the station.

The two crew who just cycled through were waiting for him. The insignia on their suits said they were United Kingdom crew.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" The older fellow with his faceplate up demanded. He was angry rather than frightened and the stereotypical British cursing made Waldecker laugh which just made the fellow angrier. It was shear hysteria and he couldn't control it.

"It's the damned Chinese," his buddy said eyeball to the small sight hole on the hatch, "and they've got guns too." he informed his mate looking back at them, eyes going to Waldecker's holstered weapon disapprovingly.

"They blew our ship off the boom!" Waldecker exclaimed. It was an anguished cry because he'd finally added everything up in his mind. "On com my crew said they were being captured."

"Can you dog this hatch?" he asked looking to see some way to stop them coming through. The manual handles had been designed specifically to avoid accidental jams. There were no projections or recesses to wedge a bar or block.

"Let me see," he demanded, leaning in to look through the tiny glass in the hatch center. The British fellow leaned back readily, looking askance at him. One of the Chinese was already in the lock, back to him and pulling on the unconscious one as his partner outside shoved him in the lock. He suddenly realized what looked odd about him. There was no air tank hanging on his back anywhere. Just a bright clump of brass fittings and regulator housings below his neck where they should hang. The outside hatch swung shut as he watched.

With no way to physically bar the hatch the only thing left was the control box and screen. The power should feed through from the station side if he could only stop it. Waldecker unholstered his pistol to both of the other men's alarm and wildly smashed at the housing with a screen and pad. Three hard strokes smashed the screen and had pieces of circuit board floating loose around them. He reholstered his pistol and reached in double handed and grabbed wires, ripping them loose with hysterical strength. Only the suit gloves kept him from injury.

"Here now!" the older fellow objected. "Do you really want to piss off these fellows? When they finally do cycle through you are likely going to have to deal with them anyway, right? And I expect station security will be along momentarily. Wouldn't it be better to calm down and look more reasoned and composed than the other fellows if you are in the right? Security is hardly going to appreciate you vandalizing station equipment. Why prejudice them against you?"

"I don't want to piss them off," Waldecker snarled at him. "I'm going to kill them. This isn't some dock rats stealing freight or something. It's soldiers and war we're talking now."

"Easy buddy boy. Nobody wants to talk about war with the Chinese. There are simply too many of the silly buggers. You could kill a billion and still have a problem."

Eye back to the peephole, Waldecker saw the Chinese who was mobile had the emergency panel open and was reading the instructions for using the manual controls to open the lock.

The English fellows didn't have a clue what was happening when he tore open his patch kit at his waist and put a sticky patch in his left hand. He checked the soldier's position again through the glass and drew his pistol without hesitation sticking it against the hatch and fired.

It sounded more like hitting the hatch with a hammer than a pistol shot. The pistol recoiled off the hatch less than a hand's breadth and a few spalled fragments peeled off the bullet rapped the walls around them, but nobody called out that they were hit. He slide the weapon back in his holster, ripped the film off the peel-and-stick patch and covered his dimpled bullet hole. He looked back at the English quickly, scared they might try to grab him and disarm him. Nothing was further from their minds. They both had drawn back horrified.

Back at the glass he looked in the lock. He could see the black suit close to the glass moving slowly like a drift, not purposeful motion, but nothing beyond, as it cut off the view. A couple dark marble sized balls of blood floated by and the suit stopped moving just inches from the glass. There was pounding, not from inside the lock, but faintly from the boom beyond. After maybe two minutes he was sure there was no motion and backed off the glass and started shaking. There was one more frantic round of distant pounding then none. He was still coming off the adrenaline high and shivering when station security arrived.

* * *

The controller at ISSII looked more concerned than frightened. He muted his audio and was talking excitedly with someone. They all stopped talking anticipating something from him even before he came back.

"Security has arrived at the emergency lock for the boom," the ISSII controller announced. "They tell us all the Chinese soldiers were unable to gain access to the station and are trapped in the boom. Security is dispatching an ambulance to the boom, but ETA is three minutes and it appears all of them stripped their suit tanks off when they abandoned the Tranquility. Some of the first to surrender their tanks and jump for the station are past the twelve minute mark. It's doubtful they can still be conscious and the ambulance will arrive right at the limit for saving even the late comers."

"What's the problem with the lock?" Dave asked them. "Did it get damaged in the decompression?"

"The problem is the crewman from Eddie's Rascal, your Mr. Waldecker, regarded the Chinese as a continuing threat. He insists they were armed and pursuing him after assaulting his crewmen, so he bottled the first two in the lock by smashing the controls and then shot them through the hatch before they could work the manual valves and pressurize it."

"Well, one certainly could see his point," Jon allowed. "All the evidence before his eyes was they were intent on theft and kidnapping, if not outright murder. I don't think I'd have let them follow me through that lock either if they were still armed. I'd ask you to allow us to take custody of our citizen so we can determine if there was a crime or if it was self defense."

"He insists it's war," the controller said. "I don't know if he can speak for Home, but he's used the word several times."

"The full electorate has to declare war for Home," Jeff jumped in quickly to explain. "However we have a different system here. There is nothing in our law keeping Thomas Waldecker from unilaterally declaring war on the People's Republic of China. The nation has not taken that right from the sovereign people. And there are no restrictions on arms so the right has - bite," he said with a unfriendly smile. "He may simply be distraught, but when he has had time to compose himself from his shock you might ask him if that is his considered intent."

"That's crazy. What can one person do against a huge country?" The face of the Earthside controller said he agreed, but he didn't comment.

"I'm not sure," Jeff allowed. "I may find out however, if the Chinese do not release the Eddie's Rascal I may have no other choice myself. Earthside Control, could you bring in whatever agency is your liaison to the Chinese government?"

"I have a line to the CAAC. They are what you'd think of as China Local. They control all air traffic and anything coming sub-orbital. I'm bringing him in."

Another window opened. There were so many open now the display switched to enlarging whichever one was actively speaking. The person answering was in a suit and without spex or even earphones, but behind him were active controllers at work stations.

"CAAC - Central, how may I help you," he asked visibly perplexed at the crowd on his screen.

"Earth Control here. We have a contact request involving the heavenly vessel The Moment of Tranquility. The other on screen are local controllers and the owners of Eddie's Rascal  which is involved with The Tranquility."

A hand went out to an unseen keyboard below the camera view. "The Tranquility is an Army vessel. The CAAC does not direct military vessels. They tell us where they shall move and we direct civilian traffic to yield to them. I suggest you contact The People's Army for anything involving her."

"Do you have a contact person for the Army?" Earth Local asked.

"Certainly," he dropped a text box on the Earth Control screen and dropped out of the circuit before he could be asked to stay.

"Home, we have a report from ISSII security. The ambulance says there is one survivor among the Chinese. They are standing off waiting for security to arrive, because he pointed his weapon at them when they approached, so they fear for their safety. They can't get past him to check for survivors inside the boom. A count from the camera of those entering was seventeen however."

"Hey ISSII, still think our boy was delusional to think the Chinese a threat?" Jon asked.

"That is strange to threaten an ambulance with lights and rescue symbols," he admitted.

"Strange? It's frigging nuts."

"Why don't I contact this address the CAAC left us?" Earth Local suggested. "I don't want to click on it and have them come in to the middle of a discussion between us they wouldn't understand. Are you gentlemen ready to address him instead of each other?"

"Yeah, I can talk to ISSII later," Jon agreed. ISSII just Earth-nodded an agreement.

The officer was older than they were used to seeing with Life Extension Therapy so common now. He had a perfect poker face and enough medals on his jacket that they should have tipped him on his face from the weight.

"Sir, I'm Jonathan Gilmore of Earth Control who is affiliated with your CAAC. We were directed to take any questions about Chinese military traffic to you." The fellow didn't offer his identity in return. The older gentleman just barely dipped his head in acknowledgment.

"Which of you wants to speak for Home?" Gilmore asked the assembly.

"I speak for myself," Jeff informed him. "Jon can speak for Home Militia if he wishes. Sir, your vessel The Moment of Tranquility has taken my associate's vessel Eddie's Rascal on board by force of arms and removed it from the Second International Space Station. It contains proprietary technology that I'm unwilling to share and I must insist it be released in Earth orbit for us to recover or I will have to commit to its destruction."

"Yes, I'm aware of the seizure. The People have an interest in this technology because it was developed by the infamous Dr. Nam-Kha. She has illegally removed herself and thus stolen the benefit of her education from the People. This is merely a start to setting matters right. The full resolution of the matter will only be fully satisfactory when she is apprehended and sentenced to reeducation and some service of restitution to the people for her errors. You will not be permitted to interfere with its recovery." The delivery was dead-pan.

"She is my step-mum. I will show her an exact recording of your words," Jeff promised. "I'm sorry you reject my request. There will be bloodshed and treasure ruined for no reason now.  If you refuse I will make war upon the People's Republic to at least the extent needed to remove the Eddie's Rascal from your hands."

"You are a young fool," the officer said with the slightest smile. "Do you have anything to say to me?" he asked Jon by simply looking directly at him with the same mocking smile. The software read his gaze and directed it properly. Nobody had introduced Jon. The man obviously knew him already.

"No, it seems Mr. Singh feels he can settle his own disputes. I doubt that my fellow citizens would appreciate me involving them uninvited."

"With more years you display deeper wisdom," he said. The window closed with no apparent signal on his part.

"Nuts, you are all frigging totally nuts over there," the controller from ISSII swore. "Oh crap," he added and took a deep breath. "ISSII security reports when their scooter arrived where the ambulance was holding position, the surviving Chinese soldier opened his face plate and committed suicide."

"Looks like you have a few nuts over there too," Dave said shaking his head.

Chapter 12

"I have no idea what kind of yield my device has," Jeff explained his dilemma to his mum, upset and unhappy.  "I was going to send one copy and a robot ship around the other side of the sun and test it secretly. I just ran out of time and deployed them. I'd hoped they wouldn't push me like this."

She'd heard the entire story before but patiently listened. He wasn't telling her so much as laying it all out to in front of them to examine again and see if there wasn't some solution they hadn't found before to avoid war.

"What does it really matter?" she asked. "It's big enough to vaporize the Eddie's Rascal if it was a technical dud and only yielded ten kilotons. Their main spaceport is way out in the middle of nowhere in the desert for security. If they're treating us like this cutting their launch capacity down a notch is a good idea. If it turns out to have a ten megaton yield and takes out the whole launch complex good, they asked for it. Maybe they will learn to keep hands off."

"I figured over fifty megaton just from the hydrogen reaction. If you have a cascade of reactions like you thought possible it will be higher."

"So you'll vaporize the target and a few hundred square kilometers of empty dessert instead of fifty. So what?"

"We're putting more surveillance in place and I'll have a tiny, stealthed, geostationary eye above Jiuquan in six hours. That's sooner than they can transfer to a whole ship and drop the Eddie's Rascal from orbit in any case."

"Jeff?"

"Yes mum?"

"You do have some more warheads made up don't you?"

"Four more in reentry vehicles. One reserved for Beijing I think. But what if they are still willing to fight after I drop all five on them?"

"You aren't isolated in their attention boy. Might I remind you it was my defection the official cited as reason for their piracy? I've known it might come down to this before I ever came to M3. I made my own plans to deal with the People's Republic dear. I have an interest here and indeed reserve the right to act independently," she said with an ugly smile.

Jeff just stared at her mouth hanging open. It wasn't what she'd said but the level of anger on her face. She had intimated this before, but not shown such anger. He suddenly closed his mouth and reevaluated his world in depth. There are ways to grow up a little at a time and then there are things that change you wholesale in seconds. This was the latter and he suddenly felt different and much sadder and resigned to the world being foolish beyond his fixing. If China counted them as nothing and had no fear despite his warning it wasn't his job to convince them. Once he actually demonstrated why they should care it would be too late.

"Thank you Mum. I hope they don't push it that far, but I don't have a whole lot of confidence in them doing the right thing."

* * *

"No idea at all where it is?" Jeff asked the traffic controller, Marion. He was also a member of Home's militia, but off duty for anything right now and speaking to Jeff only as a friend. "I queried three hundred and seventeen objects in orbit big enough to harbor the hull or shadow it. That's assuming they didn't cut it in sections or completely dismantle it to take it down in pieces. They could decide to work on the really interesting parts in orbit. We were blind to it behind the Earth for hours. There was no Home registered vessel in line of sight and when the Howard's Line courier returns from Mitsubishi II we'll be blind to the other side for another several hours."

"My Mum assured me they'll take it home. They won't feel it is secure until it is on their territory and they wouldn't let subordinates do something as important as disassembling the ship without lots of political officers to look over their shoulders and keep them honest."

"Then all you can do is watch the East Wind facility in Jiuquan. They could drop it on almost any military airfield with a long enough runway, but that's where all their deep security space work is and the approach over the Gobi desert is secure in case you have a lander go down short. You can keep a real time watch on them using commercial services, or position your own cam. I wouldn't assume they will have to lift a ship to bring it down. They may divert something already up and transfer it."

"Okay, thanks Marion. They must not have tried to open a generator. I wish they had. That would take care of the whole matter. I suspect they know now from the loss of the Home Boy that they are booby trapped. They will cut the generators out and separate them widely to work on each. Probably the same with the compensators until they get at least one open. I want to hit them within minutes of being on the ground before they can disperse the pieces to get open and study. I see no possibility they will back down. If I see them land that ship I'm going to destroy it on the ground to keep the tech from them. They may lump Home in with me and retaliate. If you have people here you might consider evacuating them."

"Why do you expect them to retaliate? Busting your ship up shouldn't be that big a deal to get them all excited."

"It's going to take out everything around the ship too," Jeff explained. At Marion's quizzical look he added. "For quite a distance around it, like maybe the whole base. And if they decide to get pissy about it with me I am prepared to systematically bombard the shit out of the People's Republic of China," he added, plainly.

Louis looked alarmed for the first time. "My wife has folks in Scotland. I think it's a good time for her and the kids to visit. How fast should I get them moving?"

"I'd do it today, tomorrow for sure if there are connections," Jeff admitted. "I guess I better talk to Jon about this too. Other folks might want to evacuate too, wouldn't they?"

"Talk to him and maybe even do an all addy com announcement," Marion suggested.

Jon agreed with Marion. "It's just the correct thing to do to make a public announcement if you feel folks are at risk." He refused to compose it or do it for Jeff however.

April's pad chimed and she was mildly surprised. There were few people who could make her pad do a single chime and they had to specifically tag their message as urgent. When she saw it was a system wide message she was even more alarmed. Anyone could do an all addy broadcast on their net, but people were very good about not abusing it. There had only been two all system broadcasts since the war, one over a missing seven year old and one when an off station visitor turned out to have an active case of nasty drug resistant TB. The screen showed text and she read:

Emergency Hazard Notice for Home issued by Jeff Singh: "As many of you are aware the People's Republic of China has seized the fast courier Eddie's Rascal, owned by Just on Time Services and operated by Lewis Couriers. It is a Home registered vessel and carries proprietary Singh technologies upon which Home depends for its defense."

"The vessel was attacked in surprise by the People's Republic military ship The Moment of Tranquility at the public docking boom of ISSII. Two Home citizens died in the hijacking and an estimated twenty Chinese service members."

"When contacted in protest the Chinese explained the legal theory behind their attack is that their former citizen Nam-Kha Singh has stolen her duty of work to the state and her education by an unauthorized defection and they own both her labor and the products of her labor and they intend to recover both, as well as punish and rehabilitate her. They do not intend to yield."

"It is essential to Home's survival and my personal survival and ability to retain and use my property and intellectual property rights, that the technology in this vessel not be available to the Chinese. I intend to destroy the vessel Eddie's Rascal wherever it is found in near Earth space or on the Earth's surface. I have told China I will wage war upon them to at least the degree needed to accomplish that. Not Home, not the militia, just Jeff Singh. Being private property and not yet officially committed to militia service I'd prefer to respond to this without calling for an Assembly vote or militia aid at this point."

"There may be considerable damage and loss of life associated with the destruction of the Rascal. If the Chinese decide to retaliate broadly against Home rather than just against me personally there is risk for anyone living in Home and thus I was urged by several people to post this public notice."

The notice was copied to most of the news services and all the other habitats in Earth orbit. The next three shuttles leaving home were booked full and a few seats changed ownership at the lock for cash. Within an hour several people called for an Emergency meeting of the Assembly.

The four people formally asking for the Assembly spoke to Mr. Muños briefly and sat near the moderator's table together looking grim. The time had been set between meals and the cafeteria wasn't shut down. There were a handful of folks by the coffee pots just there to catch a sandwich or snack, but eyeballing the free show. Muños didn't build an elevated platform like some previous Assemblies. There was not a huge physical crowd but he expected a good online attendance.

When the set time arrived Muños opened a video site on the local net and asked the four to express their issues.

The older woman looked at the other three and stood up. "My husband and I protest being put at risk by the actions that Jeff Singh publicly says he will take against the Chinese. We did nothing to be associated with him and it isn't fair we should be sitting on a bull's-eye because of things he did we have no control over."

"Might you favor us with your name?" Muños asked.

"I'm Anna Beedle and this is my husband Murphy. I speak for him too."

Mr. Muños stared at his pad frowning. "I did not have a com call from any Beedles asking for an Assembly."

"We're living with my daughter-in-law, Brenda Shindler. I called on her com."

"Are they co-sponsors then?" Muños asked, genuinely puzzled.

"We didn't say anything to them about it. Anytime we try to talk politics with the kids we end up yelling at each other and her husband gets rude about it. We just moved up here and don't have a place of our own yet so we were trying to keep the peace."

"Madam, I do not see any Beedles listed as tax payers. Have you or your husband taken on  Home citizenship?"

"Well, no. We will I assume, but we just got here and I'm not even sure what we have to do to become citizens. But certainly we should have a voice in anything that affects us!"

"The Home site on the local net details in very plain language what you must do to become citizens," Muños explained in a voice suitable for small children. "It is quite possible to register and assume citizenship within the hour of your arrival. I'm afraid that if you are citizens of another nation you have no standing to call an Assembly of Home or to participate in the debate or voting on any issues."

"We're from Canada," she said. "I understand most of you here are from North America."

"Yes, we were from, North America. We are no longer. The distinction seems to elude you."

Ben Patsitsas, the author stood and asked to be recognized. Muños was happy to do so.

"We have two foreign nationals interfering with our internal politics. They have already wasted many man hours of our time. I'd like to put it to a vote to end this farce, instruct them to remove themselves from this danger zone and return to Earth."

"Second the motion, banish the idiots," Paul Sweeny from maintenance said immediately.

"It has been proposed and seconded that the Beedles be banished from Home, how do you people say?" he asked the nation. It was a light vote, but 1,127 for, 6 against.

When the younger couple were invited to present their petition they had a quick whispered conference afraid now of how a similar proposal would be received even from citizens. They decided sentiment was against them and withdrawing any motion and left quickly.

In Environmental the Beedles' mortified son-in-law got somebody to  cover his console so he could hurry home. When his in-laws arrived there shortly thereafter the door code was changed and their luggage was sitting in the corridor. Nobody doubted how he had voted.

* * *

The com was extra shrill just like he's set it and it would get louder each time until he answered it. "Lights up," Jeff said, then added, "medium," after they dazzled him.

"You need to see this," his hired man Louis said and split the screen. "See these back-ups and private vehicles making u-turns?" He circled them on the screen. "They have almost completely shut down the road that run between Jiuquan and the launch center. Very little traffic is getting through and when it gets to the base not all of it is being allowed in there. We have a little car park both inside and outside the base entry and they have accumulated quite a few vehicles being held."

"How far from the town to the port?" Jeff asked, scrunching his nose up trying to remember.

"About a hundred kilometers. It's way out in the Gobi desert."

"Good, if I have to bombard them that should keep casualties down."

Louis was at his office where he had some serious screens and better facilities than his apartment. After his dad got married he moved out of their shared tiny two bedroom so he could remodel it to one bigger bedroom and a second closet for Nam-Kha. The new place was hardly more than a hot slot, but he'd tried sleeping at his office and found he couldn't stop working if everything was just a few steps away.

"I'm going to come up there. Do I have time to take a shower?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, I don't think anything is happening that fast, maybe in a few hours, but I have other stuff to show you too."

"Okay, make a fresh pot of coffee in about fifteen minutes and I'll be there soon." He stumbled in the shower and cleaned up, but kept telling it cooler until it was waking him up. Should he wake April or Heather? Somehow he didn't think they'd appreciate getting up in the middle of the night. Would they land during his night just to make it difficult for him to react? No, surely that was being too paranoid. They'd land it just as soon as they could do so safely.

He dressed in comfortable loose clothing, in case he had to stay at it a long time. The corridor was almost empty on the back shift. The Hazard Notice he'd posted to the local net was released to Earth news agencies too, but he had his doubts any of them would feature it. A search returned one story on a site that specialized in man bites dog sort of bizarre news features.

It framed the story as a single man declares war on the largest nation on Earth. It was illustrated with a line drawing of a shabby looking fellow with a lance on a horse facing a windmill. He didn't get the reference at all. The firm implication was he was a mentally deranged person and implied that wasn't uncommon among spacers. It suggested that was a natural consequence of their isolation. He refused to let it irk him. He needed a level head and not to be carried away with anger to deal with this.

When he palmed the door and entered his offices Louis was talking with Happy. He hadn't expected him to be here. He was dressed in one of those Aloha shirts and had a mug of coffee.

"What brings you out in the middle of the night?' Jeff asked.

"I was out late at a poker game. I know things are about to break with China so I came by here to check before going to bed. I'd really like to stay if you don't mind. I won't be jogging your elbow unwanted. You know the defensive crew on the Rock and the Militia are on a little higher state of alert?"

"That makes sense," Jeff admitted. "I'd rather not suck them into this, but I fear it won't be my choice. You're welcome to stay. I might need some advice even." He had his coffee now, so he told Louis, "Okay. Show me this other stuff."

"Besides the base being cut off there are some internal changes too. Down here at the end of their long runway there are a couple hangar buildings that are cut off from the surrounding area today. See these two buildings?" he drew a yellow line around two large square hangars. "They have guards not just at the doors but at each corner suddenly. It looks now like they are sandbagging a temporary emplacement at each corner. And the open tarmac between all the surrounding hangars is cut off with a light armored vehicle or two," he pointed out one by one in a ring around the center buildings.

"You think they are going to bring the Rascal into one of those and start taking her apart?"

"Seems like a real possibility. I mean, unless somebody rented it for Homecoming. What do you see here?" Louis asked and highlighted an odd angular object a good kilometer away.

"I have no idea. You'll have to tell me what it is."

"A mobile air defense unit. They moved these puppies in about four hours ago and set them up at the compass points around the hanger. They have short range ballistic intercept capabilities too. That seems like a bit of overkill. They already have two permanent systems protecting the base. So if you are going to shoot at those hangars, be aware of how well they're protected."

"Thank you. I rather anticipated that," Jeff admitted. "I've had some additional weapons made in the last few days, beside all the dumb rods I've been accumulating. I have a strategy formulated. We'll get to see soon if it works I'd say," nodding at the screen.

Nothing much happened for several hours. There was some concealed placement of heavy main battle tanks at the kilometer radius. He couldn't see the rationale for that. Home had no Earth shuttle capacity. They were not going to drop some rapid reaction force on the base and take the Rascal back. Not that that wouldn't be a nice capacity to have. He wondered about it aloud.

It was so much later that Louis replied he'd shifted gears mentally and he didn't connect what the man said at first to his question.

"The Chinese don't expect us to drop a force. They can't possibly think that any of our allies have the ability, much less the will to project that kind of force in the middle of the Gobi desert far from any coast or border that would afford safety in retreat. No, I have to say that the heavy security says there are untrusted forces known to exist internally. There have to be factions who would snatch such a prize in their own military, because that heavy armor and security perimeter aren't meant to keep out a rabble of irate peasants."  Happy just gave a nod of agreement.

Jeff was impressed. Louis took his time getting to his conclusion, but he'd formulated it and expressed it much better he'd have been able to do himself. He just had no skill at all at putting himself in the shoes of an Earth politician and empathetically feeling what they would do.

He thought a bit about his strategies and issued orders to his rods to bunch up. He didn't do that lightly as they had little fuel for maneuver or station keeping. He just decided he needed to be able to drop big enough groups to force them to reveal all their anti-ballistic launch sites and not let them conduct interceptions from one source until it ran dry.

Towards the start of main shift April called and asked if anything was happening. He told her that activity made them think the base was going to receive the Rascal, likely within the next day, but didn't detail why. It was getting near dawn for the site. He would lose the good infrared images showing even single soldiers soon to the desert heat. But visible light would reveal other things.

April and Heather both showed up with Gunny in tow and forced breakfast upon them. The room was getting crowded and they had to go get extra chairs. After so long with nothing happening he pulled up a CAD file on one screen and did some easy design doodling for the generation of ship that was far from assembly yet, breakfast plate balanced on his free hand so he could take the occasional bite. He didn't see the look that passed between Happy and Gunny. He'd have been surprised they found it unnerving he could turn off his attention to the unfolding drama and work on something relatively mundane. It helped him avoid the building stress.

"Earth Control shows a one line notice relayed by the CAAC from their military about descending traffic for Jiuquan," Louis said.

"Orbital elements?" Jeff asked.

"No, no details. No time frame even. I guess even the Chinese are afraid to dip low over Pakistan or Persia without saying something. Those suckers are trigger happy, but I'd expect them to leave a shuttle alone obviously lined up to land at a Chinese base. They have to see regular traffic down that corridor."

"Yes, everyone sane is scared of China, aren't they?" Jeff asked rhetorically.

There was a funny feeling of motion and Jeff saw his freshly filled coffee cup do something strange. Heather had just refilled it over-full almost spilling it over and as he leaned over to suck a little up without lifting the mug his coffee climbed the last couple millimeters to the edge on  his right and dipped on the left. He just stared at it wondering if it would spill over the edge but it stopped just short of that.

"Did you feel something?" Jeff asked the others.

"I had to take a step because I felt off balance, but I thought it was just me being clumsy," Heather admitted, standing with the coffee pot still in her hand.

Jeff looked around and pointed at the chain April was wearing, the one her brother had left her. "April, let me borrow your neck chain please."

It was an odd request, but April took it off over her head silently. Jeff adjusted one of the small articulated lamps over the desk and tugged down a loop of the wire running up the arm. He undid the lobster clasp on the chain and clipped it on the wire so the other end just missed dragging on the desktop.

He fumbled around in his pocket and got one of the platinum one Solar coins like he's sold April. He positioned that as centrally as he could under the chain. They all were watching it expectantly. Nothing happened for a bit and then the chain slowly swung from the center to near the rim.

"April, you have such a good relationship with Jon. Would you give him a call and ask if Home is experiencing some, uh, acceleration?"

She said nothing, but pulled her pad out and entered a text message. After a very brief pause she laughed and entered more. "He says -  No way could you feel that! – So I told him breakfast slid off the table and the furniture is all against one bulkhead."

The chain stayed at the rim of the coin but started making a slow crawl following the rim.

"They're moving Home," Heather stated the obvious, "but turning us too."

April went back to her com and clicked just a few keys. "I asked him why."

"Ahhh, makes sense," she said shortly. "They are slowing spin and putting us right in front of the Rock, long axis on the orbital path. If anyone shoots at us in a catch up orbit, the easiest shot to plot, it will be in the way."

"You'd think they would tell folks," Heather said, a little miffed.

"I'm sure they told Traffic Control and all the people in suits and scooters," Happy said. "I've had them adjust orbit when I was outside working and they usually give you an hour notice and advice you not to be in the middle of something like aligning a big beam. It's Mitsubishi's habitat. They can move it around if they want to."

"Why reduce spin?" Gunny asked. "You're just as big a target spinning or not."

"If we slow it down then there is less internal stress on everything. Less chance it'll break up if a major spoke is busted or a bearing damaged," Happy explained. "They won't stop it entirely. You would have problems with things like water that's not in sealed vessels. There are lots of folks who have no experience with zero G and would totally freak out. I can just see everything in bins and closets floating free."

Everybody in the room looked to their pad as they all dinged as well as the desk com.

Emergency Notice: Mitsubishi Administration. As a safety precaution maintenance has been instructed to temporarily reduce spin to moderate structural issues if M3 experiences hostile action. We do not anticipate this being a long term change. There should be no need to arrange heavier sleeping accommodations for minors for just a few days time. Spin will be reduced, not eliminated, so no changes in stowage or fluid storage should be needed. Your perceived weight will be reduced by a factor of about half over the next three hours. We encourage you to be cautious moving about if you are not used to dealing with other levels on a regular basis. When spin is restored it will be just as gradually so you need not anticipate any sudden increase.

If it has been some time since your annual inspection we suggest you make sure your place of work or residence has sufficient emergency pressure suits for the number of people present. Distributing them to be near each work station or sleeping area can save valuable time in the event they are needed. If you move about well away from your emergency suit for your work or commercial activity, it would be wise to take your emergency suit with you. The carrier for the suits have a handle and loops on which a shoulder strap can be attached.

Notice will be given when we start the process to bring spin back to normal.

Thank You, M3 Physical Structure Management

"Local calls Earth Control when we move a ship out of the control area. I wonder if they call when they move the entire habitat?" April wondered.

"It's only a couple kilometers. I doubt if they say anything. They are after all moving the entire control area," her grandpa allowed. "To announce it might be seen as provocative."

"Everything is provocative to these creeps," Jeff complained. "But they can do piracy and murder and it's supposed to be 'sophisticated' to expect sovereign states to act that way."

"I'm on your side," Happy reminded him. "Mitsubishi may not want to provoke them, but I have no problem with you dropping the hammer on the bastards."

"The armed merchant Silly Willy informs me to my private com that there is a shuttle reentry visible below them crossing Greece that looks to be on a vector for the
Jiuquan facility," Louis told them. "They estimate a twenty to twenty-five minute touch down."

"We owe them big and I won't forget," Jeff said furiously typing commands. "I want to see them actually roll this shuttle into the security perimeter before I believe it has the Rascal aboard. If we hit the wrong one and they land the real one on some expedient military air base we may never know. I'm stacking everything up to go or no go in forty minutes. If I can't tell by then it will be another forty minutes to target them with a smaller group of weapons. I really don't want to do that."

"That's cutting it fine. Why didn't you leave yourself another ten minutes. They can't transfer the Rascal or refuel the shuttle to lift again in a day, much less ten minutes," Louis asked.

"Yes, but if they have cut some of the compensators loose they could pull a couple jets up and stuff them in those planes and disperse them to open and study at their leisure. How far can a fast plane climb out and go in twenty minutes?" Jeff asked.

"Probably too far," Louis admitted. They waited tense with anticipation.

"Look at this." He expanded the screen to a view about forty miles across and then zoomed in and circled a tiny white dart just on the edge. "They are on faster approach than normal. That shuttle is heavy. It's on a glide path like a brick. They are going to touch down at eighteen minutes, not twenty-five. That gives you a few minutes."

The watched the shuttle a couple minutes and then Louis zoomed back to the end of the runway and the security area. There was a bustle of activity, some of the light armor driving out to the end of the runway and taking up station by the taxi-way. Two tow tractors took up position each on a taxiway entry a couple kilometers from the runway end.

The shuttle landed long. They didn't see a puff of tire smoke until it was well into the area of black tire streaks. The chute popped quickly and the far tow tractor turned onto the edge of the runway and accelerated. The shuttle had almost caught up to the tractor when it dropped the chute and coasted. The tractor matched speed and slid in from the side. They hooked the front landing gear on the roll and took control of the spacecraft without a hitch, slick as snatching a tossed beer. They swung left, taking the shuttle gear on that side near the edge of the pavement and did a wide arching turn into a taxiway connector to their right.

The four armored vehicles waiting on the dirt kept their distance, but pulled away and paced the shuttle onto the tarmac. They couldn't see the hanger door from their angle but the tug barely slowed at all as it approach the secure hanger and was still slowing when the tail of the shuttle disappeared from their view under the roof. The armor peeled off and took up station again.

"My goodness, I never saw a tug rush into a shelter that fast. I bet it was a close thing getting it stopped before the shuttle squashed them against the far wall," Happy said.

"Eighteen minutes to touch down and another seven minutes to get hooked and towed out of sight. They certainly are eager to hide that one, Anybody see anything, anything at all, that would make you doubt the Rascal is in her hold?" Jeff asked.

"No way," Louis objected. "They don't have the assets to load a shuttle up with dead weight and go through this elaborate of a theatre to deceive us."

"Nines to four places that is it," Happy agreed. "They were lucky to even have another vessel of this class after they lost one to the Happy Lewis last year, another to the USNA near M3 and the crew of the Rascal managed to shoot the crap out of the one that snatched them. I can't believe they had an extra hanging around in orbit not just as a back-up but to play shell games for us."

"We are golden then," Jeff said frowning. He extended a hand and hesitating, took a deep breath and let it out. The single tap of the key seemed anticlimactic.

Chapter 13

In LEO a group of forty mini-rods spread out and braked. They were each about a quarter of the mass of the rods the militia used to defend April in Hawaii. They were however cheaper and they made just as menacing a target plunging through the atmosphere toward you at twenty-seven thousand kilometers per hour. They cost the ballistic defense just as expensive a missile to intercept, but they cost a third to make.

They had a much smaller radius of effective destruction, but they were intended to draw fire more than damage targets. They were allowed to select their own targets within the rough circle of the base. Their target imaging was fairly crude. A few picked actual antiballistic batteries, some just large buildings. A couple saw the  outline of an aircraft and one lucky rod picked the actual golf-ball shape of a radome.  Three failed to lock on a high value target far enough out and defaulted to the runway itself. None happened to aim within a hundred meters of the hanger.

The base defense hit a few of them out at almost a hundred kilometers. 'Hitting' a solid iron bar coming on endwise with the cross section of an orange and going over 7 kilometers a second doesn't mean much. In the target rich environment of the base they were as likely to deflect a rod into a more important target as they were to save another.

The base battle management software tried to see a pattern to the attack but there wasn't one. The targeting was near random given the crude software and limited cameras on the rods. What did matter was almost every launcher on the base ended up releasing a missile by the time the first wave impacted.

The second wave had eighty mini-rods and they were not allowed to pick their own targets. They were programmed in flight to hit the radar and anti-missile launch sites observed and did so with the added detail of being commanded to criss cross each other in a snarled mass of terminal maneuvers that served no purpose but to be confusing. The descending column of glowing heat shields spiraling and weaving back and forth and trailing ablated material as they came down  looked like some bizarre braid of fire. Two actually veered into each other against all odds.

All eighty hit within a tenth of a second of each other and put as much energy on the ground as a small tactical nuke. Everything not bolted down bounced off the ground or floor. Each one delivered the energy of a World War Two Blockbuster and they clustered on the base perimeter where the defenses were located.

Six launchers remained active, but just behind the second group of rods a cluster of three  recently prepared weapons were two seconds behind. They had Singh accumulators packed behind a large canister of metallic calcium. Cesium or sodium would have been better but calcium was the only metal being separated from the Rock in sufficient quantity that so far had no significant market so it was cheap. There was talk of using it for structural elements and electrical wiring, but it had no real engineering data or history since it was useless in an Earth atmosphere. They fail safe detonated when the few remaining interceptors released approached them just inside eighteen kilometers altitude. The charges were respectable, ten kilotons each. But at that altitude they wouldn't do any damage on the ground.

What they did do was blast a sheet of vaporized metal across the sky that retained much of its downward motion in its expansion. The ionized mass blocked both radar and infrared and didn't start dissipating much until it was below ten kilometers.

The critical weapon, his lone reentry sled with the Singh fusion warhead, did not come through this ceiling shielding it to show on targeting radar until it was eight kilometers high. It had twenty decoy rods to provide alternate targets slightly ahead of it, but it was falling behind as it had more aerodynamic drag and a slightly different thermal signature. The lack of sophisticated decoys didn't matter by then.

It would have impacted the ground from when it became visible on radar in slightly more than a second, but it was fused to detonate at a kilometer if not intercepted. Since it was aimed at the center of the base the two launchers that managed to get a lock and compute a shot at it had to shoot almost horizontally from the base perimeter.

That was not how the system was designed to operate. They launched at a high angle turned and tried to beat the target to an interception point high enough to mitigate damage from their own detonation. It was too late. The weapon made it all the way to target and detonated 973 meters up and offset about sixty meters from the targeted hanger.

The fireball would have completely vaporized the Rascal and its secrets if it had yielded ten percent of its estimated energy. The crater would have been perhaps fifty meters deep and a couple hundred meters across depending on the bedrock.

Instead the fireball blacked the screen out completely and Louis zoomed the camera back to try to see the scale of it from a higher apparent vantage point. He kept expanding the view until at a height equivalent of a two hundred kilometers he finally had the glowing fireball centered in a screen that could handle the illumination. The fireball itself was huge and well off the ground by then. It was impossible to gauge what had happened underneath it.

The ground wave was a visible ripple in the land rolling away from the base as a ring of dust and soil thrown into the air. They barely backed up the view enough in time to see it roll through Jiuquan. A city of a million and a half people vanished in half a second. The ripple in the earth lifted buildings, shattering their foundations and they crumpled from their weight as they dropped back. The air wave was slower, but lifted so much debris the land was obscured underneath. There was little undamaged for it to push over as it caught up to the prompt effects.

When the rising fireball hit the cold rarified air of the upper atmosphere it spread out in a classic mushroom cloud cutting off their view.

"Oops." Jeff said in a small voice.

Everyone else sat in stunned silence. Finally April's com dinged and she answered it. "Yeah, Jeff did hit the launch center. We have video of it I'll show you. I don't think he expected quite that much yield. Yeah, yeah, I'm sure they will, at least we don't have to call them and tell them about it do we? Yeah I'll tell him," she promised.

"Jon points out the ground wave from that is going to rattle Beijing pretty hard in about ten minutes. He says the guys on the Rock got a good look at it with millimeter radar before it dropped across the far horizon and the crater is about six kilometers across and most of a kilometer deep from ground level, maybe a little deeper from the ridge thrown up."

"Got any idea what kind of yield it would need to do that?" Happy asked.

"Roughly, between two hundred and three hundred megaton I'd say. I guess the fusion went well into heavier elements. My mum thought that might happen." He got a faraway look and started nodding to himself. "I can see now how you could make it more efficient with less fuel and if you added a sort of layered tube mirror arrangement beside the fuel," he said forming it in the air with his hands, "I can see being able to focus a tremendously powerful x-ray beam for ship to ship engagements without having a laser media."

Gunny looked at him. "I know you can't put the genie back in the bottle, but when you start talking like that I get the strongest urge to smother you before you invent something else. I think that was quite efficient enough. You scare me, can you understand that?"

"And yet," Happy said raising an index finger to draw Gunny's attention, "it really doesn't matter if he scared you." He hoped Gunny hadn't seen April straighten her leg and clear her left arm from being in the way of drawing her pistol. They were both very fast but he wasn't sure who was faster. He did know she'd never let Jeff be harmed. Neither would he, if he could do anything about it. "What matters is if the Chinese are smart enough to be scared."

"Do you really think they will take a chance on having another of those dropped on them?"

"You can rarely go wrong betting on human stupidity," Happy said.

"Well if they are stupid enough to risk eating another one of those, then to hell with them. They deserve it if they haven't learned to leave Home and the Singhs alone," Gunny said.

Happy relaxed marginally. He was pretty sure Gunny didn't intend any harm to Jeff. The more he thought about the sort of man Gunny was, if he had meant any harm he'd have never said anything, he'd have just acted.

Jeff looked at them, just as thoroughly horrified as they were, but he turned and started putting instructions into the computer.

"What are you doing Jeff? Do you need me to do something?" Louis asked.

"I'm hoping Happy is wrong, but I am betting on human stupidity. I have enough assets in orbit for one more strike against a defended land target. I'm stacking the rods and a big weapon up to overwhelm a defended target again. I'm not a monster, I honestly hope I don't need to, but nothing has changed. If they don't yield and leave us alone I'm going to hit them again harder. I have to or they are going to keep coming at us."

"Let's try to find out if they'll back off before you drop this second group," Happy counseled. "The Rascal is gone. You achieved your primary objective. You still have your secrets and if anybody wanted vengeance for our crew I think the books are more than balanced on that score. You have the com code for their army traffic control. Use that and ask to be kicked up the line to their national command level authorities."

"I'll do that, but I'm putting it on a dead man switch," he said, typing in commands. "If I don't tell it to hold  every ten minutes it activates. April, will you call Jon again. He's as close to a spokesman for Home as any of the Earthies would recognize. He's been spox for the Assembly before. See if he has any contacts down there to talk to the Chinese and persuade them to stand down. Tell him what the situation is here with a fail-safe launch set up and whatever else you think it's important for him to know. I'm going to contact that army control center again and see if I can talk any sense to them. Heather will you try to find out just how big a wheel that fellow we talked to is in their hierarchy? I want to know if he can really speak for the nation."

Jeff tried to call the address the com had retained for the Army traffic control center. It refused a connection for his address. He called the CAAC again and was politely told there was nothing else they could do and it was not their direct concern if their military declined a connection. He did the only thing that came to mind and expressed his intent to them framed as a traffic warning. He took a long deep breath and tried to detach himself, speaking carefully trying for as neutral an expression and voice as he could under the circumstances.

"I had a problem with some behavior from your military about private property that I was unable to resolve. I realize that is not your concern or anything requiring your judgment as air traffic controllers. That is however the reason  the Jiuquan launch facility was converted to a large smoking crater. I'm sure you must be aware the space facility is – gone?"

There was no visible reaction from the man.

"Please be advised there is a continuing hazard that the very same action may be taken with Beijing if we can't resolve this difference of opinion. Air travel to Beijing may be a hazard within the next day if I find it necessary to drop a large fusion device on the capital. I'd suggest not flying any closer to Beijing than the distance you care to be a two-hundred megaton device being activated. It's a shame really, I'm sorry to have to contemplate doing that.  Would you post that advisory please?"

The controller just stared at him like he had two heads. He somehow doubted he'd post such an advisory even if it was now framed as entirely within his proper concern. But maybe after he disconnected he'd forward it to someone who was not a fool. If such a person existed in the Chinese government.

Gunny cracked up as soon as he disconnected. "I know it's not funny," he said wiping the tears running down his face, "but you embraced their insanity perfectly. I could never have done the perfect dead-pan delivery to parse it precisely as an air traffic problem. If you are going to communicate with insane people you have to sound insane," he concluded. "And if they are faking insanity now they have to wonder if you are playing the same game with them or are really as detached from reality as you both sounded."

"They have to present as insane for political survival. It must be scary to hear somebody not under the party's thumb sound just as squirrely as their party comrades," April said.

"Did I sound that irrational telling you how I was afraid to sneak a look behind the curtain of censorship while I was on active duty?" Gunny asked.

"No, you sounded intimidated, but still calculating. These guys sound like they are broken. Like they honestly can't track what is real and what is theatre anymore," April told him.

"Jon said he'll see what he can do," April said. "What do we do now?

"Sit and wait on everybody else." Jeff said, frustrated.

* * *

Jon considered all his options. He might get a hearing from some because he'd been the voice of the Assembly last year for Home. But that seemed an excellent reason to him he should stay out of the public eye in Jeff's dispute. There was still the possibility Home would not get dragged into this. If he involved himself that seemed to shout to the world that Jeff and Home were the same. He had contacts in the USNA State Department. He might even get a message through to President Wiggen if he worded it right. He'd get a respectful audience with the Japanese and of course with the Tongans. But the truth was he didn't have any influence with any of them. He'd likely get a smug look of urban sophistication and a polite lecture on how things aren't done so crudely at a diplomatic level.

If he still worked here he'd dump it on Eddie Persico. He'd sent Eddie to ISSII to fetch Dr. Singh back last year. He'd done a bang-up job of dealing with local conditions and recruiting support.  With a little help he brought everybody home in one piece. Eddie insisted he was still available when he was needed. This seemed like an excellent time to test that.

"Persico? Jeff has been trying to talk to the Chinese. They aren't at all interested in conversation. You familiar with what's going on? I was actually sort of surprised you weren't with all the rest of them at Singh's offices. You aren't having a spat with any of them are you? I can't keep up with stuff so you can't hint about anything, you have to tell me directly."

"I'm getting along with everyone just fine. I decided that I didn't need to intrude into their private space if they didn't ask for me. It's already a mob in that tight cubic. I'm busy responding to all the market movements that nuking the crap out of the Chinese created. They can keep it from the public, but the market makers know. I've noticed they are very casual with who is in the camera view and it might be useful not to be too tightly associated with the events of the day."

"Exactly. I was hoping to keep a little distance myself. Do you have time to give me a hand here and there, between all the market action?"

"You want me to check in the next shuttle full of tourists for you?" Eddie quipped.

"I was hoping maybe you retained some connections from your rescue mission last year. I've been asked to try to defuse the tension with the Chinese. Jeff is sitting with a bombardment mission held from activating on a ten minute cycle. If somebody foolishly harms him it times out and Beijing is gone. Given the size of the weapon they used to take out Jiuquan I'd expect the actual municipality of Beijing to be a literal crater. The surrounding whole province of Hebei would be wiped flush to the ground without a survivor not in a deep bunker. Now I don't give a rat's ass about the thieving old men running it, but the clueless innocent people, the Hidden City and museums and things that are a common cultural heritage of humanity I really hate to see vaporized."

"Are any politicians sane?" Eddie asked.

"None I've had the pleasure of knowing," Jon assured him. "Just as you were trying to distance yourself from the Earthie viewpoint I don't think it's a good thing to have them see me as Jeff's spox. I've already done that for Home and some people already think that whatever Jeff says is official Home policy. We really can't afford to create that false impression."

"Yes, put that way I agree. It's not an advantage if it sends a false message. There is one contact I can think of that might have some leverage. I'll see what I can do and get back to you, today likely if I can do anything at all."

* * *

Eddie didn't even get a chance to say anything. Jan Hagen was slouched back in his chair with those hooded eyes that made him look half asleep. "My God, have things gone south that badly that you are calling me?" he blurted out.

"Well you did give me an open invitation to ring you up, although I'm surprised you are still head of security over there. Isn't it supposed to rotate among the member nations?"

"They're arguing about it. Seems I stuffed my successor out the airlock and they don't quite know what to do about that. Some of the silly heathens intimated it was a sign of moral turpitude. What else was I supposed to do?" he asked, hands spreading, like it was self evident.

"So when my term expired for the Swiss and nobody really wanted to step up and do this awful job, they all agreed to let the Germans have a turn out of rotation and they appointed me. Perfectly reasonable, since I have dual citizenship. Efficient too. I'm here already. I just have to remember to have a more robustly German accent when I answer the com."

"Have your relations, uh, smoothed out any with the Chinese?" Eddie hoped.

"To a degree. They tend to stay in their cubic and when they do go out they go in groups of four or six and when they see me they get all twitchy. I don't think they can figure out when I sleep exactly to avoid running into me. That's a vast improvement over when you were here before. Remember how cheeky the little buggers would get back then?"

"I'm afraid that wasn't the direction I was hoping for."

"We just had a dead Chinese fellow turn up floating about outside in a rescue ball. Someone got really artistic killing him. I could tell by all the frowns and sideways glances they suspect I have to be involved somehow. They are so paranoid they think it ties me in that the fellow had a Swiss knife stuck in him. I don't even protest my innocence anymore. It falls on deaf ears." He leaned forward and looked at Eddie closely. "You know something about that! You squirmed. Now why didn't I figure out M3 was involved if I wasn't?" he asked. "Don't tell me this is about the hijacking? I've been waiting for a call from your Jon about that and he hasn't said a word. You'd think he'd wonder if we had any more information we didn't share, but he seems an incurious sort. No, not the hijacking, not directly. Your face said no."

"Why even say anything?" Eddie asked. "I can just sit here and let you watch my face as you run through a hundred questions. You don't even need to make a verbal response to run through the software, that would just slow you down!"

"Well, I am a pretty decent interrogator," Jan said immodestly, "and I wouldn't take up high-stakes poker for a living if I were you," he advised, careless of Eddie's feelings. "That dead fellow, he didn't mess with the Singhs or the Lewis clan did he? Ah…Okay. That explains that puzzle. The poor stupid bastard. No wonder he was so thoroughly dead."

"I was actually hoping to talk about the Earth Chinese. You are aware our boy-wonder Jeff blew the Jiuquan launch center clean off the map?"

"Yes, I'd hoped this wasn't about that, but I'm not surprised. I saw his manifesto on it. There was too much proprietary tech on the Eddie's Rascal and he destroyed it to deny it to them. Do I have that basically right?"

"Yes, the Rascal didn't carry one of the secret weapons yet, but it had other Singh tech."

"That lacked subtlety you know. You wiped out a city of over a million people to destroy that ship. Have you ever heard of the concept of a surgical strike?"

"Are you familiar with when the US was testing nuclear weapons back in the 1950s?"

"In a general way. They did it right out in the open atmosphere and caused an environmental mess, right? What has that got to do with anything?"

"Yes and they blew a bunch of islands and atolls to hell and displaced the natives too. But the point I wanted to make was they were transitioning from pure fission bombs to fusion. They did a Castle series of tests and when they lit off Castle Bravo it was supposed to be about six megaton plus or minus and they got fifteen instead," Eddie explained.

"Ah, so that's what happened with Jiuquan?" Jan guessed, running ahead. Nobody ever accused him of being slow.

"Very much so. It appears he got well over two-hundred megaton. He was looking at fifty on the high side."

"Well, that makes me feel better about him but I doubt it would impress the Chinese much."

"I remember you said that networking was the only thing that kept the whole system from failing. Well, here's the situation. Jeff is sitting there waiting for a Chinese response. They won't talk to him. He has Beijing targeted and has to tell the computer every ten minutes not to wipe Beijing off the map. Jon told me it would fully crater Beijing and wipe the entire surrounding province  to a parking lot. He's going to eventually take too long on a bathroom break or get tired and nod off, see something that looks like an attack, or just grow weary and say to hell with it and let the system activate. Is there any network fix for this bad of a mess?"

"So he has two weapons? I'm surprised he could get enough fissionable material for one kernel. Is he getting the material off Earth? I wouldn't think the Rock has that much uranium if they processed the whole thing."

"Jan, it's a pure fusion weapon. It doesn't need a fission kernel and I honestly have no idea how many weapons like this he has, except – more."

"Damn, no way the other militia folks would restrain him from using them?"

"This isn't a militia action, he's not even a member. The Home militia hasn't dropped a single weapon. Which incidentally means they have their full system on alert and undepleted by so much as a single rod. Drag them in and it doesn't get any better. These are from Singh's private system and I don't know if anybody has the codes and keys but him."

"That seems, unstable. I can pass word along through third parties, but you understand, I'm not exactly viewed favorably by the Chinese myself. In fact I'm shocked they haven't made any serious effort to assassinate me. I don't know if they'll believe a word knowing it's from me."

"Do try please. If it isn't stopped now I'm afraid it will get entirely out of hand. If he has to hit Beijing then what exactly is the incentive to stop again and wait for a response like he's doing now? Why not be done with it and drop your whole kit on them and remove them as an Earth power of any significance?"

"That would take a lot of doing to set them back that hard. I'm not sure it can be done."

"The person who passed this request along suggested a full bombardment would remove half their population and eighty percent of their industrial capacity. That's not factoring in if Jeff's mother or the militia get involved, just Jeff."

"Do you mind if I reveal that about being a pure fusion weapon? That's rather a game changer. It the sort of a factoid that gives me some credit and will get their attention."

"Nothing I said is secret. I'm going back to my people and try to get them to hold off and wait to see if you can talk sense to the Chinese. If there is a reasonable person somewhere in their command structure I suspect he doesn't even know he's sitting with a big gun held to his head. Their system is prejudiced against any report being made that doesn't comport with official party propaganda. It is a custom that just may kill them this time. Will you call me if you have any news?"

"I may not get any real feedback before it is resolved. I certainly don't expect a formal call even if what I do works, but you have hi-res surveillance to direct the strikes don't you?"

"I'd be shocked if he doesn't. We didn't talk about that."

"Then optimize it to observe Beijing. I suspect if I can make anything happen you'll be able to see it unfold with your own eyes well before anyone talks about it."

"I'll pass that back up the line. I'm away," Eddie added, disconnecting.

* * *

Jan made a short list of talking points in the corner of his screen. He'd have to tailor which he used to the agent and allow them to drag the rest out of him, picking up anything he could from them while he was at it. It was all well and good to save the world after all, but information was the currency in which he traded. No point in just giving it away.

He called up a fellow in Australia who he knew leaked things to some of the people at Jane's. He assessed various weapons systems for their DOD, but his personal interest was anything that went BOOM. "Sean, Jan here," he said slouching back in his seat."Do you folks have any plume samples yet off that detonation in China? I have a rumor here, a source that has been spot on before, but this assertation seems a little out there. I'd like to have some physical confirmation before I give it too much credence. And if that craps out then all the rest he told me is suspect. Well show me yours and I'll show you mine," he offered…

* * *

"I can't stay awake indefinitely," Jeff protested. "I need a statement. A clear surrender on this one narrow issue that they will leave my mum and us alone. I was shifting our cam to look straight at Beijing anyway, but what am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Jon didn't say, but Eddie clearly set some things in motion. He showed his ability last year when he got your dad and mum to the shuttle on ISSII. I'd give him as much time as he needs to work this," April pleaded.

"Look, you're getting punchy already," she said. "This is exhausting. It's only a half G here. Let me get a pad and put it against the wall there. You can sleep right here and Heather and I will keep the system active. If anything happens we'll wake you right up, I promise."

"There's an air mattress in the cupboard under the coffee maker right there. It's plenty good. I've used it before. Just don't get too rambunctious and I can sleep pretty easily, I think."

April made him take his shoes off despite the fact they were little more than slippers. After he closed his eyes she dropped the lighting in steps to half. Pretty soon he was snoring.

* * *

The head of intelligence analysis associated with China's Space Service, Hu Jiankang  didn't sit to a morning briefing like politicians. He got an hourly summary of hot events, insisting on a stack of flimsies, being from a poor background and raised using paper more than his peers and assistants. He knew they weren't going to disappear because there was a power blip, as had been much too common in his youth. He was handed the new batch by his assistant  right on the hour mark without a word and started to read.

Isotopic analysis of  Jiuquan launch facility detonation plume: No traces of uranium or transuranic elements were present in the fallout plume consistent with normal nuclear weapon design. All traces of heavier elements are in the range expected from a detonation with the fireball touching the ground level. What small amounts of fissionable material were present are likely from the vaporization of weapons present in the launch facility stores or on ready aircraft or space vessels. There is no corresponding presence of the expected fission products or short lived isotopes to show this material ever experienced a super-critical mass.

Well, wasn't that interesting? He flipped to the second sheet.

Agency in the News Intercept: The following video was posted to commercial news outlets in Europe and leaked past net censors to much of North America. The video appears to be actual footage of spacers attempting communication with Military Traffic Director Li Jintao. Analysis of the video finds no evidence the image was manipulated to match the audio track. In it Home resident Jeffery Singh asserts he will wage war on the People's Republic over his confiscated property. IMPORTANT NOTE: The site on which this was released is considered a parody site. It highlights the absurd and contrarian in the news. In the English idiom, dog bites man is not news, but man bites dog is a reversal of normality, so it is newsworthy or amusing. That is the sort of stories they boast of featuring.

An analyst who talked down to him by explaining parody was likely to get bit himself. An individual threatening the People's Republic was ridiculous. But it behooves one to determine if in fact such an individual was an unbalanced raving madman, or an owner of ungodly large thermonuclear weapons. It was an important distinction. Jiankang sighed and covered his eyes briefly, feeling a headache coming on way too early in his shift. He ordered his assistant to bring him a pot of tea and an analgesic and continued.

* * *

Oliver Whitcomb, the British agent, traded his information on the American corn crop to the Chinese agent he only knew as Chen for figures on South African rhodium production. They discussed shopping lists for other data to exchange in the future. Chen informed him that next year North America intended to include the sugar beet crop data to the list of items not published for national security. He didn't ask a source.

Business satisfied, they exchanged gossip over lunch. The food was Vietnamese, as was the bustling city outside the restaurant window. The Chinese fellow allowed he'd believe that 'T' the Japanese agent who disappeared from Hawaii was really dead when he saw a body laid out and could take DNA samples. The Brit couldn't fault that sentiment. He was deeply suspicious too.

"You know old man, it's none of my business, but if you have family in the Beijing area I'd get them far away as fast as I could."

"Well sure, I should send them back to our ancestral village to help with the rice harvest. It would teach the kids why I spent the last thirty years getting as far from that hole as possible."

"There have to be other safe havens, or a vacation of some sort, but what I'm hearing is Beijing is liable to get the same treatment as Jiuquan if you fellows so much as look funny at the Singh clan up on Home."

"Jiuquan? My agency network has not mentioned anything in connection with Jiuquan. The city or the spaceport?" he inquired.

"The port is gone but the city was somewhere around eighty or ninety percent destroyed too. Seems they landed a small vessel there that was confiscated from the Singhs of Home when it was docked at ISSII. It was seized on the basis of educational theft. The designer publicly said in a news release he'd destroy it rather than let them keep it. But nobody had any idea he'd use a rather large thermonuclear weapon to destroy it. It seemed a bit of overkill to destroy one very small spaceship."

"Pull the other one. Anything that big would be on the screen there," he said pointing at the big screen behind the bar with a continuous news feed.

"Silly me," the Brit smiled. "I forgot how transparent the People's Republic has become after the Cleansing Winds campaign swept away so much error back, what has it been? A decade now?"

"Show me some hard evidence and I'll allow the news might be held back temporarily to avoid too great a shock or panic. Especially if it is an ongoing problem being dealt with."

"That's exactly the point. It is ongoing and nobody in my shop has any idea how it's going to shake out. Here, take a look at this," he offered sliding his hand com across the table. "This is the sat view of Jiuquan Launch Center the day before and then late yesterday after the lofted debris blew away."

The grim faced fellow toggled back and forth between the two images. Only the shape of the land on the fringes still matched. He opened his own com and called someone.

"Wei? Would you please humor me and call your brother who works at the Jiuquan facility and ask what the weather is like there right now?" he blinked rather rapidly. "I see. Did they give any indication when service would be restored? No that's all thank you."

"He tried to call his brother yesterday evening and got an automated message that they had a disruption in service and to please not keep trying the circuits as it interfered with repairs."

He looked at the image on the Brit's pad again and entered another call. "My dear, I entirely forgot to ask you to take my blue jacket to the cleaners before I left. Would you do that so it is clean when I come home? Yes, I'm quite certain it was the blue one. It got all smelly at that awful party last week with the Korean fellows sucking down those cheap cigars. Thank you, give my love to the children when you put them to bed too. Bye."

"Code phrase," the Brit observed.

"Yes and she didn't want to hear it, but they will be safely away in about two hours if she does as we carefully planned. I owe you for this."

"I'm not trying to turn you," he said embarrassed. "We've always played straight with each other and this is just decency to let you know, not business," he protested. "If we didn't watch out for each other the big boys would treat us all like a ruddy sani-wipe."

* * *

"Thanks for confirming it," Jan said to the French fellow who was married to a Chinese lady. A one-time dancer who had come to Paris in a cultural exchange and decided to defect. She called her mother in Kumul once a week and yes, her mom had mentioned an earth tremor a couple days ago. Jan swore him to secrecy and told him what the quake really was. That made thirty-seven spooks, business people, military officers, ex-pats, travel agents, importers, professors and just plain gossips who were all told his tale in confidence or to who he tried to deny that there was anything going on while pumping them for information specific to the day and region. He was exhausted and sure if he knew human nature at all the lines were flooded with rumor and even more questions than he had answers. He went to bed pleased with his effort no matter how it played out.

Chapter 14

Jeff slept and upon awakening was bullied by both April and Heather to go home and take a shower and change clothing. When he hurried back they went home and did the same, but one at a time, like he couldn't sit a board alone. Gunny had taken the opportunity to go freshen up the same time as Jeff with far less urging. Now Gunny volunteered to get a carry-away pack for them all from the cafeteria. They had been on watch now from breakfast to breakfast. All of them were tired of being cooped up and checking their own business by com or searching through the news looking for anything related to the strike. Louis was gone home to sleep and recharge. He hated to leave, scared he'd miss something, but exhausted.

* * *

Huian herded her children in front of her watchful but confident. They were obedient children, far more than average because her husband had impressed upon her that their lives might depend on obedience some day. This seemed to be the day. Her twelve-year-old son understood what was happening more and could assist her in a number of ways, but even her eight year old daughter would not create a fuss or argue with her in public when she was told it was a 'mission'.

She carried a common shopping bag but it didn't contain the results of a shopping trip. It had a change of clothing for each of them and a bottle of water and a couple energy bars for each. The substantial amount of cash she carried was in a belt next to her skin. Although the boy was entrusted with a similar belt with a small cache of currency, her belt was also heavy with twelve ounces of gold in small coins. The everyday things in their apartment were abandoned. She didn't have any silly attachment to things like a rice-cooker. Things were less important than their lives.

Her passport was in her purse under her jacket on a shoulder strap and the stiffener in the bottom of her shopping bag concealed her false Korean passport and papers for her fictitious Korean husband and children. She had several items that didn't appear to be weapons to the average person, but her husband had trained her in their use if necessary.

She paid cash for rail tickets, not paying for the full journey to the Vietnam border but only to an intermediate stop. They killed time, had a light snack and ended up on the platform as the first passengers were already loading. Converging on the same train car was a woman with a girl about the same age as her son. She didn't know the woman's name, but her husband had looked up and given the woman's husband a silent nod of greeting in a restaurant some months ago.

She'd asked why he didn't go visit or ask them to come share their table, but her husband had explained it was better for his agency workmates not to socialize outside the secure environment in which they worked. She'd looked and could tell the woman was giving her husband a similar inquiry. Now she wished she had been introduced and she could ask the woman if she was evacuating the same as her. How many spouses were fleeing Beijing?

They got in their tiny private compartment and her girl picked a seat and got lost in her hand com reading a novel. Her boy understood too much about what was happening to relax and sat tense and unsmiling despite usually loving train rides.

The platform was clearing, people who were there to see someone off turning away, when there was a rap at their compartment door. She immediately pulled her tickets out of her jacket pocket and slid the door open, but it was not the conductor, it was a uniformed officer of the military police and he had tabs to indicate he had Inspector ranking.

"Ah, madam. What is the occasion of your travel with such haste? We have noted several families of  special officers buying tickets at the same time. You seem to have avoided using a card to purchase yours. But your face is in the data sets and you were noted at the cash window. It almost looks like a conspiracy of some sort for all of you to have the same sudden urge to seek fresh air and visages in the countryside."

"If you watch me so closely you must know I've been in no contact with any other families, special officers or others. I have an aunt who is in ill health and needs some help for a few days."

"We have not seen any communication it is true, but you did talk briefly to your husband." The train started up with a smooth motion while they talked.

"That's true. He is rather faithful about calling at least weekly when away."

"Do you by any chance have your passport on you, madam?" he inquired.

"I do. I'd never leave it behind, crossing the border or no. There are too many burglaries."

"I'll take that for now since you are concerned about its security," he said holding out his hand. "You will be getting off at the next stop and returning. I suppose it is a huge surprise to you," he said sarcastically, "but I have three other families on this train to interview and inform them they will be returning also."

"Momma, my asthma is acting up," her son said all breathy, holding his hand on his chest. He fumbled around and got out a self-inject pen.

"Go to the washroom to use it and wash your face with cold water and come back when you feel better," she instructed. The boy gave a curt nod and stood up to leave.

"I don't think so," the MP said warily, throwing a blocking arm across the doorway in front of the boy's chest. "You can use it just fine right in your seat," he instructed and turned back to the mother. His eyes got suddenly big and he looked back. The pen was stuck in his upper arm.

He suddenly gave a convulsive little shudder like he was having a chill and would have collapsed, but Huian and her son supported him on each side and walked him to the rear seat away from the window. She put a pillow behind his head and her son did as she instructed and forced the man's ankles crossed. She ripped the rank tabs off his collar and cap. When they pulled the now plain cap down over his face he looked like he was a private, slouched down in the seat taking a nap.

"You did very well," she praised the boy. His sister was looking attentively from the forward bench, book forgotten in her lap. "Give me the cap," she instructed. She yanked the needle and covered it with exaggerated care. "I shall dispose of this and try to contact one of those families of who this man spoke. I saw a lady on the platform I have reason to believe was such. It seems a good time to have allies. You two stay here and keep anyone from disturbing your father's nap," she said nodding at the corpse. "Tell them he is drunk if anyone tries to rouse him," she said with a smile. She wondered if the train engineer would believe Beijing was not a good place to return to right now?

* * *

"These old men find it too easy to die," the head of Space Forces told the Head of Army, nominally the head of all armed forces but really the head of conventional land armies. They were not youngsters themselves, but still twenty and thirty years junior to most of the top party hierarchy. "We faced a nuclear exchange with the Americans and the Russians for years, but it was a known quality. Even if we knew they had an advantage we were certain we could make them pay a price they were not willing to risk. With Home we can't say, They wouldn't dare! They have already dared. They have weapons we do not know and the ones we do know we have no idea of the numbers. We have not even faced their main force as their militia is so far a disinterested group watching this one family clan and us squabble from the sidelines. Do you really want to let these old fools destroy our nation because they have no vision?"

"This is not traditional," the head of Army mused. "Coups are supposed to be led by colonels, not general officers," he pointed out. "high enough in the structure to command a significant force, but young enough to not be so hidebound and set in their ways that they won't take risks."

"Fine, call up a firebrand colonel or three and motivate them to act," he urged. "Let us introduce them to my commanders and get this action launched before we are all arrested and doomed to see the flash marking our destruction from inside some holding cell."

* * *

"Jeff, the street traffic in central Beijing suddenly started dropping off about a half hour ago," Heather said in an odd tentative voice. "It doesn't match any normal  shift change or seem in anticipation of any special holiday tomorrow or anything. There's another odd thing here. Several of the trains that left Beijing in the last twelve hours have stopped before reaching their scheduled destination. And several that were supposed to go into the capitol are sitting on sidings making unscheduled stops."

"Look at this," Louis sent an image to the main screen.

"What are those?" April asked, "and where?"

"They are loading light armor, troop carriers, on road trailers. They don't drive them long distances if it can be avoided. They use too much fuel, need more costly maintenance than a road tractor and the tracked ones tear the roads up something awful. These are about two hundred kilometers west of Beijing at a large Army base. Question is, where are they going?" he added. It didn't take long to answer. They headed east, with an escort of anti-air vehicles and spaced out at five hundred meter intervals like they might come under fire.

* * *

Huian sat on winter wheat leaning back on her elbows to avoid the fabric canopy close overhead. It was warm and the grain smelled strongly, but pleasantly, to an unaccustomed city girl. They'd got off their train far before the first scheduled stop and avoided any other officials waiting to arrest them. The policeman was dumped along the tracks some distance before their stop minus any uniform or ID. Locals would eventually find him and he'd be identified. But long after it was not of any concern to her.

The trailer she and two other families and a single spouse, of 'special' officers were riding in was headed on a normal delivery to grain elevators near the border of this farming district. When they arrived at the terminal she had been assured it would be easy to bribe another driver to let them ride in a similar but empty transport on to the south-west into another agricultural district. Indeed, their driver was eager to arrange it for a small additional fee.

There was a flow of wheat in this direction and a trade in soybeans the opposite way. Each of them had contributed a few bank notes for their ride. If anything she was shocked how cheap the bribe had been. None of her gold had been needed so far.

* * *

"There is a sudden great deal of activity at an airbase to the south of Beijing," Louis noted. "They have a tanker going down the line fueling up a bunch of helicopters and working from the other end of the line they have munitions carts hanging a serious load on these babies. I think the Chinese are about to have a serious family discussion about how to deal with Home and what has to shake-out from Jiuquan."

"That could be what they are arguing over," Jeff admitted. "But I'm really uncomfortable just guessing. What if there was a big coup brewing and it didn't have anything to do with us?"

"Well then I'd guess we'll see them act against us pretty quickly once they have whatever this little tiff we see building is over," April told him. "If they don't I'd be pretty confident we can stand down and not be looking for a strike. At least not any more than we did before they snatched the Rascal," she added.

When all the converging traffic got close to Beijing there was a lot of activity that stirred in the city itself. Other armor blocked the advance of units from outside the city. Helicopters broke up formations of light armor with missiles and even cannon fire. Heavy armor started loading ammo and crew outside the city core and received a flight of ground attack jets before they could even roll. The plumes of smoke from burning armor surrounded the city.

Fan platforms dropped special forces deep in the city, sometimes on building roofs. There was a general blossoming of a great many thermal sources in the city core, including whole blocks of various ministry buildings going up in flames. April hoped it was obvious enough things were going bad that the office workers stayed home today and were not trapped in those burning buildings.

When the Chinese announced their top official had died suddenly of a heart attack and a provisional committee was acting for him until a successor could be appointed, Jeff had to admit it looked like they would have no interest in Home for the immediate future. That change of leadership was announced even before the fires were put out or the shells of burnt armor vehicles cleared from the streets, all of which was entirely absent from the news. It was a good sign they wanted to show there was stability as soon as possible.

"Okay, I'm disengaging our launch on default program. Heather, you and April both check me that it is cleared and we'll sit the board until the next ten minute period clears with no action." They had been on alert for almost three days and were exhausted.

* * *

"I thought you should know," Eddie told Jan. "My people have stood down and the situation is defused. Excuse me for asking, but did you just resolve our problem by toppling the Chinese government?" He seemed to be having a problem with that.

"Heavens no! My supervisors would be terribly upset with me if I did any such thing, without orders from them of course. The Chinese government is still in business, unchanged in form and function. They are no more 'toppled' than a company which fires a CEO and appoints a new one. They are cranking out the same old product with the same work crew. To really change the nature of anything so huge would require more than an IO making a few com calls and planting rumors," he assured Eddie.

"Oh, well, that's good then I suppose, but whatever you did, thank you."

"You're welcome. I won't be shy if I need a favor someday," he warned.

"Networking," Eddie agreed, nodding. "It's the only thing keeping the whole bloody system from breaking down."

* * *

Lin sat in a bosun's chair, rubber soles braced against the hull to keep him from swaying on the line and smoothly painted flowing gold letters across the stern. It was beautiful work, as fine as you'd expect in any boat-yard. He'd shade and outline them too in a bit. Papa-san leaned over the transom on his elbows watching, not nitpicking but simply companionable. Lin was very rarely critical of his liege lord and friend, but he had to ask, "Isn't The Sly Spy a little in your face blatant even for you?"

"Anybody who actually stands where he can read that will already have tracked us down and be confident about our identity. Forgive an old man his sense of humor," he asked.

The small fishing village behind them was backed by the Brazilian jungle and there was no highway into the interior except the river that emptied just south of the town. There was no real deep water harbor, but a sheltering headland that kept the worst storms from eroding their beach. There was cold beer and a decent clinic and a few satellite dishes among the solar panels on the roofs. It wasn't a bad place to live or visit and everyone minded their own business if you paid cash money or gold Sovereigns. There had been no customs or immigration boat appear when they set anchors. Papa-san's Portuguese was not perfect and tended to the European variant, but he wasn't trying to pass for a native anyway.

"The old boat builder who services the local fishing boats and trades in outboards says he can order us a dinghy. It costs a bit more to get it from him than buying it at a bigger port, but with greater privacy. It will be a week and a couple days before the usual supply boat comes in however. What should I tell him?" Lin asked.

"Are you buying an exact replacement? I'd worry somebody might run down all the sales of that model if they suspect we dumped the old one as a subterfuge," Papa-san worried.

"I was going to upgrade a bit actually. They have a new model that is a meter longer, rated to carry six instead of four. It can mount a bit bigger engine and has a decent storm canopy you can erect. The outboard doesn't have to be removed. They have a slick way of tilting it inside and lashing it down. It still fits the deck space, barely."

"Yeah, I see no problem hanging around that long. Go ahead and order it, get the biggest engine it will mount and a much smaller one for cruising slow and saving fuel and hours on the big one. If he wants a deposit that's fine, I'd be surprised if he has that much cash to buy it out of pocket. I'd bet that's about six months worth of business for him. You might as well mount the radar reflector again too," Papa-san decided, looking over his shoulder at the bare mount on the mast. "I think its absence might attract attention now."

* * *

The day after the Chinese coup everybody who had sat through the crisis with Jeff was in recovery mode, exhausted more mentally than physically. The Chinese were pretending nothing had happened officially, which Jeff could not understand. Every nation with a spy satellite could see a huge new crater in the Gobi. Anybody who owned a seismograph had a very distinctive spike on their record that said weapon, not earthquake. Jon assured Jeff their cultural concept of 'face' would preclude them ever openly discussing anything with Jeff and he should drop any silly expectation of such a thing happening.

North America censored any mention of it on public news feeds, as did much of Europe. When April scanned the news services it was all about the World Series of baseball, a court case over whether a parrot could be a service animal and a fishing boat capsized in Lake Michigan that observers swore was dragged down into the waters by something big with tentacles. Europeans who knew appeared to just not care all that much about the matter. The only strong reaction seemed to be in those small countries who were under China's influence and traded heavily with them. April suggested Jeff count his blessings that he was dealing with a clammed up sullen giant, wishing to de-escalate, instead of a screaming vindictive one. She had a point, he admitted. Eddie looked pleased when they heaped praise on him, but stayed very mysterious about the actual details of what he'd done. April added a few new terms for her net bots to search, but resisted the urge to obsessively check the news about China every ten minutes.

By supper time April and Gunny were ready to sit in the cafeteria and interact with people again. They had been content with a simple breakfast in and grabbed a lunch they took back home. April was sort of studying and Gunny disappeared into his room and napped most of the afternoon. When he came out it didn't take him long to get antsy, sitting tapping one foot and then the other. He practically jumped to his feet when April suggested supper.

The corridor seemed busy. There were people April didn't know. She didn't know everybody in home by name, but most of them she knew by sight, though at the rate Home was growing there was no way she was going to keep up now. These new folks looked to be Earthies and when she mentioned that it put Gunny on alert, worried for her.

There was a couple, young by Earth standards but still visibly lacking Life Extension Therapy, walking slow and looking at each store and office. The man was wearing a jacket and a shirt with buttons and a leather belt. The woman was wearing slacks and a blouse, but a fuzzy cardigan sweater with buttons and open pockets.

She was consulting a phone of some sort obviously trying to find their way. The Mitsubishi site for M3 was entertaining for space nuts, but pretty useless as a street guide. April took pity on them and asked if she could direct them anywhere? From the look on Gunny's face he wasn't thrilled with her charity, but didn't say anything. He stood back against the wall where he could look both ways down the corridor.

"I am James," the man hesitated thoughtfully, "Alphonse and this is my wife Elena. We just came in on the shuttle from New Las Vegas. This is all rather confusing to us. We are used to having security traveling ahead for us who become familiar with the area and arrange our accommodations ahead and check us in. We were assured security was much less of a problem on a habitat, so our family was content to allow us to come alone rather than pay for an escort to accompany us."

"You're probably looking at the official site," April guessed. "That flat map is fine for space nuts, but to get around you really need some spex. The local net will build a 3D color coded model around you in your spex oriented to where you are and which direction you are facing."

"I've never worn data glasses," Elena said, visibly embarrassed. "James has used them for military training. We can get him a pair," she proposed. "Is there somewhere near to buy them? A place to get some lunch would be welcome too."

"Our clock is off yours a little. We were just going to get some supper. There are basically two places to eat on M3. The one nearby is quieter. The other caters to the young workers and has a bar and music and lighter food. Would you like to walk with us and we'll show you the way?" April offered.

"If your, uh, companion has no objection," James agreed, examining Gunny dubiously.

"Ah, Gunny probably seems unfriendly to you," April realized. "He's my hired man, in work mode guarding me," April explained. That made both of them visibly relax. They didn't have their security with them, but they immediately understood the relationship.

"What did you think he was?" April teased, leading them down the corridor, "a chaperone?"

That drew an honest laugh from both of them. "We are not unfamiliar with chaperones, but our dueñas tended to be hatchet faced old ladies in a shawl, obsessively working a rosary," Elena said. That necessitated explaining what exactly a rosary was and how one was used.

The cafeteria was much like any Earth cafeteria, it was a pretty mature business model after all. But the couple had the little hesitations and hyper-alertness that said it was an unusual experience for them. When it came time to pay James produced a credit card, but he had to have the optical port pointed out to him and he swiped it awkwardly instead of the automatic flick of the wrist used by people who did it multiple times a day and no longer thought about it.

"Might I ask your name?" James said very formally once they were seated.

"Just call me April," she offered. "I'm April Lewis, but I'd rather be informal." She took her spex off and rubbed the bridge and the ear pieces with a sani-wipe and a napkin. "I have these set to show you where you are," she said offering them to Elena. "You see the symbols on the left side high. The bars will increase the more layers you are seeing. The little checkerboard will color code the cubic according to use. Double-blinking on it quickly will bring up the color chart. The little pyramid on its side will change your perspective from oriented on you to off on the same plane or switch ninety degrees away if you blink right at the point and drag it. If you lose track of where you are look at the little arrow going in a circle and a double blink will take you back to default."

"That's really quite easy to use," Elena said, surprised. James was eating but paying close attention to their exchange.

"Well, sure. That's the whole point of spex to make it easier, not harder."

"What do the other things do?"

"The hash mark is M3 net. You are on that now, that's why it is shaded. The double hash will open up Earth nets to you, if you want to search information sites or shop or make travel reservations or look at commercial news agencies. The same as if you were sitting at a computer at home. The phone icon is not just a phone. You can do text or mail off the pull down menu."

"What are the three ovals overlapping?"

"That you have to log on, I logged out to show you the spex. That's the militia net. You can communicate with other members of the Home militia; see where the active online members are real-time. It deploys and commands orbital weapons and you can ask armed ships for support."

"Amazing," Elena declared, taking them off gingerly like they might explode.

"Don't worry, I use really good passwords and those command programs require biometric identification too. You can't sneeze while ordering new shoes and accidentally bomb Chicago." That got a smile that was definitely brittle.

"Maybe that was insensitive humor," April allowed. "If you are USNA I didn't mean to be flip and offensive."

"No, we are Spanish," James assured her, patting the emblem embroidered on the pocket of his blazer. "We recognized Home fairly early last year. We're just not used to confronting  the nasty side of politics so directly".

"You patted that fancy logo like it should explain it to me. It's pretty, but I don't know what it means. You'd have to explain it to me."

James smile was definitely wry. "I'm further from home than I've grasped mentally. This is the Coat of Arms of the Spanish Crown. It's on our flag also, but I imagine you aren't familiar with Earth flags either."

"No, we don't have much occasion to see them. We haven't had anyone open an embassy and we don't even display our own new emblems much. I really should have them painted on our vessels," April realized suddenly. "We have their names and some nose art. I just didn't think of it until now. I remember seeing the French had their flag painted on L'Arc de Ciel."

"It is traditional," James agreed.

"But I wouldn't think to embroider our ovals on my jacket," April added.

"Ah, but we are of the King's family, so it is our special privilege."

"Does that mean you are royalty?" April asked puzzled.

"Heavens no! We are nowhere near the succession, thank goodness. The Royal Family and the extended family of the King are very different things. We are not even addressed specially back home, which burden the King bestows on some of the close family. You might term us minor nobility I suppose, but it doesn't mean much to have empty titles that don't attach to any land. Being the Duke of something that hasn't been on a map for centuries is meager in benefits. There are all sorts of cousins and distant relations that have duties in government agencies, or run charities for the King. But we are spared for the most part silliness like cutting ribbons for bridges and smashing champagne on ships."

"That's interesting. I have yet to study coats of arms; that sort of stuff is called heraldry, isn't it?" April asked.

"Yes and people get obsessive about it, arguing who is entitled to display what and exactly where a line should be drawn or what angle a chevron should assume. Not to mention there are different systems for just about every European country and similar things elsewhere."

April nodded. "Our habitat is owned by Mitsubishi and you will see their mon of three water chestnuts. It looks like three coral red diamonds. Have you seen it?"

"Indeed, I've seen it in my rear-view mirror on the front of heavy trucks," James agreed.

"I have some mons on a pair of swords I own. My grandfather told me it was unusual because most of the swords the Japanese surrendered after WWII had the family crests made unreadable."

"We don't usually think of people having hobbies and interest in things like antiques on space stations. I suppose I thought everything was ultra-modern and functional," he admitted.

"So are you the sort of a royal cousin toiling away in government bureaucracy when you aren't visiting space stations?" April inquired.

"Not I," James disclaimed, "Elena is the bureaucrat, hard at work preserving Spain's antiquities. She works with several museums and universities and has a great deal to say about how thoroughly an area must be inspected and searched for archeological finds before it is dug up with earth moving equipment to make a road or a building foundation. I, on the other hand, oversee a Royal Charter charity which grants funds to special cultural projects that are worthy, but might otherwise go unfunded."

"Well, isn't that a match made in heaven?" Gunny said grinning, connecting the dots on that quickly and getting involved for the first time.

"Indeed, some crass barbarians have suggested it is a conflict of interest," James agreed, making a prissy face. "We simply see it as efficient. It avoids all the unseemly late night skulking about and sneakiness that such relationships seem to involve when the associates are not married. I think they are just jealous we can keep reasonable hours. Sadly for them as long as the King is happy with us it doesn't matter what they think."

"It always seemed to me having a King could work really well if you had a good one, because you lose all the inefficient layers in decision making. He just says to do something and it jolly well better get done. On the other hand it could be really terrible if he orders all sorts of things, but he's an idiot," April speculated.

"I would share that amusing appraisal with the King at one of our rare extended family soirees, but he's a fanatic about history. It would set him off on a monologue about all his ancestors and into which category they fell during their reigns. Mostly idiots I fear."

"I didn't expect the food in a cafeteria serving the general population to be anywhere near this good," Elena admitted. "I was looking in the business directory for private restaurants and didn't see any. If this is typical of what they serve it would be difficult to compete with them. I had no idea exactly what blackened meant, but my grouper is delicious." She seemed to be doing justice to the Cajun rice and grilled asparagus too.

"We do have a couple small private clubs that are by membership, that's something new. I doubt they'd want to advertise. It has only been recently we suddenly grew from about two thousand residents to almost three thousand now. I don't think it will slow down any time soon. I was told the next ring will need to have another cafeteria. If you'd like to go to a club I can ask my grandfather to arrange it. I've asked him to take me next time they have jazz."

"Will they allow you in a club?" James asked dubiously.

"Without going into a big story, I'm an adult, think of me as emancipated. We don't have any laws about serving liquor to minors even if I were not. We have almost no laws about anything and most of us are working hard to keep it that way."

"I noticed all the weapons people are openly wearing. I was trying to think how to ask about it politely," James admitted.

"Citizens of Home are sovereign, They can arm themselves with anything they please."

"Oh, come now. I don't think you'd want individuals holding nuclear weapons would you?"

"How many days were you over on New Las Vegas?" Gunny asked.

"We spent four days at the Nuevo Ritz. We're still checked in there actually, We didn't want to advertise our business here if it could be avoided. I'm just glad this place doesn't seem to be infested with news photographers watching the entry. There were a few on NLV."

"Paparazzi? If I see any here I'll invite them to be on the next down shuttle, or meet me before breakfast and give me the satisfaction of standing to my fire," April vowed. She laid her hand on her laser to leave no doubt what she meant.

"You can see guarding her is a joy," Gunny said drolly. "You might like to know that the second day you were on NLV the Chinese landed a vessel they had hijacked from a Home company at their main spaceport in the Gobi desert. The owner rather politely asked for it back and they declined. The spaceport is now a crater about six kilometers across. So you see they are perfectly happy with private ownership of nukes. And this fellow was not the least afraid to drop one on China if they insisted on playing rough."

"That's insane!"

"He thought so too. You just don't steal people's stuff and expect there to be no consequences," April agreed, deliberately missing the point of who was insane. She was pleased how Gunny took Jeff's side. "These people are armed because North America invaded us last year. They sent up a shuttle full of Space Seals to try to keep us from seceding. Didn't work, we killed them," she said with blunt economy.

"You're very fortunate they didn't use a nuke on you!" James said horrified.

"Oh they tried that too, didn't work any better," April said blandly.

"None of this was on the news," James protested. He was visibly shocked.

"Really dear. You are close enough to the workings of government to know that is a silly thing to say," Elena said, but not unkindly.

"Yes, but…" words failed him.

"The Valencia affair," Elena said giving him a look that invited him to dispute it.

"God, don't even say that word in public. That's been buried long enough hopefully we may all die before it sees the light of day."

"You see? Every nation has affairs like that tucked in the closet," Elena assured him.

James took a deep breath. "This is remarkable," he said of his pork tenderloin medallions in a dark sauce with mushroom caps and potatoes Lyonaisse. There were three little yellow roses made of shaved squash. "I somehow thought you'd be eating a lot of freeze dried things to conserve lift weight." If it was an obvious forced change of subject nobody objected. He looked stressed enough nobody wanted to add to it.

"Food is very important for morale," April observed. "You are right it is expensive to lift, but nobody would put up with dried stuff for months. If you're going to spend the money to bring it up then the ground side cost is a small fraction and you might as well send the very best."

"Still, someone back there knows what they are doing," he observed.

"Yes we have some good people," April agreed. "What sort of business are you hoping to do here?" she asked, "Perhaps we can help you."

"We have arrangements already," Elena told her. "We just need to find our way to Doctor Gerald Ames. We were told we didn't need a specific appointment time, to just call him on local com to arrange a meeting. It seems a bit late to bother him today however."

"Oh, Jelly. Sure I've done business with him. Most of my friends and family have had the pleasure of working with him. He's okay," April assured them, bestowing a blanket approval.

"We'd rather this didn't get known at home, so if you'd keep it confidential that would be very much appreciated," James asked of them.

"Sure, nobody cares about gene mod up here," April explained, "it just isn't anything that would come up or be of interest," she assured them. "Earthie attitudes don't penetrate much here, less every day."

"If you are emancipated, I'm assuming your time is your own," Elena guessed, "would you hire out to us as a guide and escort for tomorrow?"

April opened her com and looked at her calendar critically, "Yes, if you like I'll be your guide and my man here Gunny will cover you as a bodyguard, subordinate to me. I'll toss in the rest of today freebie. Tomorrow will cost you seven thousand dollars USNA or the exchange in EuroMarks. If you want service after that we have to negotiate it." Little did Elena know April would have likely done it free, if she'd asked nicely.

"Is that really your daily rate?" James asked astonished again.

"I can't remember the last time somebody wanted me to work on the clock," April admitted. "That's approximately double what I pay Gunny, so I didn't ask any more than what my hired man makes for myself and to cover him. I'm not gouging you with tourist rates if that's what you wonder. I have other interests to manage so I couldn't do this as a long term thing either. I tell you what, if that is a burden I can arrange free passage back to New Las Vegas when you want to go. I have fast couriers that go there, every other day usually, three days at the most. That ought to balance out my fee pretty much if you haven't bought your passage back already."

"Do you work for this courier company?" James asked.

"No, they work for me. I'm April Lewis, the firm is Lewis Couriers."

"How old are you?" James insisted, skeptical of the implications.

"What does it matter?" April asked a little put out. "Are you ageist?" she demanded. "I hold a ticket for orbit to orbit so I could fly you myself," she told him.

"I haven't been up here very long myself," Gunny told their guests, "but the young people here are not at all like my nieces and nephews back home in North America. They don't even grant majority at an arbitrary age, you have to get a public vote of confidence that people recognize you as adult. All the teenagers I've met so far are serious and responsible and involved in studies we'd view as college level back home. They mostly learn by doing. They start little businesses and find out what works long before I'd ever have any hope my relatives kids could do the same. I've never seen anything like it. They don't even talk about games, or sports, or what  some celebrity is doing. April here sets the pattern for young people's fashion instead of following it. She's the one who got them all wearing black and carrying fake lasers. You really need to change your expectation of what you are dealing with here on Home."

"So what happens if somebody never displays any sense or ability and he gets to be thirty years old?" James asked.

"Well, from what I understand, down below people are very reluctant to declare somebody incompetent and appoint a guardian for them. Likely Earth folks would demand he act adult even if he didn't have the capacity, so he'd skate along until he got in trouble," April predicted. "He'd likely end up in prison for some impulsive act. We have not had this system long enough to have a test case. I don't know what we'll do with somebody who doesn't have the capacity to manage their own affairs. I know we won't just stuff them away in a prison because we don't have a jail. I'd be surprised if the Assembly would vote the money to build one. Maybe a holding cell to keep somebody violent until they can be banished to the slumball. What to do with native-born like me if they have no family will be a tough one. I suppose we will have to all pay for some kind of supervised residence," she guessed. James visibly twitched at the term slumball.

"This norm of early maturity is not unknown," Helena informed them. "I know this from studying history. In Earth societies there were eras where life expectancy was very short. You had to marry and breed as quickly as possible because odds were you'd be dead by forty years old on the average. You don't have that situation, but it shows young people can be pushed to an earlier maturity if there is need or reason."

Gunny was nodding agreement. "In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare wrote Juliet as a thirteen-year-old and in reply to her reluctance to marry she was told many girls her age were already making fine mothers."

"Your interests continue to surprise me," April told him.

"Hey, just because I'm a grizzled old shooter doesn't mean I can't think. That's one of the reasons Shakespeare is banned in North American schools now, they feel it promotes teen promiscuity and other unwholesome values."

"Oh yeah, like panic suicide on bad information is really so attractive," April said.

"You had a situation on the frontier that made for early maturity too," Elena added. "The land was there to be had for free if you could start a household and work it. So a lot of young boys would marry and stake out a claim for a farm or a ranch next to their family, sometimes as young as fourteen. They might be out alone and armed, riding a wire fence to maintain it as young as twelve or thirteen years old."

"I can see that," April said. "Here we have the pressure of a hostile environment too. We're bigger now, but it used to be that just about every compartment had a bulkhead to vacuum. One of the first things I remember learning was how to open a patch kit and cover a hole to vacuum fast," she told them. "I might have learned that before how to use the toilet. We have emergency pressure suits at our entry now, but I remember when I was little we had them beside each bed."

"Yes, that would make you grow up in a hurry, understanding you are responsible for yourself to keep your very air to breathe," Helena acknowledged.

"So just for the sake of argument the other way, why are my sibling's kids back home such colossal idiots that they can't be allowed alone by law until they are eighteen? And some things like buying alcohol they have pushed the age back to twenty-four now? It's not unneeded," he assured them, "If you left my nephews at home alone they'd tear the place up like a dog left locked in alone all day. It wouldn't surprise me to see them burn the place down, or start making false emergency calls to the public safety center. You are even liable if you don't keep all the cleaning chemicals and your medicines locked away from the little monsters."

"Not much different than Spain," James told them. "If you leave the car keys out and they go for a joy ride it's your butt on the line. I can't imagine trusting any of my relatives' children with a motor scooter, much less a spaceship," he said looking at April.

"I suspect, if we were honest, a careful look at the times it became expected to stay in a childish state would show there were economic reasons underlying it," Helena said.

"You mean to keep them out of the job market?" April asked, surprised.

"Yes. There is no shortage of labor anymore. Unneeded hands are a burden now with automation. But materials are the new shortage. There are a great many things that could be improved and better designs introduced, but the old systems have to be used up. It isn't economical to introduce a new computer or com pad or washing machine until the service is extracted from the old one. And even though the laws have made most of the materials in an old device recoverable, there is still a cost in energy to recycle the old item, fabricate the new one and transport the materials both ways."

"To the point they need to deliberately put brakes on the economy?" April asked.

"So much so that some of the dump sites from the start of the century are being dug up and mined for their metals and glass. You can't believe what they threw away."

"We aren't lifting as much metal to orbit now that we have an asteroid capture to mine," April told her, "but we are a long way from it being cheap enough to sell materials to Earth."

"And I doubt that will change this century," Helena agreed.

"I'll take you up on that ride back," James agreed. "I didn't mean to be offensive. We aren’t poor, but I have to admit I find the prices up here stunning. Our rooms in NLV are really expensive. Will they be any cheaper with Home not being a resort?"

"If anything they will be more. In New Las Vegas  they know most of their guests will lose a pile of money gambling. They could probably comp you the room and make out okay. Here they don't have the house cut on gaming to cover the room." April said. She was starting to think Helena was the brains of this partnership.

Chapter 15

Zack was happy to have two new customers even if the sale was only a couple spex. He took one look at James and Elena and poured on the charm. April suspected he could tell from their clothing and manner that they were potentially valuable customers.

April's com vibrated. Not many callers could make it do that. It was a text from her grandpa. "Classic pianist at club called off sick. Jazz quartet filling in. Want to go?"

"Sure, can I bring Gunny? Might I invite another couple? What time?"

"Tables seat four. We can squeeze an extra chair in, np, 1730?"

"Great – Gunny and me for sure. Will tell you if others beg off."

The Alphonses were declining Zack's offer of coffee. James had his spex on and seemed comfortable with them. Helena was turning her head to look at an uncluttered wall or panel like new users often did before they grew comfortable with an extra layer in their vision.

"My grandpa says there was a switch of musicians for tonight and the people I wanted to hear will be playing. Would you care to come along with me this evening? We would hear a little jazz and have a few drinks. I imagine they will have snacks."

Elena looked at James and got a little nod. "That sounds nice. We need to go to the Holiday Inn and check in and confirm our luggage arrived. Could we do that next so we have time to relax a little and get dressed?"

"Sure, let me show you how to use your spex to find it and guide you there," April offered. "See the little symbol light up? You blink on it and it grants permission for our spex to talk," she got them set and Gunny and she walked them to the hotel.

"This looks so nice," April looked all around, checking out the lobby. "It was damaged terribly a bit over a year ago in the war. I haven't been in since. They had a beautiful big conference table with all sorts of exotic wood inlay in the next compartment there. I hope it didn't get damaged in the fighting. We had a sort of safe room here, but we would come in the back door to avoid being seen."

"A safe room? That sounds like something out of a spy novel," Elena said smiling.

"Oh yes, there was a spy involved at the start. The USNA sent a Space Seal in to try to steal some tech a friend of mine developed. He tore their apartment all apart - made a mess. Set a fire and did some stupid pointless vandalism on top of it all, but never did find the tech. I talked to him out in the corridor believing he was an architectural student. I was so green. That seems like a hundred years ago. Only thing makes me feel any better is he fooled everybody else too, folks older and smarter than me."

"Perhaps you can expand on that this evening. How should we dress?" Helena asked.

"My grandpa said dressy. I doubt they'd turn you away at the door for anything, but if you brought something a bit fancy in your traveling clothes that would be nice."

"What are you wearing dear?" Helena inquired.

"Something dressy Frank Fabbri of Honolulu made for me and some accessories by his associate De Luco," April told her. "It's black."

"Ah, I have a little black dress along, I'll wear that then," Helena agreed, smiling at her joke.

"I imagine you could find your way now that I've showed you how the spex work, but why don't we come by and walk over with you? About twenty minutes early, okay?"

"That would be pleasant," Helena agreed.

* * *

Their rooms were agreeable, but very compact, more so even than the ones in New Las Vegas. If it hadn't been a suite they would have had no room for their luggage.

"What should I wear dear, black tie?" James inquired.

"I think that might be overkill. Perhaps just a pale shirt and your blazer?"

"Surely a dinner jacket at least, for a club?"

"If you wish. Formality doesn't seem to be very common here. She said dressy in fact, not formal. Look at how they were dressed."

"Yes, but you caught them on the way to a cafeteria dinner."

"That's true, but did you hear what she said she was wearing?"

"I know nothing about women's clothing," he reminded her.

"She said she was wearing something made for her by Fabbri of Honolulu."

"So?"

"It was sarcasm. Oh, I don't think she meant it to be mean at all, but he's one of the best designers outside New York or Paris. I doubt he makes a bespoke formal dress for less than a hundred-thousand. She'll be wearing that and De Luco jewelry when, as they say, pigs fly."

"What are you wearing then?"

"A very plain black dress to the calf with plain pumps and minimal jewelry, just a simple chain and earrings and a little clutch purse. She made clear she doesn't expect people traveling to be prepared to dress very well. I must admit I left most of my better things back on NLV."

"I'd give her the benefit of the doubt then, that she is just very practical about things like traveling light rather than underestimating you. You should dress up, please. When else will you have an opportunity to do so here? You can always dress for me, even if the natives don't appreciate it," he pleaded.

"Very well, you're doing a fair imitation of a newlywed," she said giving him a quick kiss.

"Well it hasn't been a year yet and you better stop that if you still intend to go back out."

"We're a bit ahead of them. There will be plenty of time after dinner," she promised.

* * *

They went down to the lobby five minutes early. Their hosts were waiting already. The older gentleman must be her grandfather. He was in a deep blue tux and looked very distinguished. There was something odd about him. He had white hair, but the roots were coming in dark, the reverse of the usual order of things where people dyed their hair. He seemed a bit too straight and moved very smoothly and easily for his age.

Gunny surprised them by being in full dress USNA Marine uniform. It fit impossibly well and his array of ribbons and medals was impressive. He was already a massive man. In dress he looked six inches taller.

April was the most disconcerting however. It took Helena every bit of her self control not to let her mouth fall open. April wore a long sheath of black silk with thin straps, not too tight and slit to the calf. It had a detailed fine pattern like quilting on it, swirls and arcs of slightly raised fabric in careful hand stitching. The patterns were reinforced with a light dusting of fine seed pearls, black and bronze and just a few crème for contrast. She had a necklace of platinum with a triangular center diamond, point up, flanked by large tapered  baguettes. The arc of the necklace followed the neckline of the dress perfectly. Her earrings repeated the triangle and square theme. Her small handbag was covered in the same needlework her dress displayed and she had on black silk pumps with a surprisingly low heel.

James leaned over and spoke softly in his wife's ear. "Oinc, oinc, oinc." She elbowed him in the ribs hard before he could add any aeronautical references to the porcine. He covered any reaction. April quickly got them out the door and moving.

"Master Sergeant," James said counting his stripes, "I'd have thought a USNA uniform would be unwelcome on Home. How is it you are bodyguard to Miss Lewis and yet can wear the uniform?" he asked puzzled.

"I was assigned to guard April by the direct order of President Wiggen. I'm still waiting to receive my mustering out papers from her so until I hear otherwise I am still a Marine. I am very newly arrived and have not had opportunity to buy dress clothing here on Home so I figured it would be nice to wear this one last time."

"By her, you mean President Wiggen again? James asked.

"Yes she said she'd see to my retirement. I mean, of course she'll just call up somebody and tell them to do it, but when the orders come down from the top they do tend to hop to it. As to the folks here on Home, none have been put off by my service. Of course not invading them in space armor, weapons blazing, probably has something to do with that."

"I get the sense you are staying then?"

"Yes, I think I'll give it a try. I found myself played between political factions at home. I've had entirely enough of that, thank you. I came up not two weeks ago because I was told to turn myself in under arrest. Wiggen's people were not shy to use people like me as bait to draw out the Patriot party and expose their coup attempt. I don't like being bait."

"There was a coup? In North America? James asked dismayed.

"They tried. It went rather poorly. That's part of why April and I fled Hawaii. Well, the Chinese were gunning for her too, but that's another story. We slipped away on a sailboat and skulked about the South Pacific for a bit. We eventually made out way to Tonga and lifted for Home."

"Did you just abandon the boat there?" Elena asked. She loved sailing.

"Oh it had a crew to take it away, you don't sail that sort of a boat alone, it was a twenty-three meter ketch. Much more boat than I'm qualified to sail except with the master standing right behind me. You don't sail a little boat around the Pacific like in a sheltered bay. It was very pleasant though. I'd do it again in a heartbeat for a vacation. We anchored in an unpopulated atoll for a few days and had some nice snorkeling," he said wistfully.

"I thought you had seen some sun lately," James said nodding.

"Yeah, people on Home run to the pale don't they?" he said, looking at the back of his hand like it was a new idea. "Unless you are like her buddy Jeff. He's Indian and has a coppery bronze skin half of California would kill to acquire. This'll fade quickly enough though. I doubt there is a tanning booth to be had on the hab."

"I'd never heard of such a thing," April confirmed.

"They are almost regulated out of existence in North America," Gunny remarked.

"I will not say anything," James vowed, "in Europe we'd have a nine thousand page regulation that describing how they may be offered in such complex detail nobody could feel they were in safe compliance."

"Ah, another pair of potential immigrants seeking freedom," April asserted. She stopped in front of an elevator and called it. "Be careful," she warned, "We are going in two levels and you will weigh about half what you are used to. Some folks are awkward at first."

"In principle that would be true," James allowed. "However we are spoiled by spacious quarters and the ability to get out and travel. We are not unaware we are of the privileged class of our society too. I enjoy knowing the Monarch even if I am a poor distant relation. It would be a very difficult decision to emigrate. I doubt you have much need of people to guard antiquities or manage charities so what would we do?" he pointed out.

"We have a professor of Medieval Music who had a similar problem," April told them. "She is a cook and manager in the cafeteria. She has been very entertaining a few times playing the keyboard on a harpsichord setting hardly anyone else has a clue how to use."

"I didn't know you felt oppressed," Helena said surprised. "You have certainly never seemed the firebrand ready to join a revolution. Just the opposite." She was bouncing on her toes a little feeling the difference in spin.

"I chaff at the little things. The speed limit along the road to our country home goes up and down with no logic. The road has so many signs instructing me what to do and what they consider dangers that I can hardly see the countryside. Do we really need some authority telling us how long a banana must be to legally be offered for sale in the store?"

"Amazing, I'm married to a dissident and never knew it."

"Free the bananas!" April offered, giggling. The door opened and they exited, cautiously.

"My God, I can actually wear high heels comfortably," Helena said amazed.

"I should like to try playing basketball at this gravity," James said. "I tried the game in college and found I had no talent for jumping. Nor dribbling or shooting," he admitted after a thoughtful pause. Helena just patted his arm.

"Now that would be something to see," April said visualizing it. "A half G compartment big enough to hold a basketball court!"

The corridor was semi-industrial, a cork-like soft floor instead of carpeting. The light strips were bare instead of indirect and muted. Some of the doors had business names and logos. April's grandpa stopped at a plain door with a plate beside it that simply said 117-C. He rang the bell and waited. When a fellow answered he said, "Member Happy Lewis and four guests." The fellow looked familiar but April didn't know his name. He had on a white dinner jacket and nodded to her grandpa. "Thank you Mr. Lewis. Follow me please."

The vestibule was an L-shaped standard Mitsubishi lock. April noticed the controls were naked rather than behind a panel. Just inside there was a sort of lectern and they were handed off to a pretty young woman who led them down a narrow aisle left between tables. The space had probably been warehousing. It looked to be about forty seats and a stand up bar along one wall. In a half G standing would be no burden, but then April saw the bar had pull down stools.

The tables seemed to be custom made to maximize the seating. The young woman went to a table clearly too large for them and released something under the edge. The table split about a third of the way down and she pushed the smaller section away on a track and locked it down.

The Home people insisted the Alphonses take the cushioned fold-down seats built into the bulkhead. Truth be known April preferred the fabric on a frame chairs common to low G levels. There was a very shallow stage, a door that must lead to a kitchen and a door with a small sign indicating it was the poker room. It was an impressive volume and represented a respectable  amount of capital or a rather large rental fee to cover.

The bar had shelves of bottles behind it that would have taken a lot of floor space, but then April spotted the illusion. It was a big screen showing tiers of bottles, but fake and above the bottles a pseudo painting of a life-size nude lady in warm gold and red colors who was so ample she bordered on chubby. The top shelf of bottles were made to look like they were in front of her helping the illusion, as did an ornate gilded frame cunningly shadowed for depth.

The overhead took advantage of the industrial height ceiling and was made to look like a glowing sky of turbulent clouds. It was used to provide most of the lighting. Their waiter showed up just then. He was young and wore a long sleeved white shirt and black slacks. He had no jacket but wore a cummerbund with a com pad and a few other items tucked in it. He had dark hair too long for p-suit work and a neat little moustache. April decided he was unusually cute.

"I am required to mention first thing that there are emergency p-suits in the cabinets above you on the bulkhead should need ever arise. With that out of the way, would you folks like drinks?"

"Does everybody like champagne?" April's grandfather asked. Nobody objected to that so he ordered an Australian and a couple platters of appetizers. The bucket came out on wheels with a  magnum and the waiter was deft with the towel and had it open quickly.

They served in the deep flutes instead of the shallow saucer type glasses. That saved room on the small table, April figured out. The waiter didn't make a big show of getting her grandpa's approval, but did hesitate to get a nod from him before proceeding. The champagne was pink and fruity, not dead dry, but not very sweet either.

The musicians came on and their leader took a moment to discuss the history of each song and who had done famous versions of it. He had a screen behind the stage and showed pix of the original musicians and some of the old clubs where the music was played.

The kitchen caught up to the bar and they got two platters in a wire frame that had a second level to conserve table space. There were oysters Rockefeller and shrimp wrapped with prosciutto,  bite sized empañadas and Thai spring rolls that were in a wrapper so thin it was transparent on one platter. The other plate was of cold things, basically an anti-pasta, but with some odd items like sweet-hot pickled watermelon rind and a few deviled eggs made blazing hot.

When the players were done with their first set their waiter appeared and asked if they wanted dinner. James and Elena were ready for a meal on their personal clock and accepted menus gratefully. April took one as much to see what they served as to order. Only Happy declined, saying he knew what he wanted.

"Waiter, you gave me a guest menu, I'd like a priced one please," James said.

"Sir, I was firmly told never to present a bill to an owner's table, so whatever you wish is with our compliments, please."

James looked at Gunny, you could practically hear the wheels turning. He likely hadn't been on home long enough to be a club owner. He looked between April's poker faced grandfather and her and hesitated. Rather than pick the wrong benefactor he diplomatically looked back down at the menu and said," That's very generous of you, thank you."

What could she do? She had no idea they'd refuse her money and she was outed. "You're welcome," April assured him.

The Alphonses took the beef tenderloin, he with garlic potatoes and she with pasta. Happy had a large bowl of seafood chowder with breadsticks, April had never tried one so she got an oyster po' boy with sweet potato fries.

Gunny was looking at the menu critically. "The lobster, is that just the tail?" he asked.

"Oh no sir. It's the whole live lobster. Most are about a kilogram but we have a few two to three kilo' available."

"Give me a big one and the cherrystone clams on the side and the roasted sweet corn."

"Would you like that steamed, grilled or cooked and then chilled?"

"Just the traditional steamed is fine."

"Butter, plain mayonnaise, or aioli?"

"Butter and butter for the corn too, please."

"Do you want the whole lobster or would you like just the tail and the claws cracked and brought to the table to make it more manageable?"

"Oh bring me the whole thing, I'm an expert at cracking them, you'll see."

"My wife and I used to go up to Maine on vacation," Gunny informed the table. "I loved the lobster fresh off the boat, they'd cook it in sea water with the corn and redskin potatoes in the same pot. Not far from where our friend is going," he said in an aside to April.

"We have never visited New England," James admitted. "We have been to the Midwest on official business. But North America has made visiting as private tourists so difficult, I doubt we'll ever have opportunity to do that."

April could have strangled Gunny for mentioning Papa-san and his mission. Was it the champagne loosening him up that easily? She'd have to watch and see if that was a pattern. The musicians did a second set and Gunny was considerate enough to crack his claws inside a napkin to mute them. He was right too, he got every morsel slick as could be, with no shell fragments flying about.

"This place is cute," Helena said. "I didn't know what to expect, but you certainly aren't roughing it up here."

"You're kind, but I imagine you are used to much more elaborate entertainment. I was just in Hawaii a month ago and I could see it was possible to go to new places every day for months and never run out. I have some friends going to the moon soon to establish a base and start a real estate endeavor. I asked one of the principal investors if he was going and he said no, he likes his hot showers and eating at the cafeteria and had no desire to go rough it for months. I guess what is luxury and what is roughing it depends a great deal on what you are used to."

"We have some relatives who have a ridiculous concept of necessity," Helena admitted, nodding. "If my sister doesn't have her favorite brand of bottled water she flails about in prolonged high drama over how life is hard."

They finished up the champagne before it was dead flat and got a pot of coffee. It was okay, but April decided if this place was going to represent her she wanted the coffee upgraded. She got key lime pie, Helena got a triple chocolate torte and her husband got spumoni. Her grandpa was content with a bourbon, neat and Gunny got a piece of open face blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream. She was starting to wonder where it all fit even as big as he was. He usually was more restrained but seemed to be allowing himself a special treat tonight.

The Alphonses thanked her again, but assured her they could find Dr. Ames in the morning thanks to the spex and her instructions. In fact they felt they could return to their hotel without any trouble. "Let me at least send Gunny with you," April asked. "My grandpa lives right by me. He can walk me home."

"Are you armed?" Gunny asked Happy, full of caution.

"Of course," he replied, sliding his tux back to show a Singh laser. "I've just been enhanced too, though I doubt I'm as fast as her yet. Jelly said he's finding out there is a follow on period after the initial infection. People keep getting faster for several months. Maybe for as much as six months, but he's not sure yet. It's too early to tell."

"Is there really any danger walking the corridors?" James asked.

"We haven't had a crime of violence in the last year that wasn't caused by an outside agent from some political entity and just a couple of those," Happy assured him. "But we value our guests and granddaughters," he said, grinning at April.

"Let's go then, before they start up again and we disrupt the next set getting up," James said. "A pleasure to meet you and I'm sure we'll see you again."

* * *

"What did Mr. Lewis mean by enhanced?" James asked Gunny in the corridor.

"The doctor you intend to visit offers a genetic modification to greatly decrease most folks' reaction time."

"Really? That's what it sounded like. We were interested in," he looked at his wife, "other services. We must inquire about his full range of treatments. Have you had this treatment?" he asked.

"I'm naturally fast," Gunny told him, not bragging, just stating the fact. "Perhaps a little faster than some of the folks with the mod."

"Do you know if that has anything to do with his hair coming in dark instead of white?" Helena wondered.

"I just assumed he had some other Life Extension Therapy done, but I don't really know," Gunny admitted. "If he wants to volunteer things like having his reflexes being enhanced that's fine, but I'd never ask about private medical things."

Ah, that was a little rebuke there, wasn't it? Helena thought, amused rather than angry.

"That's very interesting," James allowed.

* * *

"Did you see the look Miss Lewis gave her bodyguard when he mentioned their friend going somewhere in New England?" James asked his wife as he undressed.

"Oh yes, she looked like she was considering climbing over the table and slitting his throat to shut him up."

"Do you think they were name dropping with Wiggen?"

"Not a bit. I suspect that story she never went back to about the spy and the safe room was the straight stuff too."

"Did you run it on your phone for veracity?" he asked.

"Didn't have to, I could read it was fact on Gunny's face."

"He is rather readable isn't he?"

"Yes, but I suspect the world is a safer place for that."

"Do you think their friend visiting New England might have anything to do with that big boat that dropped them off?"

"I think that's a really good guess, Dear. I doubt it is just circling around waiting for them to need it again." James did surprise her sometimes by connecting things.

"Well, that is all very interesting, but I can't see it affects Spain. I think we should mind our own business and not mention any of this to Carl's snoops, don't you?"

"Our agents too easily drop a tidbit of information to other agencies trying to act as if they know more than they do to tease a little bit more out of them and not worrying nearly enough what they are stirring up. I'm starting to think these Home people are better not to provoke. If something unfortunate should happens to their boat in Maine who do you think April will remember heard something, no matter how vague, about their friend?"

"She would, wouldn't she? And she knows we have a small secret to keep in being here."

"In a heartbeat, Sweetie. And having our treatment revealed is the least of our worries. How would you like that bodyguard of hers sent out looking for you?"

"That could be, unpleasant. He has a hard look about him and he is readable, but he isn't stupid. Would you like a hand with that zipper my dear?" he asked in a softer voice.

"I think I deserve both hands," she purred.

Chapter 16

"Heather has everything ready to load for the moon," Jeff told April.

"I'm not really doing any scheduling now, Jeff. Jed Allison is doing all that now."

"Oh, I know that. He and Happy and Eddie all got a text about it. I just wanted to talk to you and tell you what is going on. It's nice to have you back. When you were down to Earth we really missed you. I get some of my best ideas talking to you," he allowed. "Now Heather and I are both away from you again. We'll leave 0800 tomorrow and land on the moon three days later. That's plenty long to be cooped up in the Happy."

"You got that right. Remember how long we were all jammed in her bringing your dad back from ISSII. I doubt you will be gone as long as that," April pointed out. "Just be careful for me please, both of you. Don't take any silly risks. Vacuum is very unforgiving. Do what my grandpa says even if it don't make sense. He didn't get to his age through all those hazardous work hours by luck."

"Oh, I will," He agreed readily. "At least nobody will be shooting at us."

Chapter17

The French Heavy Shuttle Prospérité dropped to the newly finished landing pad as if on a string. It was a bright star coming in and only for the last few tens of meters the hull and the rocket exhaust could be seen from the side. The lunar landscape seen through it shimmered in the glowing shock diamonds.

There was almost no dust raised and what little was lifted was thrown away from the shuttle at the very edge of the pad. That gave everybody on the crew watching it land a great deal of satisfaction. It had taken a great deal of hard work to make the field ready. Their first couple working days coping with the damnable dust had taken as much time as the actual work.

Heather's crew made the landing pads their first priority because the irksome debris clung by electrostatic charge to everything and added an obscuring and abrasive film to every surface, seal and view port. It  had to be cleaned away before taking off gloves and helmet or it would get inside and be even worse to clean up. Worse it itched. If their supply vessel had needed to sit down on virgin regolith the way they had done pioneering this site three days ago would have coated everything with dust for kilometers in every direction.

The area, once cleared and leveled, was sealed by fusing a thick glassy layer of the moon dust with microwaves. An angled lip deflected any exhaust or debris reaching the edge upward. A fabricating company in Armstrong promised them a cleaning robot within the month that would patrol the pads like a Zamboni on an ice rink, sweeping and cleaning the surface and patching where needed. Their single light shuttle, a glorified orbital scooter, was jacked up on a wheeled dolly and pushed by hand into the center of the first pad finished. The crew already at work on the third such square  sought shelter from the exhaust when the Prospérité landed, but headed back to work as soon as its engines shut down.

Heather was relieved to see the larger ship land precisely in the middle of the second square well away from her own precious transport a hundred meters away. The more experienced French crew had not hovered and slowly descended like her own less experienced pilot. They came in at a visible angle. The fact they were still visibly off the vertical line when only half a kilometer up had scared Heather for a moment. April's man Charles had taken a lot more time the last couple hundred meters easing them to the surface. In contrast the French ship had only pivoted fully vertical its own length from the pad and balanced over its jets, slick as catching an egg on a plate, before it eased down the last few meters. She was certain they wasted a lot less reactive mass too.

Landing in the Happy Lewis on the virgin site Heather had seen what a mess the exhaust blew away from the surface of an unimproved site. The cloud of dust shot away in every direction. She wasn't entirely sure some didn't fall over the horizon. She knew right then that the advice she'd begged from friends and business associates in the lunar bases was right on the money and essential. That was just the first of many things she would not have been properly prepared for without their help. While most of the crew was grooming the vital landing pads Heather and Happy Lewis, for whom the ship was named, were busy setting up a prefabricated moon hut and two arch shelters with a single helper.

Marked and fused roadways and pathways between all of the pads and shelters cleared of the troublesome dust would be started soon. Then it would be possible to do everything without fighting the irksome dust unless you had to go off site. They warned her the dust was even worse at night when static built up easier. But now that the French shuttle was here she let them continue work without her and hurried over. The big vessel carried another six workers from Home, a number of heavy pieces of equipment that the Happy Lewis could not lift, but most important - two big rovers they had stopped to pick up at New Kirov - far to the lunar north west.

The rovers were so vital to their efforts she worried if they could have as much life left in them as the Russians claimed for so little money. Jeff had reassured her, explaining if the Russians built them they might not be the fastest, or the prettiest, but they would still work fine long after they were ugly and worn looking. They were large machines, each easily as big as the pressure cabin of the Home Again and capable of being lived in for days at a time – if not exactly luxury accommodations.

The Russians sent one technician over her protests, saying they were selling assembled vehicles and if she insisted on her people assembling a vehicle they were not familiar with there would be no guarantee they would not be DOA. She intended to mount a rack of mini-missiles such as the Home Militia mounted in their armed merchant shuttles as soon as one of the rovers was ready to move.

She would rather not do that in front of their techie so he could carry tales back home, but she desperately wanted their warranty, so she accepted the technician. Eventually they would want the other moon bases to know their situation and that they were armed, after they were properly dug in and not so vulnerable. She could hope if the Russians knew about them maybe it would take a few weeks at least before the gossip reached the rest of the Moon bases, especially the Americans.

The man hatch was already open in the shuttle and a suited figure jumped out from a height that looked frightening to someone used to a full G and landed in an easy squat.  That wasn’t something Heather intended to try anytime soon. She was so used to switching G levels at home the lunar gravity was easy to adjust to for walking, but on Home there wasn’t any level with as low an apparent gravity as the moon.  Even on the lowest G level back home the overhead wouldn't allow the jumping and high stepping sort of hop they used to cover ground quickly here.

The figure took a few steps away and then turned back to the shuttle and called on the common frequency they had agreed on. "OK messieurs, please deploy the auxiliary loading jacks, si vous," in a feminine voice. It was a strange mix, French and the English which sounded like straight mid-western American without any accent or she would have assumed the lady was French from her use of that language.

Heather wondered if she should object as site commander. English was supposed to be the language of command and control in space and when you started mixing others in you increased the chance of misunderstanding and disaster. But the space craft was grounded now and she wasn’t sure the rule applied to operations that were not in flight. She decided to hold her objections for now since she was the new person here even if it was her operation and she was the paymaster.

The two long legs that pivoted down spread ninety degrees apart. They were not to support the weight of the ship. They were to brace away from the ship so its crane could swing cargo well away from the side without toppling it over.

The suited figure went up to one of the projecting struts and inserted some sort of locking pin hanging there on a safety cable into the mechanism. Going to the other there was a delay while she fumbled with it, then she instructed, "Rock it a bit, Commander."

The long support picked up barely enough to see it move and dropped hard. She shoved the pin so it popped through when the holes lined up and exclaimed something that sounded like "soverno!"

When she was done two more figures jumped just as casually from the high hatch. Their helmets were an odd shape so they must be crew, not any of her people. She hoped none of her crew would try such a leap uncoached. Heather was scared if she tried that she’d fall flat on her face or cartwheel end over end.

The face plates in suits were pretty rugged now, but why tempt fate? "Miss Anderson?" The one who had been first out and locked the bracing struts raised a hand to let her know it was her transmission.

Heather waved back and responded, "Heather is fine. No need to be formal with me. Welcome to the center of the moon."

"I’m Katia Kovalenok," the woman informed her, walking toward her. "English speakers sometimes prefer to call me Kathy. I expect to be able to do all the heavy assembly on each buggy in a work shift if I have some help. Then we will need a day each to fill all the expendables that were removed for transport and remount a number of antennas and such including whatever new ones you desire. Do you have anyone free to assist me or should I just start doing what I can alone?"

"I don't have anyone free except myself. The new people who came in with you all have duties pre-assigned. I hope that will be satisfactory?"

There was a noticeable pause and Heather wished she could see the woman's face through the suit faceplate, but it was a distorted mirror in the glare. She looked Heather's suit over now probably wondering why it was a flight suit instead of a heavier outdoor work suit or a general purpose unit.

"You are the site administrator, correct?" Heather could hear the doubt in her voice quite clearly.

"Yes. I'm the site administrator, owner, paymaster and high mucky muck. Consider me the feudal lord until we find out if Home will allow us to be associated politically with them," she joked.

"Oh Dear God, he didn't tell me."

"Tell you what? Is there problem?"

"Do you have com set up yet? Could I possibly make a call?"

"Sure. I can link you right now if you want."

"Yes I want to call before the Prospérité lifts, but I need to sit at a regular console and run it off my own plug in software. Can you accommodate that? I understand you'll want to isolate it. That's to be expected."

"They're still working in the hut and it will be crowded, so there is no privacy there. How about if we go in the Happy Lewis?" she asked, starting for it without a reply. "I don't think anybody is there." She called on com as they walked and said, "Happy, can you meet the new people getting off the shuttle and see them assigned?"

"This Happy - Is he the owner of the Happy Lewis then?"

"Owner? No. He had the vessel named for him as an honor. It really doesn't get confusing. You can tell from context whether you are talking about the person or the namesake ship. Honest," she assured her. Katia was dubious but kept it to herself. She could see now why ships were usually named after dead people.

They walked over to the modified scooter. It was sitting on its belly on a dolly because it was not designed to allow movement around inside under gravity. Standing on its tail the way it landed it would be horribly inconvenient inside. You'd have to rig a rope or ladder up the middle. The attitude jets were quite sufficient to lift it off the surface against lunar gravity and rotate it until the main drive is pointed at the ground if they didn't want to jack it up. In theory it could rotate to land the same way but they had landed on three rear jacks and then eased the nose over with the jets until it rested on the surface after everyone was out. It was just a little easier and safer for a novice pilot.

Everything inside was accessible with it sitting like this and the main armament in the top of the cabin was pointed at the sky. The hard points carrying two sorts of missiles were extended from the sides of the ship clear to launch also. Kathy stopped, making no pretense that she was not staring at the naked missiles.

"I have access to Jane's and I don't recognize either of those," she told Heather pointing at the two different shapes.

"We haven't shown them around much. They have to be out now because we are on alert until we are dug in better. I'm running the ship weapons board on remote through my helmet display. When we are docked they are usually folded in the recess you see behind the pylon. I know the French have images of them so I am not too concerned about the Prospérité. If you could not share the information too widely just yet it would be a kindness. We intend to mount the same suite on the rover without a flat cargo deck if there is a suitable area you could recommend. "

"I'm not sure," she hesitated, "installing weapons for a foreign power might have consequences later I'd regret. They are ship to ship?" she asked. Her voice was very tentative like she might not get an answer.

"Yes that's all we've used missiles for until now. The smaller ones there the size of a coffee flask are short range, point defense, although they could be controlled offensively. They just carry conventional metallic explosives. The ones with the bulbous heads have some legs and a fair amount of AI and sensors on their own."

"And not conventional explosives?" Kathy asked in a voice that cracked a little from that revelation. What was she getting into here?

"That's right," Heather agreed but didn't volunteer details this time. "But about your concern," Heather insisted on going back to it - "What foreign power? Those are personal property and mine to use by hiring the vessel. Home as a government has no ownership or control of them. Citizens of Home are free to arm themselves and their vessels. I have several minor partners but the clear majority of ownership of this enterprise is mine with no mortgage or liens on it by any institution and I am no state. They are mine just as simply as this is," she said drawing her Mark IV Singh laser pistol and turning it sideways held vertically for the woman's inspection, finger straight in perfect trigger discipline.

"I've never seen anyone carry a weapon in a p-suit. I hope you realize what would happen if you discharge that and breach pressure somewhere critical."

"I’m not an open sky Earthie, I live in artificial pressure every day," Heather assured her, "Home is a pretty big habitat but I don't think there is anywhere more than three barriers from vacuum. Our apartment and living quarters are right on the inner surface of the ring with ports looking on hard vacuum." She reholstered the pistol and opened the outer hatch of the coffin lock fitted into the main cargo hatch.

"I'm sorry," Heather explained, rolling inside, "the lock is configured for zero G and you have to lie down in it right now. I'm sure eventually we'll have planetary landers configured for convenience but we are making do right now." She closed the hatch and left Kathy alone outside while it cycled.

Kathy noticed she was thinking in terms of a generic planetary lander, not a lunar lander or an earth lander. How far did these people's ambitions extend?

While she was waiting for the lock to pump down she looked the ship up and down freely without Heather to see her curiosity. Aside from the obvious missiles nothing looked much different from any other vessel she had seen, until her eyes caught the paint and fancy pinstripes in shade under the ports.

There was the name of the vessel, AM Happy Lewis, in fancy script. But what made her take a deeper breath was behind the name there were three Buck Rogers stylized silhouettes of spaceships drawn. Two with view ports on the nose and one solid like a missile. She had seen nose art in books, but never on modern space craft.  Then beside the ships was a cartoonish  drawing of a satellite with an arc of decreasing sizes of the same image that formed perhaps two thirds of a circle. Inside the ring of satellites was stenciled 27. Could that really mean this one ship had destroyed twenty-seven satellites? She had heard it had killed two manned ships but had no idea they had destroyed that many sats. So the plain rocket must mean an unmanned ship, but she was determined not to ask.

She wasn't sure at all she approved of such bragging on violence. When the lock finished cycling and the green light came back on Kathy hooked an ankle over the edge, rolled in the snug opening and latched it shut. The small screen in front of her asked for her to log her use of the lock. She typed in her name on the oversize keys, glad her name didn't need any symbols that were not available. It immediately switched to a menu asking her operational status. It didn't have any suggestions so she punched in – guest worker – and entered it to see if it would accept it. The lock cycled without any further interrogation.

There was a quilted pad like a mover's blanket doubled over to roll out on inside. That  was a comfort even in a sixth G not for any worries about bruising herself, but because she didn't have to worry about  cutting or puncturing her suit on something. She closed the inner hatch carefully and waited to make sure it was pumping down before she considered herself done. The lock was always held in a state ready to receive someone from outside as anyone from that side would be more likely to have an emergency that required a quick passage.

She stood up carefully making sure she didn't bang her head on the curve of the inner hull above. The lighting was turned low and Heather, having split her suit open, was sitting in the command station and had screens active in front of her and the right hand seat also. Her helmet was racked on the headrest.

Kathy went forward, careful where she was stepping because there was no real walk strip when the ship was laid on its side, just some take-holds easy to trip over. She didn't shuck her suit but took her helmet off and started to set it on the deck, but she gave the volume an appraising look, reseated it and just lifted the faceplate back as far as it would go. Then she stopped and looked at Heather with hands on her hips frowning. "God in heaven you are a young one. I didn't know we were hired by a baby. Are you sure your momma knows you are out of the house?"

"Kathy," Heather said, looking her in the eye, "bag it. I've heard it before. This screen and keyboard are isolated and have an active pipe on public service through our accounts on Home." Heather offered. "It's an open connection so any encryption or graphic transfer besides the camera there you'll have to add yourself. If you want to use spex or a pad of your own you can plug in here," she showed her, touching the sockets.

"Or if you want a Cyrillic keyboard, hit control F6 until the keys show the right characters. All the other connections at this station are down. Do you want me to go away in the back and make some coffee to give you some privacy to talk?"

"You could be splitting the feed off and recording it anyway or have a hidden camera and mic somewhere if you wanted and I'd never know, so what is the point of going away? You're interested in what I'm concerned about aren't you? You might as well stick around," she offered.

"If that is what you think of me, that I'm a snoop, in your place I'd pack up and take a hike," Heather told her honestly.

"It's what I'm used to," the woman told her with surprising bitterness. "We are constantly monitored and everything we do analyzed to death." She stopped and looked at Heather closer where she had the suit opened, surprise growing on her face. "Those clothes, those are lunar. I thought there was an agreement not to make them available to Earthies." They were the same ballistic garments as April had for her Earth trip.

"They aren't available to Earthies. You're starting to get on my nerves a bit equating us with them. Do I need to point out we just fought a war with North America over the issue of being separate? Obviously some of our lunar friends consider us allies. Don't think the exchange is all one way either. We have some things to contribute ourselves," she said pointedly.

The Russian woman looked less certain as she punched in a com code and waited for the connection.

The fellow who answered the call surprised Heather. He was smiling like he had just finished laughing at a particularly good joke before a word was said. He was a dark haired man with massive eyebrows and a mat of thick chest hair showing in the V neck of his pull-over. Behind him were long rows of shelves piled with supplies until they hung over into the walking space. Everything was crammed in until some places it intruded on the floor. A push cart behind him had some massive piece of equipment she couldn't identify sprouting an abundance of disconnected tubes and electrical connectors.

Before he could say anything Kathy told him sharply – "English Dima, I have overseer sitting here and wish her to understand."

"Ah, polite as always, but have you asked her if she understands Russian?" he asked. There was a definite got-you in his voice. "Did she start speaking English first or did you just assume that was her preference?"

"I spoke first, but she is Nor…, she is of Home and that is what they speak so I am trying to be polite. My English is perfectly acceptable, you empty debater. I use articles even. I have a question for you. The axle cap studs are not listed in field manual. How tight are they supposed to be?" When she finished speaking she laid her finger alongside her nose in the gesture Englishmen use to say –the fix is in.

"Ah my little pumpkin, I am looking it up as we speak. Hold on now." His arms went out of sight under the camera pick-up and Heather assumed he was typing an inquiry in a computer.

"They should be stretched .16mm and in an emergency only they may be torqued to 140 N*m. Both with compensation for temperature extremes. If torqued instead of tensioned to length they must be checked every fourth twelve hour shift of operation for loosening if not safety wired. I hope you make a manual notation in your pad rather than trusting this to memory." He made the same gesture with his finger along his nose as she had.

"Don't teach Grandmother to make cheese, Demetrius. Thanks for the numbers." When she signed off she jacked her own pad in the socket Heather had offered her and sat it where they both could see. She looked over at Heather smiling.

"He's not such a bad sort but it's better not to appear too friendly in public. He will be calling right back on his own pad and using our own encryption. I won't bother to put it full screen because we don't waste much bandwidth on video when we run this private system. Also - why did you welcome me to center of the moon out on field?"

"Zero-zero. It's smack on the equator and the prime lunar meridian. That's why this is called the Central Lunar Ranches." The incoming signal chirped interrupting Heather and Katia barked a command word Heather didn't recognize. The same fellow with the big eyebrows still looked pretty happy but he wasn't at the same desk anymore. Behind him big mesh net bags with space suits and helmets hung on a wall. The image was a quarter screen, but it looked fine to Heather.

"Demetrius, what are you trying to pull here?" Kathy demanded. Do you know to whom you are selling this surplus?"

"Indeed I do my little sugar plum. Why are you concerning yourself with it? I believe I am the one whose job description includes declaring items surplus and disposing of them." He spoke much better English than her, seeming to find articles natural and not hesitating over them.

"Because you are very handy to have in your position and all of… us," she stopped and looked at Heather obviously uncomfortable to define us, "depend on you. If that little mouse of an assistant you have is elevated to your position he will never have boldness to do anything. Certainly nothing as audacious as this!"

"What have I done my little chickadee?" he asked with faux innocence, spreading his hands. "They were surplused out and the lady asked after buying them. Her bank transfer went through just fine and I have gained a nice chunk of change for our poor outpost. Good hard currency too, EuroMarks."

"Don't play innocent with me Dima. You know there is a written agreement which binds you not to not sell heavy equipment or environmental equipment that can be used for development to residents of lunar stations. Only approved governments or reps and I doubt Home is on list. When our esteemed overseer sees what you have done he is going to ship your hairy hindquarters back to Motherland, probably in restraints under arrest!"

"Dear Katia, you complain my clerk is a timid little mouse and then in the next breath complain I am too bold. You should be out assembling rovers, instead of critiquing your supervisors, but just to ease your concern the list of countries and their citizens to whom I am not permitted to sell is not by approval, it is by exclusion. And by the most amazing coincidence Home is not excluded. For that matter if their independence is suspect to you neither is North America excluded or we could never trade with Armstrong. Now if that is not enough the rule about selling such things only applies to residents of the various lunar outposts. This lady and her partners are not residents of any signatories to the compact." He shifted his gaze to Heather and explained, "They want to make sure we cannot set up as independents and stay here when our period of employment is ended. They are quite firm about not allowing anyone to continue here as anything but an employee or a soldier. Your Armstrong has allowed some to stay as independent contractors, but they still have the contract to hold over their head and never allow them to build private shelter or gain ownership of their apartments or business cubic."

"So you don't have any retirees?" Heather asked surprised. "Every blessed one of you is forced to go back to the mud ball?"

"Yes - and the contracts are written so that if we complain about it in a public way or go to the courts for redress they can cut off our pension."

"Why didn't you tell us about this? We could be trying to help you."

He spread his hands again, embarrassed. "In your own way you have been doing what helps us anyway, for your own reasons and when you are under the thumb like we are you grow cautious. Everyone who knows your weakness is another person who can find some way to use it against you. I'm sorry if this sounds paranoid, but we have cause to be wary."

"Oh, Dima" – Kathy sounded sad - even if you are technically right when our administration finds out about this they are going to cut your tour short and send you home."

"Well, do not be so sure. Our administrator is very lazy. To him the rovers are two lines on a long list. And you can be sure I will make list extra long and difficult to understand next month. In any case once I would have fretted about that much more, but you see I bought Lot-9 of Plot 1 of the Central Lunar Highland Ranches from Miss Anderson. So if I am suddenly discharged unfairly I believe I will tell them to keep their free ride back to Earth."

There was an audible gasp from Kathy. She sat looking at Dima with her mouth hanging open.

"So my little turtle dove, why don't you stop arguing with me and get to work? If you need to take an extra day with all this delay and make sure all is well with the rovers… or any other equipment our customer needs your help with, feel free to give it your famous skills. I will not schedule you for anything until you report all is well and completed there."

"Yes, supervisor," she said with a completely different tone of voice. "I apologize if I seemed insubordinate. I will give it my closest attention and render any assistance I can to Miss Anderson. I thank you for your trust in me." She disconnected and looked at Heather stunned.

"I don't understand," Heather asked her puzzled. "You gave the man a hard time until you understood what he was doing, but at the end there when you accepted it you sounded like a very different person. All of a sudden you were very respectful. Why the big change?"

"Well of course," Kathy told her. "I have always had highest regard for Demetrius," she explained. "But now he's a landowner!"

Chapter 18

The second day of assembly, Katia and Heather had the wheels back on both rovers and the air supply filled, although the filters and carbon dioxide scrubbers needed serviced before they were taken anywhere far from their new base. Heather and Katia were taking a working lunch in the rover cabin. It was actually a bit roomier than the Home Again, especially under gravity and Heather noticed Katia felt safe to take her helmet completely off in the vehicle she knew intimately when in the ship she had only felt safe to raise her faceplate.

"These are our notes on undocumented modifications and ways to maintain your rovers," she told Heather pulling the big binder down from a rack behind the number two control seat. "I suggest you scan them into an electronic document and merge them with official repair manuals as soon as possible."

The old fashioned ring binder surprised Heather. What was even more surprising was they were in English as was the official manual on disk in a pocket on the front of the binder.

"I expected the documentation would be in Russian. Not that I'm complaining you understand, but why do you have these in English?"

"We probably have a dozen different languages or dialects to deal with at New Kirov and a lot of those people don't know Russian, but we all know English. What has been frustrating is we are specifically prohibited by bureaucratic stupidity from altering official electronic repair and service manuals. We had to keep a separate record of field fixes and errors. I would not destroy this paper copy however. If anything make a second copy so you have one to keep in each vehicle. I'd keep a paper maintenance log to supplement electronic one too. Use paper that is vacuum rated and if you have an extreme power breakdown or a computer system failure you can still read it with just a hand light.

Heather leafed through slowly getting a feel for what sort of entries were made. The first tabbed section said – Maintenance Variations:

02/13/2074  - Transmission lubrication interval must be decreased to 600 hours when usage is primarily during lunar day periods. ACEA Grade E-7 5/60 commercial lube substituted for mil-spec lube with nano-Moly additive. Trans otherwise will fail before official service period due to reduced heat exchange in full lunar. Units used in mostly dark conditions can follow official service specs.

She flipped a couple pages to –  Field Service Specs:

07/01/2078  - Airlock wiring harness failure. Abrasion of sensor and stepper motor harness at opening to frame rail must be repaired as follows. After sections with exposed metal core are replaced or overlaid with insulation each separate component feed group must be fiberglass tape wound for 150mm each side of the hatch to frame break. The separate feeds formed must be taped as a bundle. The bundle must be covered with a plastic conduit at the frame/hatch gap. A suitable sleeve may be fabricated by cutting the tapered portions off a 300ml Coca-Cola bottle and splitting the resultant ribbed cylinder. The sleeve shall be applied and compressed with two worm screw steel hose clamps and by over-wrapping in an overlapping helix with fiberglass tape from the ends of the sleeve to 50mm beyond the opposite ends.

Note: Original repair inspected 11/17/2081 -  No significant visible wear.

The binder had about 300 pages of such notes. Heather could see the big rovers were as complex to maintain as a shuttle.

"Would you like another sandwich?" Heather offered. The work was much more physical than she was used to but the Russian lady seemed used to it and perhaps she could eat more. Heather was sure she'd get sleepy if she had a very heavy lunch. She had a food service pack with roast beef and turkey breast with rye or whole wheat for them to assemble sandwiches themselves and various condiments and garnishes. Katia had seemed particularly fond of the sweet pickles.

"No," she declined, looking tempted, "that is kind of you. I have to ask – do you people always eat this well or are you making a special effort to impress me?"

"This is pretty much what we would eat at Home. I'm sure there is going to be a period after we have our community started that we will have less variety. It is after all about a third cheaper to import things to LEO than the moon. But once we have enough tunnels under pressure to have room for hydroponics and some dirt gardening I expect to have fresh salad things and vegetables. You can't grow your own tomatoes or strawberries under lights in your apartment in North America," she said, frowning.

"It's illegal without a grower's license and certification and inspections. We're not going to let that sort of foolishness start here. I'm sure things like meat or fresh fruit will be expensive for a long time. Even dwarfed and forced to fruit four times a year trees take a huge volume. I don't know if we will ever produce things like our own wine or honey. But neither do we intend to be poor. I certainly hope we can afford to import a few luxuries."

"You folks are so optimistic." She seemed like she wanted to say more but held back.

"We can save some time with the fuel cells," Heather informed her, getting back to business and bringing up a subject she had been avoiding for awhile until she got a sense what sort of person the Russian lady was beneath the surface. She went back and brought a small case foreword that she had brought in when they stopped for lunch. It was about the size of a carry on airline bag and she opened it and lifted one of the two identical units inside out and laid it on the deck.

"This is a replacement for the fuel cell system. We won't need it and since it is inside the pressure hull it will give us a nice bit of recovered cubic in the back of the cabin." The tiny assembly had a sealed module like a refrigerant pump and another smaller sealed unit attached by wires and tubing inside an open rectangular frame. There was also an insulated tank with a heavy threaded cap. The engraved tag riveted on the external framework by the filler cap said – " Add minimum 98% Heavy Water to fill line only." Another tag by a pipe fitting mounted on the frame said – "Must be open to hard vacuum during operation."

Katia looked at this dubiously. The fuel cell battery was the main power for the rover, assisted by solar panels. It was about the size of two big footlockers – say three cubic meters – and the fuel tanks on the outside of the hull were probably twice that volume. This unit by contrast was about the size of the small cooler pack that held their lunch.

"Does this connect to the existing external tanks then?" she inquired.

"No this is the fuel tank now," Heather said tapping the tank with the filling instructions. It was about two liters if the insulation was not overly thick. It wasn't because it had heating coils inside to protect it from freezing.

Katia finally stopped looking at it as a whole and read the tag. She looked back at Heather with a strange look on her face. "This is a hydrolyzer then?" she inquired, tapping the small case on the bottom of the heavy water tank with an index finger.

"Right," Heather agreed.

"And this…?" she leaned a little further and tapped on the larger sealed unit, but couldn't make herself articulate what she thought.

"Is a deuterium fusion reactor with an integral energy storage device," Heather explained deadpan. Katia seemed to believe her.

"I guess I was out of line complaining about your having the ballistic clothing if you have this sort of thing to share with us Loonies." That was the first time Heather had ever heard a moon resident call themselves that. She had thought it was an insult.

"I have to be honest with you, Katia. We've shared other things but this is a sealed unit. We have shared it by giving a few to use, but the actual design and how to make them we haven't shared. If you open one of the sealed units they're supposed to go 'BOOM'. Of course my suit liner is just a gift too. We haven't been told how to make them. Fair is fair I guess."

"Proprietary – I can understand why. Still just having the use of it would be a valuable asset even without manufacturing rights. I thought about what Demetrius said and decided over lunch I'll help you mount weapons. There is an area on this rover where we had a similar system mounted, that I removed before delivery," she admitted. "There are conduits for control systems and power in place that should make mounting pylons for your little birds easy. But do you feel comfortable with me knowing as much as I will learn about your weapons by helping install them?"

"Sure, no problem, the little missiles are actually based on a Russian anti-armor weapon we reverse engineered anyway and the big ones you still won't have anything that would tell you how to interfere with their command or guidance. You aren't working with the software."

"And you don't have a similar system to mount on flatbed rover? Katia asked innocently.

"No but we have another item to mount at the front of the deck on that rover if you want to help with that. I got the impression Dima was giving you a lot of leeway to decide when you are done. The French might even have it unloaded by now if you want to take a peek at it."

"I just might if it is within my ability. I'm just a mechanic, basically, with enough electrical and computer ability to get along with support for mechanicals. Don't expect me to deal with exotics."

"No, this is an old mature system," Heather assured her. "I've already reworked the electronics for lunar conditions and the systems you would deal with are straight forward electro-mechanical. I bought a surplus Bofors 57mm auto-cannon," Heather finally revealed.

"Damn!" Katia exclaimed heartfelt. "Don't you people ever do anything subtle?"

* * *

Four days later they stood back and looked at the second rover they had designated the 'A' machine sitting with the turret for the cannon sticking up from the front of the deck. That put it almost in the middle of the rover and left a pretty good expanse of clear deck behind for hauling freight. Even in lunar gravity they had to pull help off the other crew to lift the tube into place and fasten it down. The original turret they left Earthside as too heavy to lift into orbit without spending a fortune. It had been much stealthier also with flat facets angled sharply to each side and tilted back like a chisel. The rover made no effort at all to have a low radar cross section so that would have been wasted.

Instead they had a slightly tapered wall rising from the deck and a hemispherical dome on top of the tapered cylindrical section. Two hatches opened to the rear to allow service and reloading. The servos were upgraded to a finer pitch to take advantage of improvements in both the accuracy of the LPS establishing their location and reduced variation in muzzle velocity and projectile weight with the newest ammunition.

The outside was covered with segments of the ceramic armor they could make from regolith. In this batch they had added a quantity of punch press scrap Heather had noticed and bought up at one of the fabricators they employed. The junk was about four millimeter thick titanium alloy sheet in crooked triangular pieces a bit smaller than her palm. Those internal pieces, randomly oriented, should help break up anything capable of penetrating the ceramic.

The white dome of segmented covering and the long snout of the barrel protruding over the low slung rover looked very much like a tank. Heather decided she wanted the rover to be run past whenever they had a foreign ship sitting on the pad. It wouldn't hurt for the grapevine to spread word around that they looked like they had teeth.

* * *

"Johnson, you scare me," Heather called on the com. "Are you going to bust up my rover driving like a maniac?" On the big thin screen hanging in front of her, the icon that depicted the rover speeding away to the north was much further along than the other rover icon following a similar path to the south. The topo overlay showed the southern rover if anything had smoother ground to cover.

"Just like a boss," Johnson called back. "Why aren't you more concerned I might hurt myself if I crash this thing?" he asked.

"How about me?" his partner Julie protested. They ignored her.

"The way you're strapped in you'd have to slam right into a mountainside to get hurt. But if you roll over a rock you can't clear and flip that thing over we didn't get all that many spare parts with it," Heather answered.

Katia mumbled agreement. She was done with her assembly of the rovers and just waiting a shift to see they functioned well before calling for a ride home. If there was a problem with them before they laid out the main cross roads and perimeter she'd see what she could do. But if they rolled one end over end from sheer carelessness it would be complicated getting authorization to help with that and buying and transporting major repair parts. She wished Heather was a little more emphatic in her command style.

When they looked right at the icon the screen added the information beside it that the rover was traveling at a bit more than sixty kph. Heather had been watching for several minutes and Johnson had never slowed below fifty. For one brief rush he'd taken it to eighty kph which terrified her just watching the dot creep along on a map. She never wanted to personally experience that velocity in a rover.

The one time she had driven it she had felt comfortable at a bit more than twenty kph. And that had been following tracks in the regolith someone else had already laid down. Johnson was flying over virgin ground, his plow blade dropped just enough to skim a visible flat in the soil. The bottom edge was tilted back hard so it would ride over any unexpected rocky outcroppings or seams instead of catch. The suspension was extended as far as it would reach to lift the underpan for clearance. She did want the road he was roughing out marked as quickly as possible, but they could not afford any major mishap with the equipment either.

Heather and Katia were sitting in their temporary command center – four connected moon huts  with a radio mast to keep everything line of sight. The huts were just inside the west corner of a twenty kilometer square rolled forty-five degrees from the north south orientation. The perimeter of that diamond had been plowed a bit more carefully than the straight roads to the compass points that were now being plowed from its corners.

Each of those roads would extend over a hundred kilometers and  then they would turn and plow an outer perimeter road as close to the highlands as the operator felt comfortable operating the rover. Once all four extensions were laid out and the perimeter defined she would worry about dividing off the individual ranches within.

They were concerned some bright boy at another base would see what they were doing and decide to drop in and try to stake out a claim on their plain before they could fully mark out their own selections. That would be a tremendous thorn in their side if someone had an outpost right within their community or forced them to display hostility to keep someone out.

"I just had to swing around a crater," Johnson informed her. "It took me a couple hundred meters off to the east to clear it, so there is a jog in the road." The bump in his line was visible on the map overlay.

"Don't worry about it," she insisted. "You'll probably have to do it several times. When we go back and build a real road with a base we can decide if we want to level it or keep the jog. I'm not sure how wide the final easement will be either. For a major road like these four I'm thinking four hundred meters."

"You're not cutting that off the edge of the ranch are you?" Johnson asked worried.

"No, we'll lay out the full sized parcel starting from the edge of the easement," Heather assured him. Johnson, like many of her employees, was being paid mostly in kind with a ten kilometer square plot and wanted every centimeter of it. He had already asked it be on the very edge of their community facing on the road that would extend toward the American's base.

God only knows what business venture he had in mind. It might be a long time before there was traffic between communities. Heather didn't anticipate the bases controlled by Earth governments would be thrilled to see them setting up housekeeping. In fact she was pretty sure they knew by now and were discussing what to do about it.

"Don't forget to stop and put a survey stake at the end of your run before you start on the perimeter," Heather reminded him.

"Not to worry. I'll get that in place within the centimeter," he assured her. That would be right on the central meridian that divided the face of the moon. If it was off it would be a mess later reconciling the legal descriptions with reality. No sense repeating all the mistakes that had been made on Earth laying out land sloppy and in a hurry. They had no excuse with much more accurate equipment and easier to use too.

The ten-kilometer square at the center of these four cardinal roads was centered as accurately as they could lay it on the zero meridian and the lunar equator. It would serve as a location for Jeff's proposed beanstalk. The surrounding plots of land bordering on the center would be specifically dedicated. One tract for a university, one for public services such as security and another for a hospital. One even for a park although they would have several of those on the perimeter as well and a dedicated historic monument around where two Surveyor spacecraft had touched the Lunar surface well before any human foot. Surveyor six which soft landed then lifted off again and set back down successfully when that had been a new and difficult feat. Also number four had impacted when it failed on final burn and left several pieces of wreckage to be preserved. Jeff wanted to put an elevated boardwalk in to keep tourists from trampling the site.

The Meridian road on one side was to be double wide for when there was heavy traffic up and down the beanstalk.

Heather suddenly was aware Happy Lewis was leaning over her shoulder checking the board out.

"If they can keep up even half that pace they should have our entire boundary marked off in two shifts."

"They have to stop and put survey markers in by LPS and stop for a lunch break. Working the perimeter near the hills they will slow down from just following a straight line," she reminded him.

"Weeeee!" Julie, riding with Johnson, called out as they roller-coastered over a knoll, oblivious to the open mic.

Happy raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. "Yes, but if they don't have a breakdown I still think they will make it. One twelve hour shift for each quadrant and then they can start marking out lots," Happy suggested.

"I'm scheduling one rover to start doing lots. We only have four lots paid for cash. Then there are nine to lay out that are land contract and six that are employee pay. Problem is everyone picked a different lot on the subdivision map. The lots on the perimeter will be full size plus whatever irregular shape extends toward the hills, so everybody seemed to want one of those like it was a free bonus, even you I noticed."

"Yes, but not just for the little wedge of land that runs to the bottom of the hills behind it. Happy looked a little uneasy suddenly. "You don't have a live mic do you ?" he asked. That wasn't like him at all to be secretive.

"No," she assured him and checked to make sure it was true. "I cut off the feed when you came in. Not for privacy but because I didn't want the chatter distracting them."

"Good," he relaxed. "I wanted an edge unit because you didn't seem interested in staking out any rights past the plain. I'd very much like to own a nice hill, mountain, whatever you want to call it looking down over the settlement."

"Whatever for?" Heather wondered. "It will be much more expensive to do anything with it. There are other flat lands outside this area that you can claim if you want. Nobody has any permanent installations in Mare Vaporum. You could claim the whole thing."

"It's like California," Happy explained. "The plains were all settled and the mountains were regarded as pretty worthless. Of course before they had cars to climb a hill every time you needed to go home would be slow and pretty rough on your horses too. But later, when the flatlands were all filled up, you could have privacy and a grand view by perching a house on top of one of those worthless hills looking down on the valley. Then it became pricy real estate. That's why I intend to claim the hills out past my ranch. And that way I don't have to worry about anybody perched up there snooping on me either."

Heather sighed. "The high ground always gives you the military advantage too, doesn't it?"

"Always has," Happy agreed.

"Well, that's one more task to do. I have to claim all the summits looking down on our land. How were you planning on doing it? Some of those hills I don't know if you could run a rover around the base of them or not. It gets pretty rugged in between."

"I had in mind just putting a cairn on the very top with a reflector like you are using to mark the boundaries and an insulated can with a copy of the claim and a map."

"Is that legal? Is it enough?"

"Hey, we're our own community here. If we say it's enough, it's enough."

"In that case we can claim the whole thing and tell Armstrong they have to start paying rent," she said with an evil grin.

"You're the Lady with the cannon," he admitted. "But even if you got away with it history might judge you harshly for claiming areas already used by someone. I personally would much rather see you claim a big chunk of Antarctica where nobody is using it. Even if you get an OK from the Home electorate to associate this settlement with them they are not a member of the UN and certainly not a signatory to the treaty that prohibits all exploitation and settlement on that continent."

Heather looked at him in astonishment. Her suggestion was humor – hyperbole, but he seemed dead serious about his crazy idea.

"Let's get this land deal squared away before we think about that," she asked. "Remind me about the other later, Okay?"

"Sure and after you have a rover free in about a week, I'd do a route study on the computer and start laying out a road toward Armstrong," he suggested. "If it is the best route and if you get it in first, you can make it a turnpike."

"A what?"

"A toll road. You set up a commerce gate with a wireless sensor and charge whoever wants to use your road to go to Armstrong. If they don't want to pay to use it let them fly or explore their own route. I'd claim a couple hundred meters back from each side so people don't build right up on top of you and make it impossible to widen it when you need to. I'm sure some of those eight lane expressways in California started as cow paths, years ago."

"I think that's all the ideas I can absorb today," Heather admitted. "Let's just talk about this Mare and what to do the next couple days," she pleaded.

"OK, just brainstorming," he explained. "You should hear Jeff and I when we get into it.

"Oh, I have," she assured him. "You just don't notice anything or anyone around you when you get into the gear-head stuff with him."

* * *

The third day saw the perimeter of their properties marked with a plowed line and optic and radar reflectors on a stick every hundred meters or so. The two rover shelters were finished to the point they could be pressurized if the entry port was bolted in place and if they'd owned that much air yet. There was a man lock on each but it would be a long time before they could afford a lock that would pass a rover through and allow the full volume to stay pressurized. Right now none of the other lunar bases owned a air lock big enough to pass a vehicle. But Happy and Jeff had plans for one. They were firing ceramic mix in place as they produced new batches to armor the shelters after which they would be deeply covered in broken rock and lastly loose soil.

Happy had plowed over several simple metal arches for alternate shelters and decoys if someone should decide to contest their claim and threaten them. They were open without any closure, much less pressure, or even a deeply formed floor inside. Just cleaned bedrock and gravel on the low spots. They would be needed soon anyway just to store incoming supplies and materials out of the sun.

Happy and Jeff were assembling an experimental air plant that would process oxygen and any other gaseous elements present from regolith. The process was energy intensive because all the volatiles were strongly bound in the soil. But they had solar energy to spare and the recovered hydrogen and helium3 from the solar wind would probably be sufficient to keep them on the positive side of the ledger for a long time. It was portable because it would have to be moved to fresh feed stock as the material from public areas was processed. Eventually they would need to mount it on its own rover to cruise outside their development on virgin ground. Most of their oxygen would be cracked back out of the carbon dioxide, but they had to make up losses and create an inventory for new construction.

"I think I'm done here," Katia concluded. There were no major defects in the rovers to address. "I'll call for my ride home if you are satisfied."

"More than satisfied," Heather assured her. "I appreciate the extra effort and won't forget it. I owe both you and Demetrius a favor personally beyond what we paid your administration for the rovers."

"Good, because news back home in Russia is depressing. This gives me some hope that we don't have to end up back there in that mess."

"We all feel the same way about the USNA. Here, feel free to use this station and we'll break and have some lunch after you call for a pick-up." Heather indicated the com board beside where she was working. They had three set up already in this moon hut.

Chapter 19

"That's odd," Katia said in a strange voice. The screen showed: The address you are seeking does not respond. It is withdrawn from service or not working. Please check your address and report the time and failure mode to the primary server.

"Let me call Home and see if they can connect," Heather offered. She tapped a few keys and her mom appeared wiping her hands on a towel.

"Hi mom? Would you try an address for us in New Kirov and see if you can get through? The rover mechanic who has been working for us wants to call home and we have a failure. Here's the address to paste" - she nodded to Katia, who leaned over and tapped the numerical address in for her. They watched her transpose it and lean back obviously waiting.

"Honey, I get a..." The screen blanked and cut her off, then it displayed the same no service message, except it said no relay service. That meant the trouble was in the lunar com satellites, but there should be more than one over the horizon at any one time so that made no sense. They were much more reliable than that...unless they were just turned off.

A sudden dread grabbed her gut and she snatched up the mic to call Jeff and Happy on the local radio.

"Jeff, Happy - this is an emergency. Drop whatever you are doing and proceed to the Happy Lewis and lift her. I want you running now while I finish instructing you. Don't stop to put anything away or talk to anyone. I'll take care of any explanations and putting things away. Move it!" she said in a command voice Katia was shocked she had within her.

"I'm in sight. Estimate ninety seconds to being in the lock," Happy reported, sprinting for his namesake vessel.

"Don't pump down. Spill the air and leave it ready for Jeff," she instructed.

"All hands," she said, switching to global broadcast on very low power local com, "take shelter away from the landing area and administrative huts line of sight. Rover drivers - take your units to shelter if it is in sight or head across the mare taking evasive action for incoming fire." She threw a panoramic view of the central area on the big screen with the Happy Lewis in sight like a toy in a diorama.

"Go live on rover defenses?"  Julie's voice asked.

"Negative. No emissions. Let the Happy Lewis handle it."

"I see Happy," Jeff huffed with the cadence of his running. "I'll be in the lock as soon as it is open."

"Happy, go forward to the command seat and lift on belly thrusters and accelerate a few kilometers away before you allow Jeff to leave the lock to join you."

"Roger that," was all the reply she got.

"What is going on?" Katia demanded.

"I just have a very bad feeling," Heather explained. "I can't think of any friendly explanation for shutting satellite com down. And if somebody has been watching us and decided to do something about our little venture they are not going to find our assets sitting where they were fifteen minutes ago."

"Go-go-go," she willed the scooter aloud.

"In," Jeff called.

No sooner had he said it than the ship lifted still horizontal and the main drive kicked in before it was a meter off the pad. It did not disappear like a missile launch, which would have smashed Jeff to the back of the lock, but it took off at a moderate one G and then after a pause to allow Jeff to brace himself in the coffin lock feet-down Happy announced.  "Ramping up through three G, Jeff. Bringing weapons board up passive Heather. Not radiating yet."

The ship was a dot in the black sky and then she saw it jink hard on a new course. It was far enough away now somebody could nuke the landing pads and it was safely clear.

"Targeting radar coming over the horizon," Happy calmly reported like he saw that every day. "Going ballistic. Jeff, get your butt up here on the double."

"The emitting ship is going to make a very low pass on you, Heather," Happy informed her. "If it is releasing weapons they could be separated already."

"Kill him, Happy," Heather ordered.

Katia looked at her horrified. "You don't know..." she started.

"Crap... I can't see them by eyeball but there was a flash that must be weapon separation and burn," Happy confirmed. "Belt up boy," they heard him tell Jeff.

"Secure to maneuver," Happy announced. "Jeff, you take the controls and I have the board. Bring her east about twenty degrees and accelerate at four G for the horizon and we'll cross her tail over the far side of Mare Vaporum and I'll hail her to surrender or be destroyed."

"Dear God I can't believe you are doing this," Katia said.

"Still no visual contact and we are past closest approach. Bringing up targeting radar and lidar – okay, I have contact," Happy informed them, his voice changing under the heavy acceleration. "I doubt if they can shoot over their shoulder at us. They will still have about six hundred meters a second on us when we cross their path. Computer says they are on a great circle line that goes through Armstrong. Their targeting radar is also on a USNA frequency. We will hail them on the emergency channel."

On the big screen there was a small flare of yellow light in the sky from the opposite direction the Happy Lewis had left and then nothing for ten long seconds. Then the entire half of the landing field where the scooter had been sitting erupted in a fountain of stone dust and grit filled with small flashes. It wasn't even but sprang away from the surface opposite the direction from where the flare had flashed.

"Cluster munition impact on our landing site Happy," Heather informed him. While she was still saying it the moon hut shook with a rumble that made her coffee cup walk a hands breadth across the com console surface. Katia didn't look scared - just horrified.

"USNA spacecraft. This is the Armed Merchant Happy Lewis," they heard on com, "you have ten seconds to acknowledge and surrender or you will be destroyed. Starting now," Happy informed him.

Heather and Katia looked at the clock counting off the seconds in the corner of the screen. At about eight seconds Happy said, "Target maneuvering, attempting jamming, my missiles away," he told Heather. "Idiot," he added barely audible.

"Happy Lewis, you..." began a Midwestern voice that cut off.

"Detonation... both of them," Happy immediately corrected. "One would have done the job," he lamented and Jeff cut thrust going ballistic.

"Losing line of sight in a few seconds," Happy reminded her. "Contact through Home if needed."

"Orbit, look at Armstrong Happy," Heather instructed before she lost contact.

There was a garble that might have been acknowledgment, but he was gone until he came around again. The weapons had also burst past the horizon when they caught up with the USNA ship so they had not seen them as Happy and Jeff had.

* * *

"Happy, I need you to take this thing," Jeff requested.

"What's the problem?" Happy asked suddenly tense. "You lose green lights?" he asked scanning the boards.

"No, but I don't know how to fly it. I've never studied the procedures manual or taken any of the piloting courses."

"Oh shit. I sort of forgot in the excitement. So how did you fly it two minutes ago if you can't fly it now?" Happy asked confused.

"I've seen you guys roll it on the thrusters and type a manual thrust order in the computer. This sets the thrusters on manual," he said touching a switch, "and the joystick is just like a video game set. I just eyeballed attitude out the ports and typed the command line thrust for four G and a second delay, then cut it manually. I sort of felt I had to do that much with you busy. But I haven't got the foggiest idea how to call up the navigation program and get it in a orbit going the right direction."

"Well," Happy breathed, counting how many years of luck he had just used up, "I think maybe we will buy you an instruction course when we get a chance. It's usual to at least read the course before manual ship handling in combat."

"Hey I was just flying it. You still had the comm so I wasn't scared," Jeff explained with conviction. "If I'd done something really stupid you'd have told me." The scary thing was he seemed to believe it.

* * *

"Well, we won't be line of sight again for something over a hundred minutes if he comes around real low," Heather informed Katia. "What else do we need to do?" she said screwing her face up in thought.

"You're asking me?" Katia seemed shocked. "I'm not in your line of command and I don't want to have any part of shooting at USNA spaceships!"

Heather slowly smiled at her indignation. "Be happy they didn't target these huts at the same time as the landing pad. That was another reason I was in a hurry to direct everyone. I wasn't sure we'd survive if we got hit. We're not buried very deep and have no real armor at all. I'd say it would be the height of self interest if you have any ideas about how we will get hit again or how we should react. Your little butt is very much on the line here too!"

"Santee, do a roll call on another channel and report back to me if everybody is OK," Heather spoke into her mic and flipped a couple switches.

"Heather, Johnson here. It occurred to me they may have a recon flight behind the bombing run. They would probably wait a few minutes until they can see if there is any emergency response at the impact site. I can't see them waiting a full orbit to assess their success. They'd want the information relayed to the ship doing the first run so they can make a second run if needed."

"You in the 'B' rover, Johnson?"

"Yeah, with Julie again."

"Illuminate that quadrant of the horizon to the west from where the other ship came. If you see anything coming in low in the next fifteen minutes launch a Mark III as soon as the weapon shows a solution and shut down your radar and move that rover out of location as fast as you can."

"You got it."

Heather flipped a few switches and spoke to Johnson again. "I'm relaying through your com dish to Home. If you get any radar return at all cut my link so it can't be used to target you."

"Roger Control." Johnson sounded a little less excited than before.

Heather punched in a short series of numbers and spoke again, "Heather Anderson calling Home Militia. Please reply to zero-zero on the Lunar face." She watched the clock for a ten count and repeated her request. She was in the third repeat when Jon answered from Home.

"Home Militia, Jon Davis here. What's up Heather?"

"Jon the Happy Lewis will be coming around the west side of the moon in about forty minutes. Can you give them a message for me?"

There was a pause and he replied, " Yeah we'll have about ten minutes to contact them before we go behind the Earth."

"I may get cut off any moment. Tell Happy and Jeff to do a camera run from Armstrong to Central and look at their landing field. Tell them I said to return the favor."

"That doesn't sound good, Heather. Is this going to come back and bit Home on the butt?"

"Figure I'm asking Jon my friend not Jon the head of the Militia," Heather told him. "The Japanese didn't agonize over it when they saved our butts." she snipped.

"I'm sorry..." Jon started and then Johnson cut him off.

"Incoming. Relay terminated. Missile away. We're outta here!"

Katia and Heather turned to the big screen just in time to see a small hard spark disappear to the west at a terrific acceleration.

Suddenly the screen glared around a circle on the screen blacked-out in overload. It reversed from black to brilliant white once it dropped in brightness to a level the camera could handle. It grew quickly then the expansion slowed running down through the colors of cooling until it faded out in deep red.

"Damn, you are shooting nukes!" Katia seemed awed.

Then a smaller ball of orange fire from conventional explosives expanded in a half dome out on the plain and a skirt of dirty regolith rolled out of its base, expanding even after the flash subsided.

"Wahoo..." Johnson screamed out of the speaker. "Ya missed sucker!" There was a single thump as the ground wave passed under them. It took the sand storm of lunar soil a full two minutes to pass like a grey and brown blizzard and then Heather swung the camera around and watched the wall of debris drop and recede away from them.

"Targeting radar going back up," Johnson reported. "OK - clean sky three sixty!" he reported. "Nothing up there to give a return. Radar down and maneuvering again just in case."

"That second one, was that a drone or a manned ship do you think?" Katia asked. "Would a drone be able to shoot so quickly?"

"I'm not sure," Heather admitted. "They have control of the com sats so they could run a drone. I'm just not aware of any armed drones in service. So figure manned. You're wrong you know. They aren't exactly nukes."

"Right," Katia agreed. "They just happen to make a ball of white hot plasma that must be a kilometer across when they go off."

"They are respectable. We're loading them for ten kiloton equivalent. But they use no fission and have almost no prompt radiation. They're just something different we have available."

"Whatever. Somehow I doubt the guys in that ship would appreciate the fine technical details of how they were blown to hell. So tell me. Is your buddy on Home going to relay your message? I'm not real sure if he was apologizing or arguing still when he got cut off."

"He'll do it," Heather said with confidence. "He might turn me down but I told him Jeff was on the Happy. He'd slit his wrists with a rusty hacksaw blade before he'd cross Jeff."

"This is the young guy we had breakfast with yesterday?"

"The same."

"You know, I used to think I was a judge of human nature. But when I first set foot here the other day I thought it likely that after a few weeks some magistrate from one of the other moon bases would come out with a bunch of papers telling you this was illegal and chase you off. I'd hate to be the one serving you those papers now."

"You saw how they served us - with a cluster bomb on our landing field. It was self defense. It was self defense as soon as they illuminated us with targeting radar."

"Dave Santee reporting," the speaker announced. "Everybody found cover. There is some minor damage from the ground burst, but nothing life-threatening. We're going to have to rebuild two of the landing squares, but the one will be usable as soon as it is swept. The B rover has some antenna damage and there are some radiators on the back that should be inspected after being sandblasted from that near miss. Johnson wants to come in to shelter and get that done and a new missile mounted for the one he shot. That have your OK?"

"Yes Dave, have Johnson come in and have 'A' rover in the other shelter. Pop a couple thermal decoys in the alternate shelters too. You can rearm him and whatever else he needs. I'd rather everyone stay under cover until we have contact with the Happy Lewis again. If you can't find anything useful to do in pressure take a break and get some rest. We don't know what will happen in the next few days and you may need the rest."

"I believe I was offering you a luncheon before we were so rudely interrupted?" Heather said with a smile.

"Damn you are a cold one," Katia muttered.

* * *

"Madam President," Jon explained carefully. "The lunar activities you are describing are not in any way sponsored or under the protection of Home. Except for the protection Home may decide to extend to its citizens wherever they travel. It is my understanding the area of the moon they are colonizing has no other national claimants. Unless you'd care to inform me your government has claims to the area that were not published?" He paused but there was no response. "It is at this point a private enterprise. I know citizens of Home are involved but I have no idea if any citizens of other countries are associated with the development. If you wish to charge these citizens of Home with a crime you are welcome to stand before our assembly and make a complaint and offer evidence. I assure you the citizens of Home will consider if any of their actions are within our jurisdiction and if they are a crime and vote on appropriate punishment or sanction if they are convinced."

"Mr. Davis, do you really think I am going to come to Home and stand before your electorate as a petitioner?"

"I did not mean you personally, President Wiggen. When I said 'you' I had more in mind you'd send someone like your Attorney General, or someone at least qualified to practice before the United States of North America Supreme Court since you, or they, would be addressing a judicial body of equal stature."

"You flatter yourselves." she said bitterly.

"Constantly," he agreed cheerfully.

"Whatever jurisdiction the crime took place in murder is a universal crime acknowledged by all civilized people," she insisted righteously.

"But homicide is not always murder," he reminded her. "I'd check very carefully and make sure your supposed victims didn't fire first. That would most likely make it a case of self defense, even in self-styled civilized jurisdictions."

"Do you have some evidence for such an accusation?"

"It is not even an accusation... yet. It's just that a small remark from Miss Anderson caught my ear. I'll check with the crew of the Happy Lewis when they are available in about seven minutes and see if I understood it correctly."

"Could... might you share that communication with me so I can make a personal judgment about what it could mean? It may help clarify things when I speak again with the commander of Armstrong Base."

"Miss Anderson asked me to have her ship do three things. To make a camera run of the lunar surface from Armstrong to Central, that's the short name of the real estate development they are creating. She also asked that he check their landing field. Apparently he will know what he should be checking, she didn't say. She also asked me to instruct him to 'return the favor' without a hint at what favor they had been shown. I have to ask what she expects to find on the surface between the two outposts? That is an unusually long distance to travel by rover. If there is some group or force traveling to them unannounced you could see where they would suspect it was not a friendly gesture? You might ask your commander what favor they might want to return. And why the com satellites in lunar orbit are down. Please don't take it as a threat, but from personal experience with the Singh clan, if your people illuminated them with targeting radar or lidar when they flew over I wouldn't give an plastic deciyuan for his chances of living more than seconds. I'd consider it suicide to do that myself."

"Com is down for the moon? But my commander called me just fine a few minutes ago to protest his ship's destruction and he indicated some group was  fomenting unrest in Armstrong that is creating problems for him. Apparently people not reporting for their duty shifts. He didn't say anything about com being down."

"They have control of it. Obviously the system isn't down - to them."

"So you intend to communicate this message to the ship not knowing if it will precipitate more hostile action?"

"I certainly do. I have confidence in my friends that if they have resorted to violence or do so again today they have cause. I know Jeff Singh well and I can say with confidence the young man has discipline. He is not one to strike out first in anger or frustration. If I am wrong, Madam, I will stand to trial as a conspirator with them. I'm that confident in them to trust my reputation and freedom to their character. Can you say the same of your moon base commander?" This time there was a pause before she answered.

"We're like two parents whose children have had a row at school and we're both sure our darling couldn't be in the wrong without even knowing the dispute. I don't think it's productive to keep sparring like this until we both have more information. I'll speak with you later Mr. Davis," and she disconnected.

Her face had less a hard look and more of a worried look at the end, Jon thought with satisfaction. He looked at the corner of his screen and there were less than two minutes until he could call the Happy Lewis.

* * *

"Happy Lewis this is Home com, please respond."

"Hey Jon, I didn't expect to hear from you. What's up big guy?"

"How does it feel to fly a ship with your own name on it? Can the computer tell which of you your number two is talking to?"

"No problem. Jeff always addresses the ship by 'Happy Lewis' but I'm just Happy when I'm not Hey-you".

"Hey, you - you have a message from Heather," and he related it. Then he asked, "Care to tell me what she is looking for on the surface and what favor she wants returned?

"No idea what she expects from the camera run. I'm assuming she wants the field checked for ships. We went out of line of sight before she could give me detailed instructions, but I'd have done that much on my own initiative. They cluster bombed our landing area maybe two minutes after we lifted. Turnabout would be fair play don't ya think?"

"I was just on com with President Wiggen. She's pretty worked up you took out their ship. Screaming bloody murder, literally. Central knocked another ship out of the sky behind you too. Of course they see Home as being behind it if Home people did it - as if every one of you is somehow an agent for our agendas."

"Crap I'm getting slow. I should have thought they'd have a follow-on. I guess we should just sit still and let them shoot our asses off. That would be so much more convenient."

"So - they did shoot first?"

"Cluster bombed our field," Happy confirmed again.

"That's what I suspected and even told Wiggen to consider that possibility first. I backed you guys and I'm satisfied it was the right thing to do now," Jon told him.

"We're going to drop low past Armstrong like we are landing then flip and climb out hard just before crossing their sky to get down where we can take a real good look."

"Look? Or if they have traffic sitting on their field are you going to take it out?"

"I believe that is current operational information Jon. I don't think my commander would appreciate me sharing that with you."

"You think I'd warn Wiggen?"

"Nah - Not you Jon, but I don't think you could call her and get the info to Armstrong even if you wanted. We are about seven minutes out from visual on Armstrong. Heather would  just expect better operational security of me even if we aren't real military. It's common sense."

And we are about to go behind Earth from you, Happy," Jon informed him.

"What I want to know is what made them decide to attack us?" Happy asked him. "They didn't try any legal action or threats at all. It doesn't make sense. If you figure that one out give me another call."

"Maybe there will be a rover visible headed for central in your photo run," Jon suggested. "They might have wanted to isolate you and make you feel vulnerable so when they show up and demand you vacate you cave right in."

"If they think that they don't know this crew. If they had caught anyone working in the ship and killed them they could kiss Armstrong goodbye."

The matter-of-fact certainty of the statement made goose bumps up Jon's neck. He knew Happy well enough to know he hadn't misspoke. If the Happy Lewis was destroyed with lose of life he was saying Heather still had the means without her ship to take Armstrong Base out a fifth of the way across the lunar face. Jon wasn't sure how, but he believed him.

"Carrier signal dropping off. Happy out."

* * *

"Jeff, watch the computer work through the maneuver and give me a verbal count when we come up on our burn to climb out. I don't like talking with it like you kids do."

"What marks Happy?"

"Thirty seconds, fifteen seconds and five."

"Aye, aye."

Happy looked at him to see if he was being cute, but he looked serious.

They were traveling tail first and there was a long hard shove at their back and then the ship flipped over on autopilot, belly to the sky and looking forward again. The lunar landscape flowed under them seeming faster as they got lower and it was obvious they were aimed at a point below the horizon. That horizon line was close enough they seemed doomed to crash. Some sharp peaks flashed under them frighteningly close and they were so low they couldn't see clear sky anymore unless they rolled back over. At the end of a plain they could see the tiny shapes of manmade structures right where they were aimed.

"Thirty seconds - mark," Jeff called off.

Happy zoomed in on his biggest screen and the fat shape of a transport was sitting on jacks away from the buildings. He designated it with a stylus and selected the smaller Russian styled missile they carried by keying the numeral one. Before he could release it the screen overlaid a yellow symbol on the nearest dome shaped building indicating it was painting them with millimeter range radar. The sort used for target acquisition and missile guidance. He designated it as target two and was about to assign another small missile when the ship gave a shuddering lurch and their cabin air exited with a explosive >POOM< that hurt their ears. Most of the bank of circuit breakers above them suddenly popped up as one and turned from green to red. It had to be a laser breach. A missile strike would have left them an expanding debris field.

Happy slapped his face shield home hard against the air gushing out of his suit and heard the valve roar full open to refill it. He took the time to turn his head to see for sure Jeff had sealed his too. The ship was spinning so it was hard to turn his head back and harder yet to force his hand back in the brace to the key pad and stab the key for two that designated the bigger weapon for the radar source instead of his original intent. Being fired on had stripped any restraint he'd had away.

He thumbed ENTER just as Jeff called "Fifteen seconds!" The lurch of the missiles leaving the pylon was barely felt before the auto pilot overrode the auto rotate program which had responded to a laser attack. They were so close that the flare of the ten kiloton weapon impacting the landing field control dome filled their windows with white glare before the ship had even fully checked it's rotation.

The smaller and faster missile must have reached the ship sitting on the field first. But if it had the much smaller flash was lost in the wild spinning and struggle to key in the final commands. They'd check the video later. They should be safe to hold attitude for burn. He didn't think their laser would have any fire control left after a ten kiloton weapon struck their radar.

"Five seconds," Jeff called off calmly as the Happy stopped belly down again and rolled her nose up for a vertical burn away from the approaching surface. When the five G burn kicked them in the butt nothing had ever felt so good. The ship's fall carried it below a kilometer before it's thrust started it back up for the sky.

I'm too old for this, Happy thought, struggling to breathe against the push.

As they climbed out there was a brief rattle of debris against the hull as they flew through the fringe of dirt blown high by the bigger missile. It wasn't heard with cabin pressure blown but they felt it like taking a ground car over a gravel patch. Nothing was big enough to take any systems down.

When the pressure finally let off he told Jeff, "You did a hell of a job."

"I just counted them off like you wanted," Jeff seemed surprised at the praise.

"Yeah, with the ship spinning and taking fire, blowing pressure,  and weapons detonating out the front view. You have any idea how many people would have been too busy screaming – 'We're all going to dieeee!' to do a count?"

"Gee, I'd feel terrible if I did that," Jeff said, unbelieving.

Happy was glad his helmet hid his smile. "Why don't you go back and see what they hit," he suggested. "It must not have been too bad or we would have broken up under that much acceleration."

After the kid was gone he had a nice case of delayed shakes and got it under control before Jeff came back.

"They took us right through the crapper."

"How bad?"

"Oh about one by two but real ragged,"

"Well better the toilet than a fusion generator," Happy pointed out. It's more ragged than he thinks, or he missed some other holes, Happy thought privately, maybe out the opposite side too. The cabin lost its pressure in no more than two seconds. It must be at least a five centimeter hole to bleed down that fast. But he refrained from scolding the boy, or sending him back to check the opposite side. "OK, see if the camera arms will still deploy like they were programmed."

Jeff checked out the ports visually to see the telescopes seemed to be unfolded properly and checked the data stream to see something was going in memory at the right rate. Then he isolated a single frame and made sure it looked clear and in focus. Everything seemed to be working well and he reported to Happy.

"Good. We'll run the cameras right up until we need to fold the 'scopes in to brake for Central. That will still cover most of the route. I don't want to stress the ship by running a higher thrust than we already have. This old guy doesn't need any more stress either."

The orbit was quickly boring, the cameras working away, the ship maintaining its own attitude. Happy leaned back and his pose said he didn't want any chatter. Jeff got a satellite feed and looked at the news services.

Keywords lunar and Armstrong yielded nothing but a three day old notice that Fairbanks Aviation won a bid for detachable pressurized storage containers for lunar deployment.

A fourth grader in Mississippi was taken into DHS custody at school for asserting that President Wiggen was indeed, a "poopy head".

A junior at Jefferson High School in Montpelier Vermont was expelled when she refused to cover her naturally red hair which the administrators deemed a distraction.

Inner city high school students in New York City staged a strike over wages. They remained in class and took instruction, but turned in all state standardized tests unmarked.

Nothing interested Jeff much, so he put on a music feed, careful not to send it to Happy.

The terminator had passed across Central while they were gone and they folded their telescope arms in, flipped tail first and made a long three G burn that took them down into the lunar night. Happy and Jeff both watched the program run down smoothly until they reached a hover fifty meters from the ground.  Happy let it fall a full thirty meters before he gave a sharp blast from the main engine, then a smaller burst , a pause, one last small cough and he shut the main down entirely and let it sink against the small attitude thrusters until it squatted on the rear jacks compressing them. When he cut the thrusters it rebounded slightly on the suspension. Time from the autopilot cut out to touch down - less than thirty seconds. Jeff was impressed.

The 'A' Rover was there and pulled up closer, its floods illuminating the landing pad. Two suited figures rushed a wheeled dolly out of sight on their belly side.

"Go ahead and tip her over on the cart Happy," Johnson called on local com. "We have the guys standing back with a line on the thing and if you tip a little off the line they will pull it centered when you go down."

Happy eased the attitude jets joystick-forward until the nose dipped off vertical, then quickly eased off as it tipped past the balance point and started the slow fall in a sixth G. When it was past about fifty degrees he pulled back until the fall slowed and then, when the hills came into view in their ports, pulled harder until somewhere around ten degrees from horizontal he stopped the fall entirely and had to ease off and back on a few times. The nose settled the last little bit in jerks until they heard the belly contact the cart and felt it move differently rocking across the pivot point. It seesawed twice slowly in the low gravity and settled with both ends sticking out supported in the middle on the wheeled stand.

"Not bad," Johnson admitted. "You didn't bend it in the middle."

"Next time I'll just rotate from a hover to horizontal as I come in and skip this silly landing on the rear jacks and tipping it over," Happy threatened. "We're not under pressure, so we'll open the lock and come straight out. We have some battle damage port side and I'd like to go around the side and see it in the floods from your rover."

"I'll join you and Julie will move the rover," Johnson offered.

They shut the power down and went back with a hand torch and opened both doors of the coffin lock. When they rolled out Johnson was there to give them a hand out and help them stand without catching on anything. They walked to the nose in the bright flood lamps of the rover, then when Julie backed away and her lights swung away. Happy turned his flashlight back on and they walked carefully three abreast back down the other side of the ship, shining the light down on the landing pad that was still cluttered with debris from the attack. When they got to the dolly he flicked off his lamp. Julie had come around in a wide circle and the bright head lamps and flood lamps on the roof swung in and filled the darkness.

Happy stood staring, but his brain couldn't jump from what he expected to what he was seeing. The hole was ragged as Jeff had said. It had charred curls of corrugated carbon fiber and sheet metal vaporized away and the condensed vapor was a shiny smear down the outside of the ship. It was about one by two, but meters instead of the centimeters he assumed. The toilet and holding tank, storage cabinets, tool locker and galley, along with the whole left missile pylon were all gone in a black void that opened the whole side of the ship from one frame rail to the next. Melted ends of control cables dangled in the hole where what they served was gone – vaporized. The gentle gravity let Jeff and Johnson catch Happy as he fainted and slowly collapsed forward without a word.

"What's the matter? Was he hurt?" Johnson asked desperately checking his suit pressure and bio readouts that all read fine.

"I don't know," Jeff admitted. "He's pretty old. Maybe the stress of it all just caught up with him. Let's get him inside the moon huts and let them check him out."

Chapter 20

When Happy woke up it was not to a white hospital room with antiseptic smell. He was laying on a hard table with a corrugated metal ceiling arched overhead, the nasty taste and gunpowder smell of gritty lunar dust that rode in on equipment no matter how carefully you cleaned things, mixed with the sharp smell of vinegar and garlic. He turned his head and Julie was sitting holding an over-stuffed sandwich and taking another bite of a huge dill pickle. She shouldn't do that, he thought. Her suit will smell like garlic in a few days. But damn, it smelled good, flooding his mouth with a rush of saliva.

"Well, welcome back to reality such as it is," she said when she managed to swallow. "You OK? You need a barf bag or anything?" she asked at the look on his face. "I was told to watch the monitor they put on you," she explained.

"Where is Jeff?" Happy croaked, dry mouthed. "I need to kill him," he said matter-of-factly.

"Uh...Maybe you'd like to talk to Heather first? she suggested. "Looking around and realizing she was alone with this old lunatic.

"That's OK," he said sitting up and snatching the pickle out of her hand. "I don't need any help for one witless teenager." He took a big bite and it was just as good as it smelled and masked the nasty dust taste. He offered it back but she waved it away and checked she had a free line of retreat to the door. He was still in his suit with the helmet and gloves off. There was a stick on sensor on the back of his hand and he could feel one under his ear. He peeled them off carefully.

"I thought I heard you," Johnson called from the door. "You gave us a scare. What happened? Have you fainted like this before?"

"No, but I've never had a hole blown in my space craft half its width. The idiot child told me cheerfully that there was a hole blown through the toilet 'one by two' and didn't specify any blessed unit of size!
I went back expecting  a hole I couldn't put my fist through and there was a chasm I could jump clean through. No way that thing should have flown. It should have busted in two like a rotten stick. I can't believe there were enough connections whole to control it," he explained.

"We made all the control circuits triply redundant," Jeff reminded him from the doorway.

The pickle sailed right through the space where his head had been before he ducked and ran.

"Damn it Happy we don't have much in the way of supplies and you think you can start a food fight?" Julie yelled at him. "I'm going to go get that pickle and wash it off. We have no idea when anybody is going to bring in more food with our neighbors dropping cluster bombs on our field. In the mean time - grow up!" she said in a tone that made both Happy and Johnson cringe back from her. Then she stormed out to rescue the pickle.

"Umm... sorry if I was a little moody," Happy allowed. It wasn't often as the oldest person around anyone reamed him out. He especially hated it when they were right. "Have I missed anything?" he finally asked the embarrassed silence.

"Nah - if you feel steady enough, come on in the other hut," Johnson invited. "They're just looking at the camera run you guys made. You were only out a few minutes."

Happy followed through the tunnel connecting to the moon hut that would be their clinic when they really had one to the administrative hut. There was no lock between them, only a pressure partition that could be sealed. Heather and Jeff were sitting in the fragile looking frame and cloth sling chairs that were designed for lunar gravity. The big screen hanging on the wall behind them had several video frames isolated and displayed already.

Heather looked over her shoulder at them. "You scared the crap out of us Happy. Glad to see you vertical. We have enough other problems right here," she looked at the screen and the cursor drew a circle around one of the frames.

"What am I looking at?" Happy asked. Nothing jumped into any familiar pattern.

"These," she pointed at several elongated dark shapes, "are rovers, well, the shadows from them actually. However we can't imagine why they would send more than one or two if they were sending a military team to run us off. This would be most of their vehicles and it would mean they stopped exploration and most of the scientific work at Armstrong that needs these vehicles. It looks like they are rolling in columns but Jeff here thinks they are towing a line of trailers or something and only the front vehicle is a rover."

"That's still seven rovers," Happy pointed out, looking at the shadows.

"Yeah." Katia considered it thoughtfully. "I go to Armstrong all the time," she explained. "They number their rovers and paint it on the top and smaller on each side. I pretty sure I've seen mid-twenties. Twenty-five or twenty-six, so this would be a quarter or a third of their fleet. Plus stuff like tank trucks, shuttle tow tractors, freight tractors to unload the shuttles and recovery vehicles that aren't numbered because they don't go out in virgin territory. They stick right around the base. I don't think that they would be stupid enough to send all their rovers off in one expedition. If they lost them all they'd be in big trouble."

"What would they need big trailers to haul?" Julie wondered.

"I don't know. Trailers are not that common. They have a few to carry bulky items off a supply shuttle, but most freight that needs pressure comes in containerized and they carry the container on a flatbed to a supply dome and hook it right up to pressure and power. Just like docking a ship. It's like adding a room to the warehouse and they don't have to unload by hand. Some of the living quarters are the same way. Like a travel trailer. They dock it on a common hallway, jack it level and that's it - no hazardous construction work to do in a suit."

"Heather, have you finished looking along the whole track we photographed for you, or did you stop when you found this group?" Happy asked.

"We just started at the near end and worked back. This bunch has been rolling for about sixteen hours if they have gone the same speed from the start."

"So they started well before they launched to take out our landing field?"

"Well, sure. But what are you thinking?"

"Humor me please and continue scanning the photo corridor all the way back until we started."

"OK." Heather broke the remaining recording into three time tracks and scrolled them in three windows beside each other. Near the end of the last track they stopped it. If it had been any closer to Armstrong they would have overflown them before the cameras were activated. There were the same indistinct shapes but throwing long dark shadows. Their discipline was obviously different. None of them were in columns so it was obvious each had to be a separate powered vehicle.

Charles, their other pilot, stepped forward from the bunch hanging back and looked closely at the screen.

"I've seen a formation like that before," he informed Heather. "I used to fly anti-armor fan platforms for the USNA. Somebody from Armstrong knows how to disperse an armored column across a plain so they are not bunched up or in any pattern that makes hitting them from the air easy. That's a bunch of vehicles arrayed for battle whatever they are."

"That's nine," Katia counted. "They're nuts to send so many. It didn't leave the base much for just basic housekeeping."

"And how far behind the others are they?" Heather asked.

Jeff noted the time slots and distances. "The first bunch are sixteen hours out and have a bit more than twelve hours to get here. The second group, by checking the first and last frame to determine speed, are about six hours out of Armstrong. They are going a lot faster but will not catch up to the first group until they are well out of the hills on our plain. I'm thinking they are in pursuit. Is that what you are thinking Happy?"

"Damn straight it is. That's why we got bombed. The first bunch is coming here and the others don't want them to. They probably have some crazy idea we are expecting them - maybe even put them up to leaving. They wanted to make sure we couldn't intervene for them."

"Oh - crap..." Heather muttered. "I never pictured anything like this happening."

"How many people with a lunar address did you sell these ranches to Heather? Katia wanted to know.

"Just four. Three from Armstrong and your buddy."

"Well, I'll bet all three from Armstrong are in that front group. And maybe some friends and family. You have any restrictions on how many people can occupy a ranch or how they can use it?"

"No of course not," Heather was indignant. "We have some covenants that you can't shadow your neighbor without permission and you can't excavate in such a way as to make your neighbor's land subside and you can't deny your neighbors the right to over-fly above five hundred meters to gain access to their property. You have to follow flight rules to lift a shuttle off your land giving notice on public channels, but we don't even intend to make people use the port if they want to land on their own property. No stupid needless regulations."

"Then I'm guessing some of your ranches are about to be occupied by rather extended families," Katia said.

"But, we're not ready for them. None of the lot markers are laid out and we have no city services or an air plant or water reserve."

"You better hope they brought what they need for themselves. I'd say about the only service you might start sweating is law enforcement. Because it looks to me like whoever is following them will probably roll in close behind your owners and demand the right to cart them right back to Armstrong. They may even have arrest warrants. You might think about whether you are going to get involved in that or decide it's none of your business. And they are arriving so close to each other you won't have a lot of time to talk to them before the second group gets here. No I take that back. They will catch up with each other out on our plain before they get here to the center and headquarters. If you want to be involved you'll have to ride out to meet them."

"The way they acted, bombing our landing pad, don't be surprised if the bunch chasing them come in shooting instead of talking," Easy predicted.

"We can't wait that long," Heather decided. Katia was startled by the change. Heather's voice had the same ring it did when she ordered Jeff and Happy to lift their ship before the attack.

"Take the rovers out and plow the boundaries of the lots our Armstrong customers bought. Then the Russian gentleman's plot. I'm going to take the Happy Lewis and sit down in front of this first group approaching and find out what the Devil is going on. Johnson, you take your time and don't bust your rover. We have a day and a half and there is no need to hurry and take chances. Julie take the other. Pick your own assistants. Charles and Happy you are our pilots. Happy will land. I saw how slick he did it today."

"No." Happy interrupted.

"What do you mean no? Are you still woozy from your faint? Do you want Charles to take it out?"

"Nobody should take it out. I don't want to hear another word about it until you walk out with me an take a look at it with your own eyes."

"It got here in one piece. How bad can it be? How am I going to contact these people? Do you want to deal with it here when they roll up at our doorstep?" Heather insisted.

"We'll figure out something but the Happy Lewis is not going to fly. I'm asking you to have enough respect for my experience to come out and see the damage for yourself."

* * *

"That is pretty ugly," Heather admitted, standing with the floodlights behind her looking at the huge hole.

"You don't know but something vital is cracked and just needs stressed a couple more times before it falls apart and the whole thing could disintegrate in flight. Some vital control could have two paths dead and be running on one connection. All it would take is single stripped wire shifting under high G and shorting out and we'd lose the whole thing," Happy warned her.

"Okay," she sighed. "Let's go brainstorm. There has to be some way to deal with this before we have a small war right here on our mare."

* * *

"If the 'B' rover meets them a four hour drive out from our mare how far behind will the pursuing group be? Heather demanded.

"Assuming  both groups maintained the exact same speed there should still be a good ninety minute separation at that point." Jeff assured her, finger on the map.

"And Home will be in position to talk when we meet them?"

"If not at first within five to ten minutes and again before the second group shows up."

"OK, Jeff, I'd like you to call Jon so he anticipates our call. Tell him we're going out and meet the first bunch and find out what's going on. See if Wiggen has called him again or if he has any other new information. We'll just have to play it by ear. If we have Home for relay maybe we can talk sense to someone. If not, well let's hope it doesn't go past that."

"Happy I'd like you to come along. Your comment about your experience is valid. I'd like the benefit of it. Charles I know you are April's man on site and should be responsible for the scooter, but Jeff is more familiar with its design. I'd appreciate if you'd allow him help you to verify all the critical control paths and do a jury-rig brace job to get it back to Home for repair. I realize I bypassed you when I sent Happy and Jeff to do an emergency lift. I'll be honest with you. I know them and I don't know you as well. Would you have moved as fast as they did for me?"

"Maybe not," he admitted. "I might have insisted on asking a few questions. I never had the impression we were under military discipline so I might have balked. But seeing how dead on your gut feeling was I hope I'd have the sense to jump when you say jump now," he grinned, "and as the old saying goes, ask - how high? - on the way up."

"Thanks for your honesty."

"I'm going out to meet the first group. The buyers have a contract with me and I want to make sure we can get things settled quickly without relaying back and forth through Home. And what I hate to say but must - if the second group is a threat to not just this first bunch driving toward us, but our settlement too, I intend to stop them. That's why I'm taking the 'B' rover with the auto-cannon. Julie can still be marking out the lots in case our buyers are here to move in and against all good judgment I want Johnson to drive us, because if survival dictates speed over good sense, then much as I hate to admit it, he's the best."

Johnson just smiled at the compliment, unusually restrained.

"I won't ask if you will shoot," Katia said, "not after I saw you use the missiles. But I helped assemble your gun. I think we did a good job, but before you trust your life to it I wish you'd test it."

"That's a good idea. I'll do that before we need it."

"When you are satisfied it's safe, use your own judgment and lift the Happy for Home," she instructed Charles. "There are only three seats but anybody that wants to bug out with him... First come, first served. Now we have to get some sleep before we go out."

* * *

Katia was waiting for Heather after her too brief nap. It made her wonder if the woman had slept at all. The real surprise was she wanted to come along.

"I thought you didn't want to be identified with us outlaws?"

"I'm stuck here for who knows how long and you aren't complaining. I doubt if the French or anybody else will fly in here if there may be hostilities. Can I really not return your hospitality? I'm thinking I should safe guard Dima's interest in his land too. You might have trouble with the rover away from base and I'm the best tech here for it. Besides I have as much curiosity as anyone, as to what we are going to find out there."

* * *

They headed west making the first part of a dog-leg around the mountains to the northwest that was the only route from Armstrong. When they were thirty kilometers away the peaks were well above the horizon to their right on radar. The ragged boundary where no stars were visible betrayed them also.

"Time to test the gun as you suggested," Heather reminded Katia. "Faceplates sealed and test integrity. We're going to pump down to 50% of norm. Johnson, park and lock it ninety degrees to the north and set shocks for maximum stiffness and a one stroke recovery for recoil. How do we look for navigation? Are they still giving us an accurate feed off the LPS sats?" One fear they had was the Americans would not cut off the navigational sats but spoof the signal so they had a false location. Apparently they still needed the feed themselves. So far they had been checking their progress against details on a chart on their biggest screen.

"We passed a distinctive set of micro-craters two kilometers back. So far we are dead on," Johnson assured her. A micro-crater was any that didn't show on the older set of charts with a ten meter resolution. The newest they were using had a half meter resolution and they had to zoom in tight to pick out details they could see out the ports.

"I'm cranking the first shot back to six hundred meters per second to ease the recoil," Heather explained. "We'll shoot a high trajectory at one peak and then drop the tube and put another round into the neighboring mountain with direct fire at a thousand meters a second. The camera will laser check the range and record the shot. We're spacing them for time on target."

"Suspension is set," Johnson reported.

"Write these setting in as standard for firing the cannon sitting still. We should have a single hot key to set it and a warning on the screen if we engage the cannon to fire without setting the suspension."

Heather set the ports for minimum transmission so the area lit by their driving lights disappeared. She cut the lights and reminded everybody. "Set helmets for maximum tint. Between the two we should get four ten thousandths transmission. I don't want flash blobbies or a chance I'd damage my retina."

"Sounds smart," Johnson agreed. "I'm ready."

Happy and Katia called out ready too.

The first shot was more like hitting a sharp bump rolling and there was not so much a boom as a loud mechanical noise of the action cycling. The rail around the gun deck had expanded metal for the first half meter from the bottom so they heard the empty casing hit and roll on the deck above. While it was still rolling they felt the servos swing the tube down and transverse to the second target. The screen showed solid black with a contrasting reticle and a momentary dot of light as the range finder worked.

This time the angle of fire didn't push them down, it rocked them sideways hard. Hard enough to yank their heads uncomfortably on the end of their neck and tilt the rover a good three or four degrees on the suspension. By the time it stopped moving she looked at the ballistic computer and it displayed eight seconds since the direct fire. They all watched until twenty seconds and then looked up at the edge of the port. Heather resisted the urge to blink, not wanting to miss it.

The points of light were still pretty bright just for an instant and still slightly visible for maybe a half second. They appeared as close to simultaneous as human senses could tell. By the time she cleared the port and her helmet of the tint the fireballs were dimming through orange. In the weak gravity and vacuum the fireballs didn't lift noticeably, instead expanding in a dome against the mountain sides illuminating the slope around it and then in not much more than a second no longer illuminated the mountain sides and they were a jagged black silhouette against the stars again. There were two slight blobs on their vision but not as bad as a camera flash.

"That will probably show up on the seismic instruments,"  Katia remarked.

"Yeah, Johnson thought about that too. Those are the ten kiloton loads. But the shock coming from two points kilometers apart may make them think it is natural. We're more concerned there is a sat watch for comet impacts. Even tiny ones make a pretty good flash. No way they will believe it is natural if somebody puts both data sets together."

"Too bad you don't have any of the normal shells with just conventional explosive," Katia said. "They would be small enough to go undetected."

"Oh, we have a couple dozen of those loaded in the back in a spare magazine," Heather explained. "We wanted them along in case we need to use the cannon for direct fire like a tank. If they figure out all the fuss is us shooting maybe the idiots will have a little respect. We'll have to come back in the day and look, but I bet that left a mark on the mountain plain to see. Even with no atmosphere to transmit concussion how close do you want to be to an explosion like that?"

"Honestly?" Katia thought about it carefully. "I'd want a half kilometer with the view ports shuttered or turned away from the blast and everybody inside sealed up in their suits. Being pumped down like you just did for us would be very prudent too. You know, now that you made me think about it I'd suggest the shells be fuzed for impact. That way the primary fragments from the rock will damage rovers way past the thermal effects or plasma shock wave."

"We're ahead of you there. That's how all the unguided shells in the one magazine are programmed."

"And I feel a lot safer in a good Russian rover," Katia added, reaching out to thump the bulkhead with a gloved fist. The sound was muted with the low pressure and sealed suits. "The American ones are built like a beer can," she sneered.

Johnson limbered the suspension back to normal and turned back to their heading. They hadn't gone a kilometer before they stopped and Heather went out and climbed the ladder to the deck above. Otherwise, the noise of the two empty shell casings rolling back and forth and banging against the rails was going to drive them insane. After that they let the pressure back to normal so they could lift their faceplates.

Another hour saw them with open plain to their right as far as they could see by starlight when they halted and shut down the driving lights. The driving lights gave a sense of depth that couldn't be matched with night vision. They didn't have goggles, but the forward camera could be cranked up until the gain let Johnson drive using the monitor instead of looking out the view port. Trying to drive with it though had resulted in being banged around by bumps and dips that he could see and avoid using the lamps. The monitor however was the only way to see out past the glare of the lamps.

The mountains were mostly over the horizon behind on their right. A few peaks to the northwest defined the extreme Easterly straight  line from Armstrong that the coming Americans could take. The column of rovers should appear somewhere between them and the horizon and execute a left turn to follow approximately along the track they'd come. They stopped and several used the toilet with the rover no longer pitching and rolling. They took the opportunity to set some lunch out. Then they waited.

"Johnson, do you think you could find something to park behind?"

"What do you have in mind?" he asked Heather.

"Something like a small crater or a rock sticking up we can be behind to shield us from direct fire and leave less of our outline sticking up to see."

Johnson looked at the sat maps and ran the topo profiles on the screen. He zoomed in on a couple likely features and pulled detail out of the database.

"How about a dip? I have a dip that is three meters lower in the center than for two hundred meters in every direction. We can pull up the far side until we can see and then when anything shows back in until just the turret shows and watch through the gun sight."

"Sounds good. Do it."

Chapter 21

Johnson maneuvered a few hundred meters to the southwest and stopped flipping the lights off.

"We're at the bottom now," he explained showing them on the map. They looked up a slight slope to the front and could only see about three hundred yards. It was smooth ground with nothing sticking up bigger than a suit helmet. "Watch what happens when I pull forward."

They pulled forward about two hundred yards. The view suddenly extended out on the low light monitor as they climbed the slope. A few new stars also came into view as the close false horizon dropped. The already dim cabin lights Heather adjusted down all the way dark.

About twenty minutes later Heather announced, "I think I saw something move." She pivoted the gun mount around and zoomed in so they were looking at maybe fifteen degrees of the horizon with the sighting camera. After a few seconds a spot of light moved below the horizon and she adjusted and zoomed in better.

They watched three trains of vehicles climb a slight rise and fall away from sight again. They were too far away to see details. There was glare off their sides from the lights of the rovers following but no details behind the flare of headlights.

"They're aimed just a hair to our left," Johnson pointed out on the screen. "That means they are dead on the track that we plotted back at the huts." He added that line in red on the map and it passed ahead of them about two kilometers out.

"This is the rise we saw the lead elements on," Johnson pointed out on the map. "They should make closest approach to us if they don't turn in twelve minutes."

"Johnson, back down in your hollow. Katia, I'd like you to help him as soon as he stops and change the left magazine. They're in the locker marked '3'. I don't think we are going to need the guided shells for anti-orbital work, or they would have been back at us with another bombing run by now. I'd like the conventional shells mounted to replace the left magazine. The other ones are just too powerful for direct fire if we pull up close to talk to each other."

Johnson had backed up briskly and had it stopped almost as soon as Heather was done talking.

"I think we can both fit the lock if we lie opposite from each other," Katia suggested. "I hate to waste air and we don't have time to pump down."

They could hear the two bumping around to fit. "That got it." Johnson said. "Just reach around me and give the hatch a tug. It's within a centimeter of closing and our suits will give that much."

"OK I have a green light for seal. I'll pump it down for two minutes. One of those magazines can be changed in a minute in Lunar gravity. We have lots of time."

It was a long two minutes. Finally they heard the outer hatch open and footsteps faintly on the ladder. The sounds of the locker opening were loud, but the latches and magazine change on the gun itself were a whisper. When they got back in the lock was harder to close with their suits puffed out more. Eight minutes had passed before Johnson was back in his seat frost condensing on his suit. They could hear him in the audio channel breathing hard.

"Sit easy," Heather told him. "Catch your breath. I can pull it forward now and we'll see how they are doing."

Heather left the lamps off and eased forward in the dark. They'd backed up straight and she just pulled forward in the dark trusting the ground was flat enough from their inspection. Almost back to their previous position the pools of light in front of the lead rover were easily visible by eyeball and two more off to the right behind him. They watched him pass dead ahead and then when he was past a few hundred meters he turned left and took a course that would pass on to their rear.

"You going to hail him?" Johnson asked.

"Give them a minute and let's have as many in sight as possible before we reveal ourselves." The rovers cooperated, the lead units slowing down to make a wide turn. They could see the reason as the trailers behind were spaced out with long links between them and it didn't look like the front wheels were free to turn with the tow tongue, so they would resist making a very sharp turn.

In fact the trains bunched up beside each other, going much slower. They appeared to want to stay close until all of them had completed the awkward maneuver. Heather checked the scanner searching the radio spectrum and found the frequency on which they were chatting, setting her own radio to it.

"I had a little shuddering there. I think you guys further back should cut a bigger radius even. How about you Ted?" some stranger transmitted.

"It started to chatter on me a little and I gave it a bit more power. I think too slow might be worse than too fast. I just don't want to tip a wagon over out here finding out for sure. You want me to take lead for awhile?"

"Yeah, my eyes are tired. Ease ahead and I'd like to watch the turn until everybody is through it. Swing wide outside our tracks and keep it down under ten kilometers an hour when you turn folks. We're a bit more than an hour out from Central's territory. Another hour should put us in radio range of their offices."

Heather flipped a switch and took the feed from her helmet mic alone. Just for insurance she laid the cross hairs of the cannon on the lead rover right in the middle. She kept the laser range finder from actuating but elevated the muzzle for two point four kilometers. She could be way off in her estimate and the round would still take out the driveline running in the bottom part of the rover.

"American rover. This is Heather Anderson from Central. Would you kindly stand down for a moment while we determine your identity and intentions? I must also ask you to please refrain from illuminating me with lidar or targeting radar or I will fire on you."

"Jeez! - you scared the shit outta me. Hey, easy on shooting anything. We have our families in these road trains and we haven't got anything to shoot back with anyway. I mean, I think Jack has a plain old pistol, but nothing that has targeting systems like you're talking about lady. I'm stopping. You guys behind. Bring it to a stop if you aren't in the middle of your turn."

The lead two trains eased to a halt and the third following slowed and stopped as soon as it's train was straight behind it.

"Go down to them, or ask 'em to come up here to us?" Johnson asked.

"They'd have to walk or uncouple a rover from the train. It would appear they're not very maneuverable. Take us down but make it showy without looking reckless and let me make a transmission first." She flipped back to her usual frequency and keyed to talk.

"Rover 'B' pulling forward to ID and parley with the lead elements. Maintain emissions discipline."

Johnson looked funny at her as he gunned it and brought the driving lights back up, but Happy had a smile at her bluff. As she'd asked Johnson managed to get it up to eighty kilometers an hour briefly before braking. At that speed the rover threw up a rooster tail of regolith and just looked fast. According to Katia the American rovers couldn't pull as much speed. He came to a halt ten meters from the American rover. The Russian rover towered over the other and that was even before the ceramic armored dome on the deck for the cannon.

Heather made sure the cannon barrel was not pointed right at the rover. No reason to be threatening. Even close up there was nothing that looked like a weapons system.

"Would one or two of you care to come have a chat with us?" Heather invited. "It looks like our cabin is a lot roomier and we'd be pleased to offer you refreshments."

"I'm Ted Hedley in the second rover," the radio announced. "I'm one of your buyers for a ranch. Dakota Benton I'd suggest you have come also. She is another customer of yours in the lead rover. You have a lock on that thing or do you have to pump down for us?"

"We have a coffin lock that cycles pretty quickly. Are both of you coffee drinkers? I'll put on a fresh pot."

"That sounds nice, real nice. I just have to ask. Are we coming back here or are we being arrested? I'll be over either way, I'm not arguing facing a friggin tank, but I have to figure out who to shift for a driver if I'm not coming back to drive."

"Mr. Hedley, I'm sorry we had to appear so untrusting. Now that we know who you are let me assure you we have no intention of arresting anyone in your party. If you decide at this point not to come over I will not even impede your leaving. However let me tell you two facts of which you may not be aware and I think you'll forgive my caution and want to come speak with us. First, you are being pursued by another group of rovers which will catch up with your group before you reach our administrative area at Central. Secondly, we were subject to a cluster munition bombardment of our field in an attempt to remove our ship shortly after you started your journey to us."

"Crap," another voice said on the circuit, "I thought we took enough stuff apart and left them short enough on fuel it would take them at least a full day to get a force on our tail."

"Apparently whomever you are speaking of was more resourceful than you thought. While I can't blame you with any certainty for precipitating the attack we experienced, the timing is quite suspect. It might have been wiser to have given us notice you were coming," Heather suggested.

"I'm Jed," the voice identified itself. "It was pretty hard to do that. The administration owns all com at Armstrong. There simply isn't such a thing as a public net or computer or phone. No way to communicate is privately owned. So everything is subject to monitoring and all encryption is forbidden. They couldn't do it on Earth, or even on the orbitals. But it was one of the things they made sure of when they set up Armstrong. It's not something you'd think to ask when you hire on either. You just assume if you've had access to public systems all your life that they'll always be available at home. At least I have never met anybody smart enough to have asked before they signed a contract."

"I see."

The first suited figure was already walking around their front in their floodlights. He was craning his head making a frank appraisal of the cannon tube that was dipped a bit from above. He hesitated there until a second smaller figure joined him from the other rover and they moved around the side looking for the lock.

Heather and Happy moved back from the command chairs and opened a couple folding chairs that looked fragile in the lunar gravity. The two passenger chairs swiveled around and the last two folding chairs were for their guests. Despite their simple sling and tube design they were very comfortable in a sixth gravity.

Heather and Happy took their helmets off to be hospitable. Katia and Johnson kept theirs on for operational safety without being told. Introductions took so little time the coffee was still brewing, so Heather started their meeting.

"So first, " Heather started, "what do the forces pursuing you intend to do when they catch up?"

Dakota was a woman with cheekbones that suggested she might carry some blood to match her name and she spoke.

"Arrest us for theft and hold us for administrative punishment for not showing up for our shifts. We'll be subject to removal to Earth for breaking our contracts and blacklisted for hire with the theft counts against us."

"What did you steal?"

"Everything you see. Everything we need to survive. The only private property we are allowed to hold is our household things, clothing, entertainment electronics and cooking things. Residents of Armstrong are not allowed to import or manufacture pressure suits or environmental equipment or private housing. Doesn't matter if you offer cash for old worn out equipment that is being scrapped. They'll cut it up and take the loss rather than let us get a foothold where we aren't completely dependent on them."

"I'm going to be on the radio in a minute with Home and perhaps if they'll talk with me your base administrator or his Earth superiors. If they offer to let you keep your essential equipment can you pay for it?"

"Most of it. We're paid well and there isn't anything to spend it on in Armstrong. Most of us go home when we're shipped back well off and some of us were well to do before we ever came to the moon. The rovers would probably have to go back. We might pool funds and buy one or two if they gave us a fair price. Two of them were reserve rovers with so many hours on them they weren't supposed to be taken further from Armstrong than you could walk with one reserve bottle of air. Truth is we left them short of nothing. We took as little as we could and left them more to work with per capita than we allowed ourselves."

"That's assuming we have access to our funds," Ted Hedley pointed out. "We handle most of our funds electronically. They can freeze your accounts if you have a warrant out against you. There's not much cash on the moon and not much opportunity to bring it in. Crap, it's hard to find enough cash to run a decent poker game. We sit and write IOU markers and square up later."

"Are these folks armed so they can force you to return against your will? Heather asked. She could see Happy to the side and his eyes narrowed. It was an ugly look she hadn't often seen on her grandpa's face before.

"Enough. The police department has a couple pistols and several rifles. Not all of our folk know it but they have a half dozen RPGs too. Nothing like your tank though," he said shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it was real even sitting in it.

"I can assure you we will not be foolish enough to allow them to get in range to use a rocket propelled grenade," Heather promised them. "We have the advantage for applying force. What concerns me is I want to be in the right on this matter in my own mind. I don't want to have someone later challenge my morals on the issue and not have an answer for them."

"We were framed by law, well not really law...We are framed by regulation that has the power of law so we were at their mercy," Dakota explained. "There was never any way we could be safe from being shipped back to the Hell Hole."

"The principle at law is usually to call such action mischief by decree," Happy explained. "That is you have a behavior you don't like and you create a law to prohibit it. It's almost as vile a way of using the power of the judiciary as ex post facto law. That is basically making something illegal retroactively. Neither is the sort of action you expect of a government that makes a big deal of what a paragon of freedom and liberty they are in the world."

"Are you a lawyer?" Ted asked.

"No, at present in my nation we don't have any lawyers. Everything is put before the citizens at large to judge. The first fellow who suggests we need lawyers had better be joking, or I will challenge him to a duel and put a bullet between his beady little eyes."

"I see... then all I can say is, good shooting, sir."

"My partners and I usually call it the Mud Ball," Heather acknowledged. "I think we're on the same page there. So you feel you were not exactly slaves. You got wages and supplies, but you were in a state almost like indenture. Your personal freedom of movement and communications, not to mention privacy, was limited way beyond what you regard as reasonable. You were not free to stay in what was to you your home. Do you think that would be a fair way of putting it?"

Dakota and Ted looked at each other and nodded yes more at each other than at Heather. It was a weary, bone-tired look.

"It seems so wrong I'm disposed to do something about it, but I just wonder if I'm biting off too much. I'm a real estate developer. I'm not a head of state, because we don't have a state yet. Now it's true I was hoping we could appeal before the citizens of Home like Happy was talking about and propose we have an alliance. Either as an extension of Home or as an independent entity," she explained.

"But that's pretty hard for me to do before we have any citizens. I have to be on the com negotiating in a couple minutes and even if you guys want to form a nation we don't have time to hold conferences and vote on what our laws will be and it's certain the other ranch owners will have their own ideas when they buy in. I just don't see how I can make it sound like it has any rational basis if I challenge them."

"I do," Ted Hedley said in the strangest voice. "I know how, but you may think I'm nuts," he told them standing up. "I just have to know one thing for sure. Is that a real gun on top of this rover or are you faking us out?"

His face was so contorted with emotion Heather was afraid of him and she saw Happy had his hand on his pistol ready to draw. She'd somehow managed to keep from reaching for her pistol, but it was hard. Ted was standing not much more than a meter away with a crazed look in his eye and it wouldn't take much of a rush before he'd be on her even in the low gravity. If he thought he could get control of the rover and it's weapons he might give it a go. They were in a pretty desperate situation.

"It's real Ted and the pistol Happy has his hand on is very much real too, as is the one strapped to my leg. I mention that because you're scaring me a little. You look pretty spaced out and as much as I think you've been treated badly I'll burn you down like a dog if you rush me."

"No, no, quite the opposite indeed," he assured them and took a deep breath and rolled his head back looking at the overhead. "I'm going to step closer to you. If your buddy wants to draw a bead on me and be ready to shoot... uh, burn me? He's welcome. I understand. You'll understand what going on in a moment. Are you recording?"

Heather nodded yes.

"I Robert Hedley, being of sound mind and of my free will renounce and sever my allegiance to the United States of North America. I swear fealty to Heather Anderson as vassal to serve Her as my Lady and seek the protection of Her strong hand. I submit myself and my family to Her justice and pledge my life, my lands and my treasure to Her service when She calls me." Then he stepped forward and dropped to one knee, looking down at the deck.

Everybody else looked at each other over him stunned.

"He's flipped. Can I do that?" Heather asked Happy.

"You are the lady with the cannon," Happy pointed out. "You might consider what will happen in a month or in six months. Monarchs have a tendency to end their careers suddenly and with very poor prospects for extended retirement. If the North Americans decide an intense round of nuclear bombing is the way to end your rule things might get rough. On the other hand I suspect if you asked that boyfriend of yours what else he has besides the war shots in your cannon rounds, he might scare the crap out of all of us and force us into making nice-nice with each other for fear of pissing him off."

"Your cannon rounds are something special?" Dakota asked warily.

"They are loaded for ten kiloton equivalent," Heather admitted. "Some with guidance a bit more. We've refrained from building bigger ones because they aren't very efficient and it sends the wrong message."

"How many do you have? Six? Ten? A dozen?" Dakota demanded.

"Oh no, we have...a few hundred loaded up in the magazines right now," she said with a dismissive gesture, not wanting to be exact.

"Then you aren't just a lady with a cannon," Dakota marveled, "you are a nuclear power."

"Not exactly," Heather insisted. "They aren't nukes, they're just similar in the effect when they go 'boom'... oh, get up," she told Ted, irritated. "I don't have a sword or a scepter to thump on your shoulder. If I did I'd probably box you around the ears with it. We have to talk about this quickly, but your knee will give out on the deck faster than I'll allow myself to be rushed into this craziness."

"Yes, M'lady," he agreed and took his seat again.

"There is another detail you are not aware off," Happy informed them. "When they bombed the landing field at Central they did not catch our ship on the ground. We destroyed their ship and a follow-on vessel of some sort. We also counter raided their field and when they fired on us I destroyed a transport sitting on their field. I also put one of the ten kiloton weapons into their control dome that was directing fire at us. So we already have some significant commitment to hostilities. Three ships gone and the base damaged. Unfortunately our ship took damage also and when we left our base to meet you they were directed to withdraw it to Home for repairs."

"Three is all the ships we had at Armstrong since they lost one in orbit. They've been there since the war and if they lift anything from Earth it's supposed to be unarmed or they risk being back at war with Home under terms of the peace treaty," Dakota pointed out.

"Yes, but our ship is away and it's uncertain when it will be repaired and back, so at best we're even up for ships," Heather said. They aren't supposed to lift armed ships, but as a practical matter we don't have the ability to check every ship lifting so they could get them here past Home. They'd just have to deal with the political after effect of doing so, which wouldn't help us."

"However the cannon is capable of directing fire against orbital targets and we have a couple missile systems on the rovers that can engage space targets too." Happy explained.

"What about the others with you? Ted is willing to accept me as... queen," she said, obviously feeling unreal about it. Can you ask the others very quickly their opinion?"

"I can, but I'm also willing to trust my household to you. We didn't plan this but it makes sense to me too. Between us Ted and I we have over half the people from Armstrong. If the others want to go back to servitude let them. A monarch is a monarch if they have even one subject. Between the two of us you'd have fourteen."

"What about you three?" Heather asked Katia, Johnson and Happy. "You willing to fight the force from Armstrong if I decide to stop them?"

"I'm a citizen of Home," Happy reminded her. "I'm helping you first as a favor to April, but I'm an employee of your firm and I've already blown away two ships and attacked a sovereign nation for you. Home hasn't passed a law saying I can't serve a foreign nation anyway, so it doesn't matter to me. As long as the land grants and pay keep coming I'm 'Happy'. If you are going to operate as a state I wouldn't mind if you want to grants letters of marque while we're at it. I'd much rather capture ships for spoil than blow them to hell and gone."

"What Happy said," Johnson assured her. "I knew we might fight when we drove out here. Keep the pay coming and we mercenaries will take care of business for you."

"I'm just along for the ride," Katia said, hands spread wide to show her innocence. "I'm supposed to see that the rovers run fine and I've done a damn fine job if I do say so myself. If I get a sudden urge to stay when it comes time to go home we'll talk about it then. Sort of depends on if you keep kicking butt," she admitted.

"I have to call Home," Heather insisted looking at the time. "Johnson, see if you can get Jon for me and bring up a display of the projected route for the other group out of Armstrong and have it update real time." Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Jon here," A deep rich, theatrical voice jarred her back fully awake. Heather checked the time quickly. It had only been a few minutes, but she had drifted off far enough to lose her time sense. The kind of tension they were operating under was exhausting. Jon was at his desk head as always completely bare. She didn't know if he was bald or if he shaved it. It only accentuated the fact he his neck went down without any taper. The effect was like a squat fireplug sitting on his shoulders.

"Jon, I'm out on what is effectively our western border. I have a bunch of refugees here who are fleeing Armstrong and several of them have bought land from us so it's perfectly reasonable they'd be coming here. Problem is there are several rovers pursuing them from Armstrong and these people expect that group will be trying to arrest them and force them to return. I'm not disposed to let them grab people from our settlement for stupid administrative type offenses when they've already been shooting at us unprovoked. I believe we have destroyed every armed USNA ship on the Moon, so we don't face a threat there anymore. All the more reason to give their ground forces no chance to harm us. If you have contacts high enough to get these goons to hold off we need to talk to them fast because we are maybe an hour from having another hostile contact."

"I've already called President Wiggen while you were talking," Jon assured her. "She was quick before to call me and assume and accuse Home of somehow being behind the destruction of their ships. So I expect she'll take my call. I've made clear you are independent, but I also reserved some interest because we are concerned about how any citizens of Home are treated. I also expressed personal confidence that you and Jeff are not unreasonable aggressors. I think the more the facts of the matter filter out the clearer that will become. Do you have what you need to hold out against their rover force?"

"Yes, I'd rather not, but I can engage them and defeat them. For that matter I could destroy Armstrong from here. Happy made clear how you took our side with Wiggen when he came in. Can you be a conduit again to allow us to talk and not drag Home in deeper?"

"I think so. However we may want to get in deeper. Just because you are not here doesn't mean the North Americans have license to take pot shots at our citizens off Home. That's something they need to understand quickly if they have any such illusions. It may not have been spelled out in our treaty, but only because it's so obvious it shouldn't have to be detailed. I'll call a special session of the voters if I need to on that issue. Just a moment I have that call."

"President Wiggen, I have Heather Anderson of Lunar Central on com. May I suggest we split the screen in a conference and discuss the issues?"

"Perhaps, if she is simply a private citizen and not acting for Home why should I give her the consideration I'd give a head of state?"

Jon wrinkled his nose up like he'd smelled something bad. "From where I'm sitting it appears your forces fired on her without provocation. If that's your government's policy to allow your remote commanders discretion to massacre civilians and not review their actions then I don't see why we'd give you any respect as head of such a state. If you want a reason I'd think the simple fact her forces have defeated your  space forces on the moon and may engage their ground forces in the next couple hours seems sufficient reason," he suggested.

"She frankly assures me she can defeat them too. Why would you risk that happening? That seems sufficient reason for a little respect. You appear to have a very tenuous hold on your lunar presence even without Home becoming involved and despite what you think, we are not...yet. Let me say it plainly. You don't want us to get involved," Jon told her.

"I've given no orders to anyone at Armstrong to take action against other interests on the Moon. I haven't had any new reports from my commander at Armstrong which I took for a good thing. If he was close to engaging in hostilities with some outside force I'd have expected to have heard from him. But given your complaints I'm asking my staff right now to have him com me and I'll bring him in this conference and you may bring Ms. Anderson in."

Jon split the screen and brought Heather in.

"So," President Wiggen paused, taking time to inspect Heather's pressure suit and the rover interior, "let me hear your theory of how I should deal with you, child."

Heather ignored the snub and calmed herself. She double checked carefully that Johnson was showing only her on the camera pickup and nothing that should stay hidden.

"I'd suggest you regard me as a warlord, Madam President. I know your government has treated with such often enough in the past. I'd think it offers nothing new or difficult," That was a little dig, but entirely true.

"I have significant force of arms at my disposal and a group of civilians from Armstrong have fled to my territory asking my protection. Given their story of how they have been treated I'm disposed to offer them sanctuary. Several of them own land here so I could hardly deny them entry even if I refused to offer protection. I'm told the North Americans coming along behind have heavier weapons available that could damage our vehicles or habitat so I will not allow them opportunity to fire first as they did several times yesterday."

"I will engage and destroy them here on our border before they come over the horizon if they are not withdrawn. I respectfully ask you to issue such orders. Financially, anything our refugees owe can be negotiated after, but their blood is not on the table. I won't allow them to be arrested over administrative, not criminal matters."

"Do these people have the means to make restitution if that is the concern? Usually people described as refugees are destitute."

"They claim they have funds, but if not I pledge my personal fortune bond," Heather said, as if that closed the matter.

"And that's what? Lots on a lunar plain we could have as easy claimed or can pick another area right now and have the same thing for free?"

Heather lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "I'd think your intelligence services would lay out better information at your fingertips when you speak on com with a person. If they had investigated properly you'd know I have interests off Luna. I'm not a poor person by any means.

"I have a note here," President Wiggen said. It was an actual paper note handed her and they could see the top edge of it as she read it.

"I'm informed the commander of Armstrong is off base and unavailable." She read it as a question, disbelieving and then looked off camera and angrily asked someone unseen, "Then why don't you have whoever was left in charge on the com waiting for me?" Whatever the reply they couldn't hear, but President Wiggen looked furious and said, "Remove him and make damn sure his replacement is smart enough not to hang up on the White House."

"You, madam, appear to no longer have control of your forces here on the moon," Heather said, not angry but just matter of fact. "I thank you for your time and speaking with me and you too Jon, but I have critical things to do here and this conference doesn't look like it can be productive. Good day to you," she said and disconnected.

Everyone was looking at her expectantly.

"You folks might as well go ahead to Central. By the time you are in radio range they should have your ranch boundaries laid out. I sure hope you are self sufficient for the short term, because we don't have much help to offer yet."

"We are, but if you are going to deal with the bunch from Armstrong I'd like to stay and witness for the group," Dakota asked. "We have an extra driver in my train and they're almost there anyway."

"Fine," Heather agreed, "if you can ride in a sling chair belted against the bulkhead. We don't have any extra permanent seats."

"It's not that far compared to what we just traveled. I'll be fine," but the young woman looked very distressed.

"You're rather ambivalent," Heather observed. "Are you people sure you want to be saved?"

"You have to understand. We know every one of those people coming after us. We somehow thought we'd get away to your settlement and they wouldn't be able to come after us, or if they did you'd turn them away. We didn't know the idiots were going to shoot at you!"

He'd been quiet for so long, but Happy spoke up. "You know what's even worse about it?"

Both of the Americans shook their heads no.

"They have control of sat com, so they know that they lost three ships and their control dome at Armstrong and they still haven't turned back." Happy shook his head, but it was in disbelief. "They might know they hit the Happy Lewis, but they can't be sure she went down or is unflyable. Their position is untenable so they should retreat. What the heck is wrong with these people? Anybody with a lick of sense would have turned back."

"Well, again, we know them," Dakota said.

"The commander, Jack Loesher, never made a mistake in his life," Ted interrupted angrily. "He's a control freak and wildly optimistic that Murphy will never visit him. The sort that as a child would defiantly protest his innocence of the empty cookie jar with crumbs on his face. Not the sort of boss you want in a Lunar environment where you have to plan that things will go wrong. And when they do, he's the sort who will do anything in the world to cover up and especially cover his own butt. Is it any wonder, seeing how stubborn he is, we are running away from his little paradise?"

"Get on back to your rover," Heather told him. "I want to leave this spot as soon as I run our fire mission and I want you safely clear of this area then too."

"Thank you," Ted said and headed for the airlock.

"A moment," Happy said sharply. "Heather, are you accepting Ted's oath or not? I think you owe him a yes or no and I want it on record so we know what the basis of our actions are later."

"Yes. That's what I told President Wiggen. For better or for worse I've declared myself a warlord. So yes Ted, you have the shelter of the strong hand or arm or whatever of a teenage girl with a old cannon and a very shot-up spaceship."

"My Lady," he smiled. "Younger women than you have set a throne and directed armies without a regent or husband. I'm a student of history. I could see you were in command here before I offered my service. Do you still want to bonk me on the shoulder with something?" he offered. "The ceremony was called the accolade," he told her.

"With what, my silly little pistol?"

"Ceremonies are important," Happy insisted. "An ancient form was to clasp your hands like in prayer and the Lord would put his hands on each side to show control. No device needed. Why not adopt that custom?"

Ted turned back and offered his hands. "Do you want me to repeat the whole thing?"

"No I think it would be diminished by repetition," Heather said. She put her much smaller hands on each side and said,  "I accept your service." The rest of them shocked her by applauding politely. She couldn't even tell who started it.

"Thank you," he said, moving to leave again, but it was different now.

"I'll offer the same deal," Dakota said with her hands out. "I'm not sure I could repeat it word for word."

"He speaks very prettily and dramatically, doesn't he? I'll run the black box recording and print it out for you," Heather chuckled. "I suspect we'll need it again, I take your service too," she affirmed and held the woman's hands still for a moment. This time Ted got to clap.

When Dakota withdrew with Happy to rig her seat Heather sat silent for a moment Johnson looking at her funny. The weird thing was she felt different. She was publicly responsible for these people. Happy was right, ceremonies really did matter.

Chapter 22

The road trains started up again and filed past their ports. Some were rather interesting combinations of living quarters and storage containers. The designers who had developed the modular concept of lunar construction never considered just how easy it made stealing an entire building instead of some of the contents. For a couple at the rear they’d run out of rolling carriages so they were on skis.

"I'd like some advice here," Heather requested. "What are your thoughts on this follow-on group and how they will behave?"

"You remember what Charles said?" Happy reminded them. "They are spread out like somebody knew what they were doing. Maybe somebody that had military experience with armor. My bet is once they heard we could shoot back they opened the separation up as much as they felt comfortable."

"As Ted said, the commander is a control freak. I don't think he would let the rear elements get out of his sight and just relay instructions to them by radio," Dakota offered.

"If I wanted to keep my rovers line of sight I would want the rear not to fall back more than about a kilometer," Heather said. "More than that you'd start losing them in the dips and contours too often."

"You have a cannon and the plain is fairly flat. Couldn't you just sit and wait for them to drive up and then open fire? How could they get close enough to use an RPG on you?" Dakota asked.

"Okay, say I do that," Heather allowed. "I sit in a dip like I did with you guys and wait. If the lead rovers get within a kilometer I open fire, because I don't want to open fire with ten kiloton shells at a few hundred meters. We'd blow ourselves up too. I don't have enough practice to want to use the conventional shells except if we have to approach a rover to check for survivors or to do salvage. If I have six of the nine in sight and manage to shoot them before they can run away I still could have three out there almost two kilometers away. They can run different directions and hide behind rocks and in dips. They can put flankers out on foot to ambush us with the RPGs. There's entirely too much chance one of them will get lucky and bag us instead of the other way around."

Katia spoke up too. "And we have no idea if they have sufficient fuel to return to Armstrong. If they lose us out here they may have no choice but to still follow us back to Central and wait until we are off guard to raid us. If we don't know we'd have to set a permanent guard and watch. They could get in close with the rover and then infiltrate us on foot. Better to make a clean sweep if we can."

"We know approximately where they are," Johnson pointed the plot out on the big screen. "They will have plotted on their maps that they will catch up with the others before they get to our administrative area at Central. Any intercept should be fine as long as they don't have time to disperse into their ranches and dig in."

"But we don't know if anything happened to slow them down. They could have had mechanical problems and stopped for an unknown time." Heather theorized."

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, Dakota?"

"I can't imagine Jack being afraid of us. So I'm pretty sure he'll just follow our tracks. If we'd known he was following we'd have set up an ambush of some sort, but he'd never give us that much credit. Doesn't that make things simpler for you?"

"If that's true, we know where we saw the road trains come over that rise on the map about twenty kilometers away. We can lay a fire mission on them when we see the lead element," Johnson suggested.

"No," Heather said. "We can watch that hill from where we stopped, go ahead and position us back there right in our tracks Johnson, but we watch their lights and wait until the last rover has cleared that hill. Then we lay a barrage on them only a few kilometers ahead. That's getting close. I'd rather shoot them over the horizon. But this is much more certain. And we don't waste rounds covering a huge area if they haven't spread out. Questions? Suggestions?"

"The shutters for our ports..." Katia spoke. "If you undog them and swing them down you can prop them up with the lock down bar like an awning. I'd do that and then turn away after you fire. At sixteen kilometers we may still have rocks fall from the blasts and I'd rather take it on the shutters than the glass."

"Sounds like a plan," Heather agreed. "You EV and do that when we stop."

Johnson had taken them on a long loop back into the dip and followed their old tracks right to the spot from which they'd sighted the fleeing rovers before.

"It looks like forty minutes until they hit that hill from our over flight data if they've kept their speed unchanged. That's 03:27:00. I've got a hundred bucks says we'll see their lights before then," Johnson offered.

"You're on," Katia accepted. "No way they didn't stop along the way for something. A full day of riding in a fast rover will beat you half to death."

"Dakota - you want a piece of this?"

"Not me. This Jack can push them pretty hard. If anybody broke down he might just leave them. Won't even surprise me even if they are early."

"When you're through placing bets, I'd like several patterns worked out for firing. If they are still bunched up in a five hundred meter square, or if they are spread out in twice that area," Heather told him.

"Okay, But I'll do a narrow pattern too. If he spreads out I'd bet on him stringing the group out lengthwise. It's harder and it takes practice to keep a bunch of vehicles spaced out in a wide pattern. So I'll do one plan five hundred meters wide and a kilometer long. Do you want them dropped time on target?" he asked.

"Not precisely, but all within thirty seconds say. Just so they don't see a line of fire walking toward them and have time to maneuver."

Outside Katia was folding forward the steel shutter which covered the glass and protected it from micro meteor erosion when they were parked. The bar that folded over and could be locked also could stand as a brace and hold the steel plate horizontal like a big eyelid over the port. She engaged the catch pin into one of the slots cut along the bottom of the brace and wiggled it to make sure it was engaged.

"Looks good, anything else before I cycle in?" she asked.

"No, just do a walk around inspection since you are out there and come back in," Heather instructed. She spun the turret around on top and looked off back behind them with the sight set as wide as it went. The last road train was a good half kilometer away already and she was glad to have them away from her. It amused her to see each train had a single blue light mounted on the rear trailer. That was a mark of how sure they had been they wouldn't be pursued.

She was pretty sure the Americans didn't have anything like counter-battery radar or even an indirect fire weapon, but they could have a ship brought in from Earth orbit and she'd never know. Their own radar was of limited range to do a deep space sweep besides being unable to look over a very close horizon. If they attracted attention firing, at least it shouldn't draw fire on the refugees. Now they just had to wait.

When a tense half hour had passed without much conversation Heather seated her helmet and looked to see Happy had already mounted his. She announced a pump down and closed her faceplate.

"Mark!" Katia and Johnson called suddenly. Heather looked at the screen and there was a dot of light just like they'd seen a few hours ago. She glanced at the screen corner and it said 03:27:02. No way it could be that close. These rovers didn't even have a throttle lock you could set to hold an even speed. On virgin ground it was too tempting to use as your attention could wander with fatigue.

"Two sets of lights next in line," Katia pointed out. Then as they watched there was a single rover to the left and a single to the right, then two more sets of two staggered.

"They're still all running, no stragglers."

"I make out seven hundred meters front to back," Johnson said. "What do you want to do?"

"Lay the short pattern of three by three on them. Match the back of your grid to the rear of their formation. I'm guessing three hundred meter craters so that will put the front runner past the edge of the worst blast effect from thrown dirt. I'm hoping there is enough left of them to gather some intelligence."

"Okay, entering program," Johnson acknowledged, keying something and touching a stylus to the screen. "First impact at 03:34:17, about fifteen kilometers, closer than we wanted but the flight time forced that even with the cannon auto setting for reduced muzzle velocity."

>Kra-chunk< rattle-rattle >Kra-chunk< rattle-rattle, sounded nine times. The empty casings bounced and rolled across their roof before the next round fired. The suspension rebounded once each shot until the cannon sensed it was sitting stable again and fired at about two second intervals.

Johnson wheeled the rover around and pointed the front view ports away from the impact. He pulled forward into the bottom of the dip so the direct line of sight would be hidden. Heather hadn't actually ordered that but let it go since it was what they'd discussed. She dimmed the windows down to 5% transmission. She wasn't sure she needed to, but better safe...

"It doesn't feel like a battle should," Heather told them. "I can't believe we just killed people and it's just falling on them with no way to call it back and we have to wait..."

"Yeah when I shot the missile back at Central we could see it racing away into the sky even though we were ripping across the mare... crap!"

There was a flash behind them that rippled in intensity, but the sharp shadows that leapt away from them behind every pebble on the surface were strange because they started long and as the light got softer and faded through gold and red they grew shorter as the source of the illumination expanded upward behind them. Too late Heather thought she should have had a camera pointed back even if she risked sacrificing it.

In seconds the ground waves traveled under them like taking a stiff truck over a washboard road. The rover actually turned and walked a little, skittish over the shaking ground. Johnson got the driving lights back on and the ports transparent again just in time for a blast of fresh blown regolith to rush past them. The first wave was almost white, then quickly turned grey. It had not started to thin before the hiss of fine particles like sand sounded sliding down their sides with an eerie sound. Finally there were significant impacts of pebbles and rocks, bean size to hand size raining down in a deafening cacophony. When they thought it was easing off and started to relax, a sharp edged chunk the size of a twenty liter water cask landed in front of them and bounced away hard enough to throw pieces up that rattled on their front. It was a good ten minutes before they were confident enough to turn the machine around and start forward.

The landscape was altered. Grooves were drawn through the loose, previously smooth regolith by flying or rolling rocks. More rocks stuck up where they'd fallen than the plain had featured before. The going was not that much slower, but the landscape was not as smooth and harder to drive. The treads rumbled over more small rocks than before.

Johnson kept the speed way down from his usual style without any urging. Several times they came to chunks of fresh sharp rock bigger than their ground clearance they had to avoid. The dust was disturbed but they still could see the tracks of the road trains to follow.

When they saw the rover it was well to one side of the track. Johnson approached cautiously, but from well away they could see it was upside-down with the tracks in the air. As they got closer it was visibly damaged with both ends smashed in and arched in the middle from the whole chassis being bent. It appeared to have been lifted and rolled end over end for about a half kilometer. Happy and Johnson cycled out to examine it and take pictures.

The forward driving ports were empty holes and after making sure there were no ragged edges Johnson crawled in. They could see his flash working inside as he took more pictures. Then he passed some items out to Happy before easing out with obvious caution so as not to snag his suit. They walked back carrying some sort of plastic pallet between them that supported the take.

When they got back both looked grim. The booty was a hard shell laptop that just might be functional since it was a hardened military model. They also had several personal hand comps only one of which was visibly damaged and a carbine style rifle that looked like a H&K variant. There were two standard 10mm military pistols and extra magazines in vacuum safe holsters and webs.

The rest of the salvage was quite a pile of freeze dried meals and coffee. There were a couple plastic jugs of water that were not vacuum rated, but they were frozen solid. They put them in plastic sacks in case they leaked on thawing. Lastly there was a medicine chest, the sort that unlatched from a bulkhead as a unit. The plastic pallet was tossed on the upper deck as it was too big to fit in the lock.

"You're sure nobody was alive?" Heather asked.

Johnson shook his head no. "You'll see in the pix. There was one body hanging in the command seat still strapped in. He has a name tag like Dakota mentioned - Loesher. He already had frost on the inside of his faceplate - pink frost. There was another body loose laying face down. You could see the suit wasn't pressurized so I didn't bother to roll him over. Another body was still strapped in a chair but the pedestal had ripped out of the deck and the chair bounced all around the inside with him strapped in it. I was trying not to look too closely actually. There is enough stuff inside there may have been a fourth person but he's not there. Maybe he flew out an open port when it was flipping end to end."

"As my first official decree I'd like to rule the photos you just collected are not public access. There will be a detailed public description of them available in our public archives, but anyone claiming a need to see them for legal or scholarly purposes will have to agree not to dispense them further or publish them in any manner."

"I think that's very civilized," Johnson agreed. "God knows, I will be happy not to refresh my memory of them. If you send somebody back to salvage the radios and fuel and such you should have them bury the remains in a temporary grave with markers. If they are left to cycle through the full temperature range every lunar there won't be much left soon."

"You up to driving or you want me to awhile?" Heather asked.

"I'm fine," Johnson assured her and strapped in.

When they got near the first crater the crushed rock and dirt thrown out was softer than the usual surface to which they were accustomed. They didn't sink but they could feel the treads work and a little wallowing motion. They stopped right where the crater rim really pitched up and parked. Heather and Katia went out climbing the loose hill, dragging some gear. The inside dropped off sharply. They agreed the edge was dangerous but wanted to see the bottom. Katia went back to the rover and got the winch cable off the front keeping tension on it as Johnson played it out for her slowly. Heather tied the line off the rover and her personal safely line both on the plastic pallet handle and eased forward pushing the pallet ahead of her until it was right on the edge. She crawled on it leaving her legs hanging off the back. Katia had stayed back in sight of the rover so her radio did relay, playing out the rope. Heather grabbed the edges and rocked a little. The ground stayed solid with the pallet spreading her weight.

"I believe it's safe if you want to come see."

"Let me step back and tell them we're both going near the edge. I'll tell them to pull the winch line in from the rover if we don't come back in a few minutes."

"They didn't like it, but too bad." Katia said when she came back. She clipped on the line well back and inched in beside Heather. She had the big search and rescue light that was a standard part of the rover's kit. When she tried to illuminate the whole thing on wide beam it just soaked the light up. Heather took a couple pictures hoping the camera would gather more light than their eyes could.

With the beam narrowed down they could see the crater was almost a perfect cone. The bottom didn't have the spiky central peak that so many natural craters did, but it had a sort of mound or dome at the very bottom. The far side was just about where Heather had guessed - a bit less than three hundred meters, maybe two-fifty and it was obvious the next crater beyond had been formed first and the rim of this one overlapped the other.

The craters beyond were invisible in the dark, but if they were like these they overlapped anyway. chances they would find even pieces of wreckage searching around in the dark without metal detecting equipment were pretty slim.

They climbed down leaving the plastic pallet for a marker, but retrieving their line. Nobody else wanted to climb up. Especially after they processed the pix and they were better than eyeballing it.

* * *

"President Wiggen, automated instruments on the moon and communications from the other moon bases indicate there were nine more seismic events consistent with nuclear weapon detonations. They were all in a small area near Central and of the same magnitude as the event at Armstrong."

"And how many rovers were in the pursuing force that Col. Loesher decided to take out after his, what did he call them?... elopers?"

"I believe there were nine Ma'am."

"Yes, that would make sense. Ms. Anderson seemed like the sort that would figure anything worth doing should be done to excess. Why use just two or three nukes against a formation of rovers when you can individually vaporize the pestilent things?"

"On the other hand perhaps she has been profligate with her munitions and will be in a bind if another force moves against her," her advisor mused with a hard edge to his voice.

"You didn't talk to the girl, Freddie. I'm not willing to play that kind of poker with her. She seems like a normal eighteen-year-old one moment and then she's a fifty-year-old stone cold bitch like flipping a switch. What I'm also remembering is this - Jon Davis who used to be our man and is one of the most forthright men I've met, laughed when I asked how he could treat a teenager so seriously. He said she was a pussy-cat, but if we ever decided to screw around with her boyfriend he'd appreciate time to get to Mars where he might be safe. I didn't like the sound of that even then, but now I have to wonder how much he knew about the weapon the boy used on China. Everything considered, I don't like the scale of the risks involved."

* * *

The third shift com tech for Armstrong handed base Vice-Director James Crawford a print-out. He took it eagerly and then looked disappointed.

"That's it? Meet the Heavy Hauler Frederick Mann tomorrow and be packed for return to Earth? No answer to the messages I sent? I have a career here. I have a contract I haven't worked out."

"Well welcome to our reality. Everybody here lives with that everyday - not knowing if some error or even something beyond our control will put us on a ship back to the Big Sleaze Ball. Ernie told you when you ordered him to disconnect that you don't hang up on the President's Secretary when he's telling you to hold for her. If it had been my shift I'd have told you the same thing."

"But Col. Loesher was very specific I not discuss operational information with anybody. I didn't have the authority to reveal his mission."

"Yeah, maybe if you send another text message explaining all that again they will finally understand. You've only sent what? Seven of them?"

Crawford just blinked at him uncomprehending. He was one of those humorless bureaucrats so far gone he couldn't recognize sarcasm. Neither could he recognize he'd bet on the wrong horse and the race was over.

Chapter 23

"Johnson, when you and Katia called 'mark' I looked at the screen to see the light and then I looked at the clock which said 03:27:02. Now I know the first headlights became visible within at most a second of the estimated time. This is a friggin' Royal Decree. The terms of the bet were not met. They were neither early nor late. And if you are disposed to argue about it I may declare all forms of gambling and cards, dice and such are forever banned from my kingdom because gamblers are a pain in the ass. You wanna push me and see if I won't?"

"No your Majesty," Johnson agreed. Somehow it didn't sound as respectful as it should.

"Heather," she insisted. "If you have real authority you don't need a bunch of bowing and groveling and genuflecting. I'm not Her Highness, or Majesty and I don't rule by the Grace of God or any such foolishness. I suspect like most rulers I will hang on until the ammo runs out. I'm not going to issue any titles that require a special form of address either. My peers will stand in the harsh light of public opinion and make their own case for respect. There may be a Baroness Dakota, but nobody will be required to address her specially."

* * *

"She what?" April asked, incredulous.

"Heather needed to have a consensus from her customers to act on their behalf. She didn't feel she could initiate force to defend them without some general agreement they were a political unit. There wasn't time to form an Assembly and take votes like we did here, so she took an oath of fealty from two Armstrong residents buying lots. Their households together make up more than half of the new residents so she felt she had a valid mandate."

"So, she'll probably dissolve this arrangement and do a proper democratic republic when things calm down, won't she?" she asked Jon.

"I wouldn't be too quick to assume so. She said nothing about that. In fact they seem really happy with the arrangement. To the point two other heads of households gave their oaths back at Central after she returned. So the entire population has voluntarily put themselves under the arrangement. I mean, she did go to war and save their bacon. The way she told the story it was their idea not hers. This Ted fellow stepped forward and freely offered it to resolve the crisis. It would appear you are not the only one who can do rescues," he said, smiling.

"I was getting a lot in payment, but I'm not sure I even want to visit if it's a monarchy. If I take up residence I'd be a subject. I'm not sure I approve of the whole thing and even though it is Heather and I love her, I don't want to be subject to her."

"Come now, you had no problem visiting Tonga. They have a King and you were subject to him while in his territory. A constitutional monarchy doesn't really have any more power over people's lives than a republic when you get right down to it. Besides, that doesn't really apply to you anyway." Jon added, looking distressed.

"It doesn't?" April asked eyes narrowing. "What aren't you telling me? You look guilty as hell and that isn't like you. I've seen all sorts of things on your face but not this look."

"I'd have rather not been the one to tell you, but Heather indicated she intends to name you and Jeff and whoever else it makes sense to name, as peers."

"Peers?"

"Well, yes, although technically I believe you will be Baroness Lewis if you wish to accept," he added. "Or is it Baronetess? I'm not up on the fine details of titles."

He was really glad he was recording. The look on April's face was priceless.

"Don't worry though, she isn't going to allow titles of address to be mandatory, so you wouldn't commonly be addressed as Dame Lewis unless someone just wanted to do so as a point of respect to you," he assured her.

"Arrrrh…" April managed to squeeze out.

"Although I admit I have such high regard for you I might take up that habit if I should have opportunity to visit you on your lunar estates." He actually managed, with great effort, to keep a straight face saying that.

"I'm going to kill her," April vowed.

"Oh, regicide threatened already," he marveled. "How quickly these things turn ugly."

* * *

"I can do a quick and nasty repair in two days," Dave promised. "We can let out everything to fabbers and if you don't mind visible seams where the repairs are done we can have you fixed and loaded and back on the moon in five days. Or you can have us do everything fifteen or twenty percent cheaper and add a day or a day and a half."

"Do it the fast way," Jeff instructed him. "If Eddie minds the expense," he stopped and reconsidered. "I'm liable for the whole thing. I busted his ship while leasing it. Even if he has insurance he shouldn't have to pay," he realized.

"Fix it fast, I'll cover the cost and if he wants the seams covered up or any other cosmetic stuff  later I'll pay for that too, but we need the Happy back on the moon. None of my people are safe if the USNA gets spacecraft in lunar orbit and we have no ship of our own."

"Don't you think it's time you have a purpose-built lander instead of using a orbit to orbit scooter that you have to tilt on its belly after you land?" Dave asked.

"Soon," Jeff agreed. "Soon, but I want it to be capable of being carried along grappled on a deep space vehicle and able to land on Mars, Titan and maybe even Earth."

"You triple the cost doing that. Why not have a dedicated moon shuttle? You are going to have enough freight just to Central to keep it busy soon enough. I don't know your circumstances, but that's wasting one hell of a lot of money to make a general purpose shuttle for landing on any planetary surface."

"You're right," Jeff decided. "I'll talk to my people and see if we can release a contract to you for a specialized LEO/moon freight shuttle. I'll still proceed with designing an all-planet shuttle with Happy, but it can wait until we have a large deep space design for the outer system or starship to carry it," he concluded.

He signed off, on a mission to get such a design moving. He missed the look on Dave's face and seeing his lips form, "Starship?"

* * *

"Yes dear," Huian agreed submissively, she even managed to look down modestly. "I shall pack up and be ready to go in the morning." She looked around at the hotel room. It's not like they had accumulated any pile of possessions to cart along. "May one speak candidly, husband?"

"Certainly, is there any reason to not travel at this time?" Chen asked mildly worried.

"Not at all. I thank you that you'd consider my input if I had some reservations. I'd like to point out I displayed considerable initiative transporting myself and the children to Vietnam. I found allies, avoided arrest, bribed transport very economically and even took the lead in helping others in a similar situation flee."

"Yes, you displayed good sense and did very well. The children did marvelously also, I have no criticism of your actions at all if you got that mis-impression."

"The children it would be well to offer them a quiet word of praise. No need to spoil them with an extravagant rush of words, but your daughter acted beyond her years and your son killed a man for you. A word about the necessity of that might be good to help him deal with any undisplayed stress."

"You are right," he decided nodding. "It is no small thing and if he is troubled it could affect his sleep and effectiveness. I'll speak with him about it."

"And since our circumstances are changed, you are not bound now by the rules of your agency about need to know and avoiding disclosures. I've always respected that and not pried into details that might put agents at risk. But could you not tap into the ability I showed getting us out and consult with me to some degree? Not as an equal, but as a very junior partner?" she asked. He looked surprised, but didn't speak immediately.

"For example I am very willing to pack and go on your word. But is there any reason now you can't tell me where we are headed? We're probably leaving this country I imagine. If it wouldn't put us at risk I'd like to know where. In fact if something happened to you, might I not try to complete the journey for myself and the children? If I had to start from scratch and decide where to take us I doubt I would choose as well as you."

"You have a point. I have some habits very deeply ingrained and hard to discard. I get a very disquieting feeling when I realize I effectively quit when I said 'blue jacket' to you on the phone. Almost all agents have secreted away various assets to protect themselves, as much from their friends as any enemies. We are going to visit Myanmar to collect some of these assets. I doubt if they would be released to you even if I gave you the information," he apologized. "They are a matter of a personal trust with an Arabic banker in a takaful arrangement."

"Those resources should then be available to you after I gather them up. I hope to eventually end up in Tonga. Once we are there we can settle for a time. From there we have the ability to lift to Home and beyond if things become untenable for us on Earth. That is over a long period of time. We may live in Tonga until both the children are grown, or we may leave in a week if bad things happen. It depends entirely on circumstances. I expect the number of possible destinations to expand greatly in the next decade. That is the general outline of what I have planned. Your help in implementing it is welcome. Does that satisfy you," he asked.

"Very much so dear. Thank you."

* * *

James and Helena sent a text to Jed Allison and he confirmed he was expecting their message. He told them there was a fast courier going to New Las Vegas in eighteen hours and he had room for two passengers so they confirmed the reservation.

They considered using the inoculation Ames gave them in their NLV hotel room, but they could still spread the virus he's provided for them on room service dishes or the surfaces of the room after they left. It was really hard waiting to use it until they could travel to their country home.

She pulled the spray bottle out of her purse and looked at it again. It was a common brand of eyeglass cleaner many people used to clean their spex. It contained seven specific infections that would confer most of the important protections of Life Extension Therapy. They were young enough the full spectrum was not necessary yet, but they had an appointment for five years to visit him again and be evaluated and further work done.

He promised by then he'd have a comfortable facility where they could undergo their incubation period and infection with no risk to others. The mix of so many agents in one dose was going to make them feel worse than the usual treatment they'd been warned. In fact they were going to have to report they were sick and take more leave than they had planned to use for this trip. They were assured they would look and sound sick and likely show a significant fever if they were forced to have a physician attend them. They hoped to avoid doing that since he would be a potential vector.

The reaction enhancing modification was too much to add to this treatment. He also told them there might be a modification soon that would enhanced strength as well. Helena wouldn't be surprised if they were back before five years.

The cost of a New Las Vegas vacation was steep even without a secret side trip to Home. The bill for the little spray bottle was a hundred and sixty thousand EuroMarks and they could not charge any of it to their medical insurance or represent it in any way to reduce their taxes.

She realized in the long run if attitudes didn't change their failing to age would be a problem. The things they were doing now would not be that visible. But thirty or fifty years from now there would be no hiding it. Spanish society and more importantly the Church, did not change rapidly and on their time scale a few decades was 'rapidly'.

She was determined they would deal with that when the time came. No matter if they were banished, young and healthy and kicked out beat old and feeble and having a bunch of old men happy with their choices. She'd make sure they saved up the resources to pay for whatever became necessary for their survival then.

The fast courier was decidedly crude compared to usual orbital shuttle. But she did appreciate the savings. Besides, as a bonus this time it happened to get them back home two days ahead of scheduled flights. She was very anxious to get home and spray the fluid up their noses.

She had a momentary worry. What if they used it and nothing happened? They could hardly sue Dr. Ames. Then she remembered what April said, that he was okay. Surprisingly, that was enough to her feel better. She didn't think the man would risk his reputation in that tight little society by running a scam. She leaned back in the coach and relaxed.

* * *

A low fast power launch met The Sly Spy late at night near Grand Bahama. The crew of two stayed aboard. Seas were calm so it rested against a couple bumpers snug to the bigger ship, which didn't stop moving. They left the engines idling to lessen the strain on the tow rope. The passenger came into Grand Salon and set up a working area. He produced passports for everyone that showed a variety of travel, but all of them had entry to the Bahamas three months previous and exiting the islands yesterday.

He also handed over a portfolio of receipts and credit card statements showing the boat was docked first at one and then at another marina during that period. They were given a few odds and ends of things like advertising pens and tourist souvenirs, some galley supplies of local brands, a well-used road map with the card of a car rental firm stapled to it and a couple local newspaper printouts from the previous week.

Papa-san gave him a small sack of various items dated wrongly or peculiar to Hawaii or Tonga that would make no sense for them to have given their new story and they could not be guaranteed to sink and stay sunk.

The fast boat separated and vanished quietly into the moonless night without running lights. It had a very low radar profile and would not dock back in the Bahamas tonight.

"It looks like we had a wonderful time," Mama Lin told her husband. "Maybe some time we can visit and see if the broiled lobster was really worth two-hundred and sixty dollars at the Golden Treasure Chest," she remarked holding the bill.

"Oh it was," he assured her. "But I think you drank too much and you can hardly remember the place. If you don't believe me look here," he said pointing lower on the tab. "Wow! It says you bought three Bahama Mamas after dinner. I imagine I had to carry you to the car."

"In that case I need to get to bed and don't disturb me," she ordered. "I'm sleeping off a terrible headache from all that rum," she said holding her head theatrically.

"We'll be at a marina on Marathon Key when you wake up," he told her. "We'll spend a day and have dinner and spread around that we are heading north up the east coast to Maine."

* * *

"Lunar com is back up!" Marion informed Jeff. He was still half asleep and not sure what response the man expected to that.

"Uh, well good, hang on a moment. Lights up half," he told his room. He checked the com clock, he's only been asleep three hours. Just long enough to get into really good deep sleep, which he'd badly needed.

"Don't you want to call central?" Marion asked.

"They are on Zulu time too. I don't want to wake anybody up," he said, wishing he'd not been wakened either. "If it's up I imagine it will stay up. I doubt they'll keep turning it on and off. Now that they don't really have any way to project force why would they? I will however drop them a text message. Thanks for letting me know Marion." That was a really hard thing to say pleasantly, but if he crabbed at the man he might want to be awakened next time and the fellow would remember getting chewed out and let him sleep.

"Heather - Happy Lewis will be repaired and I will return with a full load in five days," he wrote. "Not sure if you are standing watches or what. I was informed com is up. I am going back to bed and will speak with you tomorrow if no emergencies. - Jeff."

Bed was very easy to return to. Sleep, not so much. He made it warmer and then cooler and set the bed softer. Eventually he drifted off again. When he finally woke the com call seemed like a dream, but the message light was blinking in his console. Thankfully it hadn't the priority to wake him again.

"Jeff, please send the Happy back with hired crew and if you can research these items stay. First, data on drilling and tunneling in lunar rock. Second, geometries or methods of tunneling that reduce the propagation of shockwaves down tunnels and bunker entries. Third, tunnel boring machines and any light enough to be transported or custom made for working in vacuum. I'm sure you can see where this is going. Pretty much everybody here would be really happy to dig in deep. In fact we'd like to know at what depth the lunar environment would be suitable for habitation without heating or cooling. Would you see if any of the lunar bases have done a bore drill and released data? Thanks, go sleep extra if you need it. You don't function well on short sleep. – Heather."

That was an excellent suggestion. He set no alarm and went back to bed satisfied things were under control. He went to sleep right away this time and dreamed. He'd never driven a car, but he was in a vehicle that looked suspiciously like the grandfather's 2042 Toyota his father had once showed him in old family pictures. It blasted a tunnel through the lunar rock at breakneck speed. Where the shattered rock went his wildly free associating brain didn't worry about. However it worked it didn't keep him from enjoying the radio playing in the old fashioned dashboard nor riding with his elbow hanging out the open window.

* * *

"Mr. Crawford? James Crawford? " the fit young man asked him as he exited the connector tunnel from the lunar bulk carrier. Crawford had stayed on board the ship when it made its first stop at a USNA military supply satellite. If he'd gotten off there it would have only been an inconvenience since it was a very secure North American jurisdiction. ISSII, though, was a different matter. He had all sorts of sovereign areas he could go to and cause them difficulties.

"Oh very good. I didn't know someone was meeting me. That freighter was just horrid," he breathed, like he'd expected it to be a luxury cruise ship. "I couldn't sleep a wink in the cramped little hole they called a stateroom and the food was all that sticky zero G stuff!" he protested. "Please make sure they get my luggage off before they leave. I don't have any confidence in them getting things right without somebody keeping at them. Do you have a hotel reservation for me?" he asked.

"That won't be necessary sir, they are holding the Earth shuttle for us." He reached smoothly, without looking down to warn him and clamped a handcuff on Crawford's wrist. Crawford stared down at it unbelieving. It wasn't the classic TV crime show handcuff, it was bulky and white composite instead of metal. He jerked back, wild eyed, trying to deny his other wrist to the man, who instead of grappling with him stepped back. The cuffs worked better when both were attached, but even one was effective.

The officer withdrew the remote from his pocket, pressed the recessed stud with his thumb and was rewarded when Crawford jerked back into the bulkhead with a spasm from the electro-cuffs. He slid down to a sitting position, conscious, but stunned. The creep pissed himself too. He was going to have to sit next to that for hours. There was no time to clean him up.

He pulled his other arm over and clamped the cuff around his wrist. "You are under arrest sir. I am Federal Marshal Curtis," he said displaying his badge, "and I have an arrest warrant for you that you can examine on the shuttle if you wish."

"Do you realize who I am?" Crawford bellowed loudly. "I am acting director of Armstrong!" he informed the agent angrily. "How dare you put cuffs on me in public?"

"This isn't Armstrong. If you don't pipe down and come along meekly you are going to be the dude I shocked senseless and loaded aboard like a piece of baggage," he informed him. "It's all the same to me."

He marched the man down the dock to the shuttle port. Everyone else was aboard and had been for a half hour. "We dropped count," the second officer informed him. "We could only hold  over about five minutes before needing to wait a full orbit to go again. So we have almost a half hour to wait after we get you two strapped in and resume a new count."

"I'm sorry to inconvenience everyone," He said very courteously. "I have orders directly from the President to return this fellow as expeditiously as possible," he explained.

Just then Crawford decided the narrow hatch was the perfect place to make another stand, spreading his legs wide and raising his shackled wrists high to make himself too large to push through the connector. Agent Curtis didn't waste another warning on him, he just shocked him senseless and grabbed the limp man by the back of his trousers.

"You can't fix stupid," he observed of the stubborn bureaucrat . "Do you have a towel or something we can stuff between his legs so we don't get any floating droplets?"

"We have some large dressings in the first aid kit," the officer offered. "Or I'd be happy to stuff him in a rescue ball," he said, sniffing distastefully.

"Don't tempt me," Curtis told him.

* * *

"That's supper from the village deli," Helena said when the door bell rang. She was sitting on the couch watching video in her warmest robe, with a wastebasket beside her and a fresh box of tissues. "Would you be a dear and bring it in?" she asked. "Be sure not to touch him. Make him set it on the porch and just wave your com past his pay-port."

James threw the door open, phone in hand, to pay and froze. Standing there was his sovereign in a shooting coat, looking fit and happy and two of his close security detail, one looking past his shoulder already and the other looking back scanning the driveway and yard.

"Your Majesty!" He croaked stricken.

"You look like you saw a horse in church boy. I know I never drop in, but I was shooting pheasants at your cousin Edward's place down the road. Don't let that get to the press, you hear? There's a couple more of these boys out back too. Don't be upset if you see them out the windows. You know they'll assume you house assassins in your garden shed." He walked in right past James and stopped to really look at him.

"You look like hell James. I was thinking maybe you were off doing a stealth job interview and were going to abandon charity work to go for the bigger private money, but I can see you really are sick," he said, concerned.

"Yes, this is a truly nasty bug we both picked up. I really would feel terrible to give it to you," he said with a depth of sincerity.

"Ah, that's why we're standing in your foyer. Well one nice thing about being King, folks can't very easily throw you out on your ear," he said continuing down the hall.

"However I will make this brief after seeing what sort of shape you are in. If my dear Elena is not actually sick in bed I'd like to say hello. I assume all responsibility for exposing myself. You would not believe the long reception lines with germy hands I have to shake. It's a wonder any monarch ever lives long enough to be assassinated. I even smile and shake the hands of those African fellows from where they have Ebola and all those gruesome plagues and there is this Romanian fellow who seems to always have some problem with his nose that requires digital intervention to the second knuckle right before he gets to me. If it isn't something I've had I will just add a new immunity to my huge collection," he said acquiescently.

"Sire!" Elena said when he walked into the day room. She stood too rapidly and then had to sit back down hard. Her eyes were red, her nose rubbed raw and she had a big wad of tissues in her hand.

"Oh sit down before you fall down, you silly goose. When did you ever become so formal? Do you think I've never seen a sick lady in her robe?" He perched on a chair arm way too close and asked them, "Did you try your luck on NLV?"

"I won at first and then went in the hole a few thousand," she admitted.

"Did you love birds try getting a room in zero G?" he asked her, grinning.

"Shame on you, you old goat. You should take aunt Sophie up to find out about that for yourself. But we were assured the zero G thing is strictly from bad movies. On the other hand just about everything is wonderful at a half G. I could dance in high heels all night."

"Was there anything worth seeing at Home that they didn't have at New Las Vegas?"

Helena's heart clutched in her chest, but James, dear man, answered with enthusiasm instead of guilt. "Well, your security guys would flip out. A good half or more of the natives all walk around wearing guns like a wild west movie. They were very friendly, a young girl befriended us and showed us around. Everything is remarkably utilitarian, but even they have a couple small night clubs now. We went to one and it wasn't exactly Monte Carlo but it was fun."

One of the security men came in carrying a large sack. "I believe this is your dinner?" he asked James and Elena.

"It is, but I bet you checked to make sure it isn't a bomb," Elena predicted.

The security man had known her for years. "Of course," he agreed. "Or a very small sniper."

"Sit, eat your dinner," their King told them, getting back up. "You can tell me more when you feel better. I'll send word to your bosses I'm writing you a sick note, just like primary school." He never used the majestic plural unless he was making a bad pun. "That should save you any complaints. We'll find our own way and lock the front on the way out."

They sat looking at each other until they heard the front door latch and the rattle of the security detail testing it.

"There was no way to stop him," James said.

"You could hardly slam the door in his face," Elena agreed.

"If he catches it we are so screwed," James predicted.

Chapter 24

"If anyone has a lunar tunnel boring machine they won't admit it," Jeff said. "Working in a vacuum has to be a lot different than Earth. I found a German mining engineer who would come experiment on site, but he wanted six-million EuroMarks a year plus all sorts of bennies and guarantees. I can't justify that on something that might flop. The sort that make highway tunnels on Earth are as big and heavy as an railroad locomotive and cost a couple hundred million."

"Dollars or EuroMarks?" Heather asked.

"At hundreds of millions it doesn't matter which," Jeff assured her.

"How about working up a couple designs of your own and making models to test it?" Heather suggested. "If one works well we can probably even use it to bore holes for pipelines or ventilation shafts and scale it up for man sized shafts."

"We'll need bigger actually. We're going to need tunnels that the rovers can ride through, maybe even pass each other going both ways."

"Eventually. I'm not sure we can push ahead to that stage right away, much as I know you'd like to. What will you do with the loose stuff that comes out of the tunnel?"

"I've been thinking about that. We should keep it for feed stock to run the atmosphere plant. I'd like to select an area nearby and throw it into a big mound with a catapult. We have cheap power, low gravity and no air resistance. Fill a bucket up and when it reads the right amount on a scale it just flings it away."

"How much oxy will we lose just by the tunneling process?" Heather worried.

"Good question. I'm picturing a combination of thermal shock with lasers and mechanical scooping. It would be good if we don't have chunks big enough for any sort of milling to be needed. The problem is storage. I'd love to store the oxygen as nitrous oxide, but we need a source of nitrogen. There is very little in lunar soil and rock except a little from the solar wind. Iron oxides seem a good possibility since both are abundant. But I need a process to remove the oxygen from more reactive metals to store it with the iron."

"What do the other lunar bases do?"Heather asked.

"Import their nitrogen as liquid and recycle carefully. They make up lost oxygen from imported water. They don't really want their moon bases to be independent."

"Yes that would agree with what the Armstrong people are telling us."

"Oh and the lunar underground should be shirt sleeve temperature at about five point six kilometers. Being on the equator helps actually, it may be a hair closer. It should be a lot easier to attain that deep a hole than on earth. You have almost no seismic activity to contend with and not having any water to run into and pump is a very big help," Jeff said.

"That's still a long elevator ride," Heather said discouraged.

"Unless you tunnel down at a shallow angle in a big spiral. You can run side tunnels anywhere you please and maybe level out and make a complete circle level when you get to where the rock is the temperature you like."

"How big a circle are you picturing?" Heather asked.

"Well I was thinking one that circles the entire area you staked out. It would serve as a sort of perimeter road for the optimum lower level."

"Oh my goodness, would that be pressurized? Think of the volume of air you'd need to produce to fill that!"

"Well I'm leaning toward just gathering the nitrogen from Earth with a ram scoop by the time we need that much. Maybe processing it to nitrous oxide onboard," Jeff said. "Then we just recover extra oxygen from rock if we want to run higher ratios at lower pressures like in a suit. At about a hundred-thousand Pascal you can run a mix converted straight from nitrous oxide."

"What do you want to bet somebody would complain we are stealing their air and they will run out in a year or two?" Heather asked.

"Calculate the amount of lunar rock needed to return the oxygen and drop it down the gravity well," Jeff suggested. "As close as you can aim to the complaining party."

"I think you have been hanging around April too much. We have to get away from solving everything by orbital bombardment," she insisted.

"That would be fine with me," Jeff agreed. "But it has been working so far," he pointed out.

* * *

Papa-san leaned on the rail looking at the busy Chesapeake Bay marina and restaurant where he'd soon take Mother for dinner. He could hear lively music faintly across the water. "Lin, when we pick these two lieutenants up for Miss Lewis, we will have to transport them someplace they can safely lift for home," he said, in his thinking out loud mode.

Lin kept quiet. This was how 'T' worked slowly around to saying what he wanted.

"I'm grown tired of looking over my shoulder, even before the difficulties with the Chinese and the uncertainties of North American politics. I'm not sure various agencies will allow me to pursue my retirement in peace," he lamented.

"That appears to be a real possibility," Lin admitted.

"I'd like to take Mother and lift with the lieutenants when we deliver them. But I also want to leave you and all the other people in my service in a safe, stable condition."

"We have been compensated generously," Lin said.

"And you have served generously too," Papa-san said making a weighing motion with his hands. "I'd like to have the Hawaiian property sold off so it no longer has any attachment to me to attract official attention. You should divide up the proceeds according to both length of service and the level of responsibility. If anyone has particular needs or weaknesses of health or family needs you should adjust for that of course."

"That is a very valuable piece of property," Lin observed.

"I have other assets," he assured him. "It will not leave me impoverished. You have always had a fondness for the Tobiuo," he acknowledged. "I'd like to leave her to you as a severance package. I'd encourage you to retain her crew, but once I am gone that is your judgment as Master. You can even sell her if you wish, but she will serve as the basis of a business that will provide a fine return if you wish. If you do retain her I will ask April to make good on her offer of a compact fusion power plant to propel her and supply bountiful auxiliary power."

"Could I return her to her usual name?"

"You could, or I have documentation to show she can be any of three other ships too. I'll leave that and a number of contacts who can render aid such as we just received in the Bahamas. I suspect Miss Lewis might have the occasional errand for you like we are on right now, or you might specialize in cruising vacations for the space folks. They don't mesh well with Earth society already and I suspect the gap will only grow. But time at sea and in remote places can give them the refreshment of open skies and a planet their body fits, without the stink of cities and the press of the common herd. They certainly can afford it."

"I can only accept with gratitude. But I have to ask, are you sure your daughter will not resent so much of her someday inheritance disappearing, scattered to the winds?"

"Mama-san and I have the best of Life Extension Therapy. I think you will find that the techniques will advance now so much more quickly than the aging process itself, that waiting for an inheritance is going to become a futile exercise." He thought about it a little. "Unless your relatives happen to be of a conveniently conservative religion."

"In any case Adzusa seems to be making her own way in the world successfully. I doubt she will every fall into any real want even if she should never see any further help from me or Mother. Nor does she seem fiercely accumulative to envy your portion."

"I've noticed she travels light and fast," Lin admitted.

"You should see to getting LET yourself soon. I'm leaving you comfortable, but you never know what can happen on a grander scale than we can control which might reduce your worth. Best to see to the important things like that while you have the means."

"Is that something you anticipate?"

"Frankly, yes. These things are cyclic and we’ve been very prosperous with minor glitches since the time of my father. Eighty years is an average for such a period. New technologies and the corrections of the last generation have prolonged it, but the people who remember the dark days of the Twenty-Tens and Twenty-Twenties as adults were too old to benefit from Life Extension. It may give them some extra time, but it can't restore them back into their prime. We are losing them and their caution," Papa-san said sadly.

"So that is why you have significant assets in gold and platinum," Lin said, very aware of the heavy boxes they took from Hawaii when so many other valuables were abandoned.

"Yes, it may not be a good investment at any given time, but it is a safety net for when the other investments fail with little warning. They do have counter-party risk no matter what people say, but even in the worst of times it has usually been possible to find someone who wanted them in exchange for necessities."

"And if things should as you say, change down here, there is always the possibility I may follow after you," Lin said.

"That's a good option to hold open," Papa-san agreed. "Just don't misjudge and wait too long to do it because the window may close for a time. I'm not sure what is going to happen when the knowledge that longer healthy life is available runs up against the fact most people can't afford it. You push against human nature at your peril. I know every religion that was serious about total abstinence eliminated themselves. For all their wonderful art and wisdom there are no Shakers today. People want to live and pass life on to their children. I can't see a special class keeping that to themselves for very long successfully."

"Everything you said is agreeable then," Lin told him. "I suspect your counsel may be as valuable as your physical gifts in the long run."

"Then let's hope April's young men show up and let us complete this plan," Papa-san said.

* * *

"There must be something valuable about any process that welds such a tenaciously bonded layer of stone to a metallic surface," Jeff concluded. The layer on the face of his half-meter bore tunnel machine could not be chipped off with a ballpeen hammer. At least not without destroying the coated parts. As close as he could figure, it put a centimeter of fused crud on the face of the machinery for every fifty meters of advance. That wasn't going to work.

"I'm sure it could be used to coat statuary or something," Heather agreed, helpfully.

"At least it doesn't build up on the lens," he said searching like her for some plus.

"Not at that power density it won't. How about backing off the face so the plasma has time to cool before it reaches the boring machine?" Heather suggested.

"I'm already so far back we are losing almost a minute every cycle to back off, shatter the face, roll forward and scoop up the debris, back up to shoot again."

"I bet the composition of the vapor that condenses on the face of the machine is different than the grit that falls at the base of the tunnel face," Heather predicted. "Let's have it analyzed for chemical composition. If it is doing some of the separation for us it's a feature not a bug."

"I could seal the tunnel up once the machine is in far enough to install a lock behind it," he thought aloud. "It would mean removing the debris in batches again instead of a continuous process. But the gaseous buildup might mitigate the plating effect. And the gasses might be worth harvesting in themselves."

"Let's collect some and see what we have," Heather agreed.

* * *

"Mr. Crawford? You are served," the young man informed him dropping a rather thick portfolio in his lap.

When they told him he had a visit from a lawyer he expected it to be a USNA prosecutor or someone appointed to defend him. This didn't seem to be either. "Briefly, what matter does this deal with?" James asked confused. "I've never heard of someone already in custody being served like this."

"This doesn't have anything to do with any USNA case against you," the fellow said with a savage smile. "I have no knowledge of that. Indeed the USNA is a co-defendant to the charges against you, administrator Loesher, his head of security and several administrators on Earth and their department heads as well as NASA and the civil service administrators and executives up to and including the President."

"For what? What is the accusation?"

"That you held thirty-seven members of four extended family groups including two children in involuntary servitude. Conspired in a criminal enterprise to deny them civil rights, freedom of movement, property rights for the basics of survival and freedom of expression under color of authority by both civil and misapplied military law and administration under terms of both your own Constitution and the United Nations resolution on human rights and dignity. The suite before the World Court asks to include others still held at Armstrong under the same oppression not able to speak to their own situation. They ask an injunction to stop action and relief and punitive judgment."

"Oh. I suspect Col. Loesher is dead," he told the man.

"Yes, it has not been confirmed yet, but it is reported the entire expeditionary force was wiped out to the man." That didn't seem to bother him especially.

"I will need to get a lawyer to make a reply to this and for whatever my own country is holding me. They haven't notified me yet why I'm being held." It finally penetrated that he was in trouble. How could that have happened when he always did just what he was told? He looked again at the man and it finally hit him. "They're going to throw me under the bus, aren't they?"

* * *

It surprised Huian when the taxi didn't go downtown to a big bank building in Bago. Instead they drove out into the suburbs and even past some plantations with rows of trees. She had no idea what sort they were, except obviously cultivated in orderly rows. The compound they stopped at had an actual gate house and her husband identified himself and was treated with courtesy. Their driver was escorted with them, but he was seated on the porch with a cool drink of some sort. They were taken inside and she was separated from her husband. He gave a very small nod to her that it was nothing to worry about.

She was still worried about the children, the hotel provided a nanny to supervise them for the day but she was still uncomfortable. It was a grand glorious hotel, with a suite she'd have been happy to live in forever. But she didn't know them.

The TV news in the hotel suite this morning had said the party chairman had died of a heart attack. Huian had expressed surprise. "Does anyone die of a heart attack anymore?" she asked.

Her husband had made a pistol of his finger and thumb and said it depended on how big a hole the heart attack made. She found that disturbing too.

The woman who escorted her to another  room sat her at a table and joined her. When she called for servants to open the screens to the courtyard garden and bring refreshments she realized this was not a menial, but a member of the household. A closer examination of the fineness of the woman's clothing and the rich color of high karat gold jewelry made her chide herself for not being more observant.

A very young girl, twelve or thirteen, came in with a tall slender silver pot of tea and a tray of cookies, sesame covered, dusted crescents and something plain looking. She suspected they were the source of the liquorice odor. The young woman surprised her by speaking neither Arabic, of which she knew only a few words, or Chinese, but English. "It is between meal times for us, but you have been traveling and might be off schedule. If you would like a plate of sandwiches or something more substantial tell us please."

"Thank you, but no. We had a breakfast in our hotel room and I was quite satisfied. My husband has only recently included me in any of his, activities. I don't know the name of the banker he is speaking with, but may I assume you are a member of his household?"

"Banker? I suppose that would translate well. Investment advisor, business broker, insurance underwriter, yes he is very close to many of these expressions. I am impressed you are being taken into his confidence for business matters. I am the daughter of his second wife and none of his three wives need concern themselves with any matters of business."

"We live very differently and I mean no criticism by that," Huian was quick to say. "I'd have no idea how to adjust to your world. I suspect however I'm about to be uprooted and make just as big an adjustment, if different."

Chen came in just then, holding a heavy carry-on and hesitating like he was not certain what to do. He pulled out a chair and sat down. "We have some changes of plan," he told her. "I am informed I am singled out for a particular object lesson for other agents and dare not proceed to the east as that is what they expect." Part of the reason was that his wife and children had proved impossible to arrest, helping others escape and killing the very official in charge of rounding them up. But he decided not to lay the burden of that on her right now. After all, she only did exactly what he'd told her.

"We shall go west and seek to lift from the European area, possibly Crete or the Canary Islands. I had thought to stay on Earth for a time, but that looks inadvisable now."

"Would you help my wife with her garments and adjusting this carrier to her body?" he requested of the young woman. He withdrew a vest-like shape that appeared to be body armor, but with maybe a hundred tiny pockets.

"It would be my pleasure. Help yourself,"  she waved at the refreshments, "and call out for anything else you need." She smiled at Huian and led her by hand out a side door.

* * *

To someone who saw April in a news video like the war footage from the Happy Lewis her brother sold to the BBC, or the footage Adzusa sent to her boss of April blazing away with laser fire in the corridors of home, or her own footage of shooting Preston Harrison and his thugs, she must seem like a terrible publicity hound seeking the camera. Truth was she'd be very happy to stay in the background and encourage others. In her own mind she hated speaking up. She had a dread of making a fool of herself in public, but when push came to shove she'd speak up if the alternative was worse. She had been forced to speak up in the first assembly of Home or they would have treated her like a little kid and marginalized her. She never got hostile unless she was directly threatened. Preston Harrison had sworn to her face he would destroy Home and kill all her friends and family. What did any rational person expect when you made those sort of promises? All this sort of thing could be avoided if people just didn't push her into a corner and disrespect her.

She really didn't want to look bad in public. She'd be just as happy as could be if the public was unaware of her at all. She refused to look at a couple online sites that promoted her 'look' to teenagers as a fashion style. But she did have just a few people whose opinion of her mattered a great deal more to her than any public perception. Her grandpa, Heather, Eddie and Jon. Her father and friends Ruby and Easy. Even Dr. Ames or Jelly as he liked to be called and her Earth hosts the Santos now. She especially didn't want to look silly to Jeff, because she suspected he was so much smarter than her he had to be patient and wait for her to catch up with what he had figured out months ago. Not that that wasn't true of most people and him, but she still didn't like it. She wasn't even as brave as Heather in telling him not to soar off in flights of fancy and first prove out the smaller projects before deciding to move planets whose orbit didn't suit him.

Unfortunately when she had suggested they might start a bank she had no idea it would lead to Jeff suggesting she needed to become familiar with economics. She dove into understanding it with the same direct push she had applied to fomenting a revolution or obtaining her orbit to orbit pilot's certification. It appeared to her after some examination that the whole system was actually over due for a down-turn, slump, recession, depression, panic or whatever they wanted to call the next big financial belly flop.

She'd have never seen it if Jeff hadn't motivated her to look into it. Life was good on Home, or anywhere else in orbit for that matter. There was no shortage of work, the food was good. People lived in cramped quarters, but they were thoughtfully decorated, comfortably designed cramped quarters. There was no pollution or commuting problems. No blackouts or tornados or wildfires or mudslides. No mosquitoes or cockroaches and very little disease that was slowly getting worse on Earth every year. She never worried about getting mugged for her pocket money or somebody breaking in their cubic and stealing their flat screen.

Even if they had cause, it was their own fault there was a shortage of building materials. They had after all shot up all the North American production facilities to make such exotic items as shuttle tires and laser gyroscopes. It took a long time to rebuild the special tooling and begin production again. Other countries were picking up the slack faster than North America was rebuilding.

What she saw now after her research was that things were not nearly so rosy down below. Wages had not kept up with prices for five years now and the trend was accelerating. Personal debt was getting out of hand. Defaults on credit had been rising for seven years. Prices of materials were up not just here, but down below too, yet wholesale prices were down and companies were running tighter margins. Despite all that stock prices were up against all rational expectations.

The talking heads on the news services right now had only good things to say about the economy. When she looked at the archives of newspapers in the 1930s it was the same thing. Their spox all were full of joy and encouragement all the way through the long slide down into the Great Depression. Come the next Big Slump in the 2010s they had declared the recession over and recovery, visualized as green shoots, in progress for years as it continued to get worse. The public could be fooled for a limited time by propping things up with borrowed money. Then for an even shorter time by simply printing money when nobody would lend any more.

Obviously the media and government spox were lying shills or fools. It was terrible when being a honest fool was the less repugnant accusation to level at someone. This sort of major crash seemed to happen with a period that approximated the high side of the human lifespan. It definitely was time again. It would be really, really nice if Life Extension Therapy broke that cycle, she thought.

The investment money flooding Home from Earth seemed a good thing to her when Eddie and Jeff told her about it. Now it seemed to her it was money fleeing for a safe haven by those smart enough to have already seen what she had just figured out.

She felt she had to report back that she had looked into it as Jeff had asked, but she was really uncomfortable telling him the conclusions she'd come to. It wasn't just reporting the general familiarization she had expected, her views had become sharply predictive. If she was wrong it was going to be hugely embarrassing.

She'd have never had the nerve to say anything to someone who had years of effort in studying economics. Who was she to go against what all these experts were saying? But none of her people had that formal training. She decided to run her ideas past her grandfather first. He had become close to Jeff working with him and familiar with his thinking. As his only granddaughter she was pretty sure he'd forgive almost any silly thing she said and just chuckle and kindly correct her rather than dismiss her as a fool. He was back temporarily from the moon and she wanted to have breakfast with him and hear about the lunar project anyway.

After explaining her research over pancakes she concluded. "So I think things are going to get tough for folks down below pretty soon. I'm still not sure what that is going to mean for us. There was no orbital population last time there was a big Depression. What do you think?"

"I thought that was a possibility twenty years ago. I was pretty sure it was a dead certainty three years ago," he admitted. "It was definitely a part of why I stayed her after helping build the place and bought a cubic and wanted my family here."

"Then why didn't you say anything to me?" she asked surprised.

"Would you have been interested?" he asked her.

She thought back, three years ago was a long time at her age, to what she was doing. What her brother was involving her in for his projects, her classes and things her mom had her doing, including visiting her grandparents in Australia. Money and work was not a very big part of her life at all back then. "No, I would have nodded politely and wondered what any of that had to do with me," she admitted.

"Would you have done anything different?" he asked too.

"I hope not. Everything that happened worked out pretty good in the end. Bad stuff happened but it could have been much worse. We could have ended up on the slumball with Home under tight martial law and the Rock nationalized. Bob was older than me, did you by any chance tell him there might be a depression coming?"

"No and I'm glad I didn't. I don't have to wonder if worry about it drove him to go all weird and act like he did. I can't see how telling him would have had any benefit," he added.

"So you don't think I'd look silly to mention the same things to Jeff?" she asked.

"Not at all. I'm sure Jeff and Eddie both realize we are deep in the end cycle of an economic peak. Eddie is very forthright about trying to turn all his suddenly gained paper assets into real tangible things. Jeff, when we were working together, would make remarks that made me realize he knew the score too."

"Like what?" she said scrunching her eyebrows up.

"Like when we were designing the fast couriers, we had to consider how many hours they could sustain before a major bare-frame overhaul. He'd make a comment that something should last just fine for as long as he expected there to be a demand for the kind of high priority freight they were designed to carry. He definitely saw such work dropping off in the not too distant future," he remembered.

"Knowing that is of limited usefulness however. You never can predict such things with the kind of precision to actually time business plans based on it. On the other hand you could decide it is too close and sit on your hands for years, never doing anything because you aren't sure things won't crash and ruin your venture. Or you can go into something that depends on way more time than you have to show a profit.  Either one is a trap. You just have to get on with your life and deal with it when it happens," he assured her.

"That's a remarkably calm viewpoint," she said, not sure she could adopt it.

"When you were sailing around with your friend Santos did a storm ever come up?"

"As a matter of fact one big one in particular did hit us after we passed the equator. It was scary but exhilarating. I have some video of it."

"How did he act when he saw it coming?"

"He saw the dark clouds behind us and took down the big sails and just left the smaller triangular sail at the front. He closed up the clamshell doors on the wheelhouse and made sure even his experienced deckhands had safety lines on."

"Well it's the same thing. You see some dark clouds gather on Earth. You know it's going to get rough. You just don't know when the first gusts are going to hit. Best to have your sails trimmed to not get damaged and be ready to ride it out. No way can you change it. The storm is a bigger force than you can deflect at all. You could shout from the rooftops and tell folks and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. These sort of events are the sum of so many little things going back further than you can see that there is no understanding them fully, much less trying to keep them from happening."

"The economists and the politicians all deny up and down anything is wrong!" she protested.

"Can you really blame them?" her grandpa asked her. "Most of the passengers are so stupid they'll blame the captain for whistling up the storm or ask why he steered in front of it. As if there was any way to undo or avoid something so big. I wouldn't waste my breath trying to explain it to somebody who has never stood at the wheel and kept the boat from getting crossways to the wind. Most of the passengers are pretty useless when you get right down to it. Just tell them they don't know what a bad storm really is, shut up, get below and try not to puke in your bunk."

"Thanks gramps. You really help me put things in perspective."

Chapter 25

"One of Dakota's people showed me another lunar process they've been hoarding today," Jeff told Heather. "He can separate iron from regolith magnetically. It is nano-particle size and can be sintered and laser heated to finished size for things like air locks and  machine parts. They are going to make residential buildings and greenhouses of microwave melted regolith ceramic with native steel airlocks. They want us to import nitrous oxide and solid carbon to make air and carbon dioxide for the plants."

"I know Home has lots of cheap iron from the Rock, but could you sell them this nano-particle iron for quick prototyping at a price that would beat them making their own from the bulk solid?" Heather asked.

"That's an excellent idea," Jeff acknowledged. "Also, Armstrong brings some air in as nitrous oxide for rovers and suits so they are very familiar with it. The carbon dioxide they bring in liquid, but that is no big difficult change. They intend to keep the air for the greenhouses separate and optimized for the plants."

"I've been thinking. Importing solid carbon from Earth is fine for now, but I'd like to eventually ram scoop hydrocarbons from Jupiter or Titan. It doesn't even need to be a manned vessel for such a long voyage, it could be automated," Jeff  suggested.

"How fast is the tunnel machine working now?"Heather asked.

"It has averaged a meter every three hundred seconds for long stretches. Cutting out blocks instead of needing the power to shatter the entire face to grit has made a huge difference. We have much less cracking in the wall from thermal effects too. Cutting the tunnel square instead of round makes it much more efficient to use for the effort put into it too. That was brilliant," he complimented her. She just smiled. "I just know eventually we'll think of some use for the blocks," he predicted, "people are using them for simple stuff like building shelving, but that hardly puts a dent in the pile."

"When you build your beanstalk you'll need a big counterweight at the end, won't you?"

"That I will," Jeff said, looking surprised.

* * *

Maine was lovely this time of year. It was past the heat of summer but not yet cool except at night. The leaves were getting a little patches of color out among the green. The lobster were abundant this year and they bought them at the dock and cooked them back aboard. Lin had seen somebody watching them from the marina store Saturday the first of two weekends they were to be available and assured him the man was not a professional observer.

The next day another fellow cruised past in a small boat and spent too long looking at their stern. When the other fellow returned to the store Lin confronted him.

"I've seen you hanging around, are you looking to crew?" he asked him directly. "We have a berth open on our boat if you are qualified."

"I am, but I'm expecting a particular boat soon. The Tobiuo was supposed to come in about this time and they promised us an opening for both myself and a friend."

"You haven't heard then. The Tobiuo is thought to have been lost in the Drake passage. Her dinghy and various bits of debris were found washed up," Lin told him.

"Has that been confirmed?" the man said looking worried.

"The ocean is large," Lin said shrugging. "That kind of thing may never be finally confirmed," he explained. "Why don't you and your friend come speak to my master tonight? I think that you will find The
Sly Spy is exactly the same, under the skin, as the Tobiuo. If you were qualified for her I'm sure the owner will accept you."

The fellow looked like he was getting the drift of it but wanted to be told plainly. Lin wasn't going to do that standing here in the store. "He's been looking for just the right people since April," he assured him. "If you hesitate he might be gone after next weekend."

"In that case I'll get my buddy and come tonight," he agreed. That was finally plain enough for him, thank goodness.

"Come early enough for supper and bring everything you don't want to leave behind," Lin instructed. "If you are coming with us it might be a long time before you return."

"Yes, I expect that. You're a long range cruiser, aren't you?"

"Indeed our master has expressed a desire to go much further next time than he has before."

"We'll see you about 17:00 then."

"That sounds fine," Lin agreed.

* * *

"They say they are going to bring in a new executive crew and the four administrators who worked with Loesher will be returned to Earth," Ted said reading the message flimsy. "In consideration of dropping the embarrassing lawsuit we'd have all administrative charges dropped and new contracts signed that guarantee civil liberties and freedom to stay on the moon."

"What happens to the creeps they send back to Earth?" his wife asked.

"It doesn't say. I figure they get another Federal job or maybe straight to a cushy retirement given their skill sets are not in big demand elsewhere," Ted predicted.

"We already had guarantees of our liberties," she pointed out bitterly. "It was called the Constitution. It wasn't any defect in documents that created a problem, it was a defect in people who wanted to dominate us and make our lives miserable. It's the same team and I don't trust them. If we go back they will just find new ways to oppress us. It's what they do."

"Oh I totally agree," Ted said. "I'm just reading what they offered. Everybody should hear it. I have no desire to be under their thumb again. I want to market some of the tech we made and held back. You know if we go back they will claim anything we invented is their intellectual property because we couldn't have any private facilities or equipment to develop it."

"Which brings up another matter. The fellow Beck, who took over environmental services for you, can't get the nitrous oxide generator to run continuously. The catalyst bed overheats and he has to shut it down before the ceramic substrate gets damaged and run it in batches. They would like to know what to do, or pay you to come back and show them how to run it."

"Unbelievable. I wonder if they have killed off all the hydroponics yet? They were a heck of a lot fussier to keep going than the air machine."

"Well, he isn't a process engineer. I think he's an architect."

"Any halfway competent plumber or heating and cooling guy could figure it out. Tell them I'll write out instructions, not the stupid manual the manufacturer foisted off on us, real world how-it-works instructions, for a ten-thousand dollar consulting fee, a bargain! Paid in advance, because once they see how easy it is they will balk at paying for it," she predicted.

"How long do you think it will take you to write it if they agree?"

"I can tell them everything in a half page, sweetie," she said smiling.

"Ouch."

"Anybody crazy enough to want to go back?" she asked.

"No, but we also noticed that despite all this supposed openness and freedom not a single one of our co-workers has sent a message or expressed any interest in joining us. You'd think that if they were free to speak now there would be some message if only a hello or asking how we are doing," he thought.

"Not a thing has changed," she surmised. "They either can't send a message or are terrified to do so."

"You're the third person to say so," he agreed. "After twelve years of giving me a hard time, my lab tech Carl would have called just to harass me, if he was free to send a message along. I'd bet our old associates don't even know the administrators are communicating with us. Heaven only knows what they have been told."

"A moment though," she said holding her hand up. "Perhaps we are too well trained. Have any of us tried to call our old friends and coworkers at Armstrong?"

Ted looked shocked. "It never occurred to me to try. It won't go through," he predicted.

"Why don't you do so?" she suggested. "Now."

There was a sat code for Armstrong, then he just punched in the normal internal number that would ring his old assistant Carl. Instead of Carl he got a tech at the communications center. He recognized the man's face but didn't know his name. "Calling Carl," he said abruptly, hoping to brazen through.

"Carl is on his work shift. We don't pass through com to people at their duty stations," the tech informed him.

"Fine, Vincent works off shift and I'd be happy to talk to him too. Connect me please."

"But he may be sleeping and I'd wake him."

"He's a big boy, he can set his own com priorities to wake him or take a message. I'd be happy just to leave him a voice message too."

"Sorry, those are not my orders," the tech told him.

"Sorry, connect with this," Ted told the tech, gathering his straight fingers at the tips and lifting them with a very dramatic rude Italian gesture. The fellow disconnected.

"Lying bastards," he said to the blank screen.

"Whatever tale they have been told, the big thing they can't cover up is that the rovers Loesher took out after us never came home. They know that can't be a good thing. Tell the lawyers we want to see some of this new openness in action and have some of our old friends and work-mates call and chat us up.  And tell Heather what just happened. I think sometimes she may think we are exaggerating."

"I'll do that, but I wouldn't hold my breath," Ted told her.

* * *

"We are going to proceed to the Canary Islands," Papa-san informed his guests over dinner. He had not plainly told them he was giving them transport for April until they had their bags aboard and were seated to dinner.

"They have a launch center that is very little influenced by politics. We can lift on a passenger shuttle with little chance anyone will object even if your name shows a hold by Interpol. They make their money not by convenience or economy but by discretion. We also have quite a bit of mass to lift and can get a cheap lease of an entire automated freight shuttle."

"Are they as reliable as a manned vehicle?" his new passenger Isaac Freidman asked.

"They are infinitesimally less reliable mechanically, but with an automated shuttle you can have your security watch them from loading until they are slung on the lift jet. Likewise you can have your own security present when they dock and open them up for you."

"You can't do that with a manned shuttle?" Freidman asked.

"Sure, if we paid to have it lift two-thirds empty and bought all four of the passenger seats," the manned shuttle rate is much higher even if we could fill it. Also we can lift everything under seal and that allows us to bring all those extra toys you brought along as well as a great many things I don't want the unwashed masses pawing through," Papa-san explained.

"We don't have the cash with us to buy a lift ticket," Freidman said, worried. "I'm not sure we can access our funds in the Canaries. That's Spanish territory, right?"

"I already instructed my agent to make all the arrangements for us," Papa-san said with a dismissive wave. "I told Miss Lewis I'd see to your rescue if she was unable. I'm fairly certain she would have stayed on Earth to see to your movement if I had not agreed to take care of it and that would have been very unwise, fatal even I believe."

"Thank you. We do appreciate the ride," Freidman said awkwardly.

"That was an excellent meal," Eric Brockman complimented them. "I wonder if we will be able to eat so well on Home?"

"My daughter assured me they eat very well," Mother Lin told him. "I understand they are expanding and you'll likely have more choices for dining and other things in the near future."

"Does your daughter live on Home?" Brockman asked, very interested.

"She is a journalist and photographer, she's up and down – all over the place really. I have no idea from the morning to the evening where she may call me from next."

"I've traveled with the President, but I've never been on a boat like this before," Eric told them. "We really didn't see much of the places we guarded him, even in the advance parties."

"Was it difficult in hiding?" Mama-san asked.

They both looked at her surprised. "It was the best vacation I've ever had," Freidman told her. "We spent a winter in my friend's cabin in the Maine woods. We went hunting and chopped wood. I learned to snowshoe and lost about ten kilos. I haven't been in this good a shape in a few years. I did some wood carvings I've had in my head but no time to do and Brockman here got me as skilled at combat pistol as I am ever going to be. Eric taught me more about cooking than I ever suspected I had in me. It wouldn't surprise me if I always look back on this as one of the best times in my life," he concluded.

"I read everything Isaac's friend had in the cabin," Brockman told them. "Really good stuff. I read some of it again and thought about why it was good. The last couple months I started on a novel of my own. We are from very different areas and families. We got to tell a lot of stories about growing up and I think I got enough out of Isaac for a different book when I finish this one."

"It seems to me your story about the war and guarding the President would be a real life thriller that would sell," Papa-san told him.

"Are you going to publish a tell-all memoir of your career and stir everyone up?" Eric asked.

"Hmm…I think I see your point there. Perhaps I'll leave a manuscript for my daughter to publish, posthumously. There are people who might take exception to it," he admitted. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to arrange for us to leave on the tide, early in the morning."

* * *

Her grandpa was right, Jeff was real easy to talk to about economic stuff and didn't think she was crazy. "The platinum coin I got from you, is that an indication you want real coinage for money? April asked Jeff. "In my reading a lot of people advocated a gold standard or sometimes gold and silver at a set ratio. I suppose platinum would work just as well. It certainly has a lot of industrial uses like catalysts. A few people even said we wouldn't have depressions if we used real money."

"Don't believe that," he urged her. "There were depressions, well at the time the word they used was panics, which was probably closer to the truth, back when gold and silver coins were in circulation and paper money could be redeemed at the treasury for gold."

"Oh, that kind of kills that idea," she admitted.

"Now modern money is created as debt. The debt has to be paid back with interest. So in theory the people issuing new money keep adding a little bit to the pile as wealth is created and the whole economy grows in pace."

"I can picture that," April told him.

"If however they are tempted to make just a little too much money all the time, what happens?" he asked her.

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"When they issue the credit for a loan remember it all comes right back to them as deposits. Excess credit spends the same as actual cash money, but the effect is different. It's bad for a couple reasons. First, if there wasn't any real basis in the economy for expanding the money supply we have more money, but no new real goods to justify it. If that sort of loan goes bad there is little or no collateral to recover. Second, the number of dollars out there for the number of space stations and footies and cans of beans is in a new balance. The dollars are worth less because there are more of them for the same old stuff."

"If I have a couple extra bucks who is to know?" April objected. "I spend about the same day to day no matter what I make."

"Ah, but you are not a typical Earth consumer who drives the economy. If ten million of your average Joe has an extra ten bucks this week, maybe ten thousand more of them will feel free to stop and buy a beer on the way home. You can't tell which one will do that, but as a group they will very predictably drive up beer sales. Now remember, in this simple model nobody can make more beer. That is usually true to a degree, because companies avoid excess capacity. So that extra hundred thousand dollars is chasing the same number of bottles of beer," he proposed.

"The bar owners will know it. They are not stupid, they have more money flowing in and they may run out of a popular brand one night before they close. What to do? They will raise the price so they get all the traffic will bear for the beer they can buy. It's called price inflation. There's a lot more to tell you, but do you follow that much?" he asked April.

"Yes, in fact it makes what Eddie was telling me about running fast couriers make a lot more sense now. He said he could make more money running two less ships. He is over supplying the market."

"And things are slowing down," he agreed. "We have to be careful not to get caught holding too many ships or any business assets that become a burden instead of a money maker. Even the high end makers of drugs and glassy metals or quantum dot arrays made in zero G may have less of a market than what they can produce."

"That would be a shocker. They have never been able to make enough," April said.

"History is wasted on most people. They think just because they have never seen something happen it not only won't, but that it can't. We'll be smarter," he told her.

* * *

The Spanish State Airlines orbital space shuttle from the Canary Islands to New Las Vegas was loading hanging from its jet launch vehicle. Naturally it was bright yellow with black trim. Papa-san and Mother took seats on one side and the USNA lieutenants took the seats in back of them. An Oriental couple with children came in and filled two rows on the opposite side. A single well dressed lady came in and sat in front of the children. At the very last minute two  very fit young people with elaborate tattoos came in. The buzz-cut hair and camaraderie said they were beam dogs and riggers coming off leave. They went to the front opposite the woman leaving one seat beside her free.

Papa-san took the tint off his spex and happily gave Mother a loving pat on the knee. "It's been awhile since we did anything so audacious, hasn't it love?"

The woman got up, likely to use the lavatory and took two full steps down the aisle before she froze in horror looking at Papa-san. "Tetsuo Santos!" she said, starting to sob quietly. "I am nothing, a minor player. Why would they send someone like you after me? I'm done, I'll never bother them again. Look… I have three-million dollars. It's nothing but it's everything I set aside as protection money if I ever had to run. Take it and say you never saw me," she begged.

"My dear, I have no professional interest in you at all, I'm retired. You'll find Home is very expensive, so hang on to your money and don't throw it away so casually." Seeing her disbelieving look he went on. "Do you think I take my wife on missions?" he asked. "Allow me to present my wife Lin. I assure you she'd give me six sorts of holy hell and probably box my ears, if she thought I made a lady cry."

"Mr. Santos is so retired he is dead," the Oriental gentleman across the aisle told the woman. "Are you another spy that you think he has an interest in you?" he asked her.

"I'm just a State Department flunky who stayed hidden after the coup attempt a little too long. Now they doubt my loyalty and there's nothing back there for me but trouble. Do you mean you are a spy or Santos? I've read his unredacted folder, I knew what he is."

"Was," Papa-san insisted gently.

"Yes," Chen agreed ambiguously.

"Chen," Papa-san said tentatively, looking at the Chinese gentleman hard, scrunching his eyebrows up in mock concentration. "Chinese agent," he remembered. "Are you here to assassinate me?" he asked so calmly it was bizarre.

"See how paranoid we all are?" Chen protested, "I'm just trying to retire too and get off this stupid rotting ball of insanity just like you. Are those your bodyguards?" he asked, looking over the Santos at the lieutenants behind them. They certainly seemed alert and interested.

"Actually they are under my protection, not the other way around. When the history is written they will eventually be far more notorious than any of we three," he said indicating Carol Jordan, himself and Chen with an inclusive little motion of his hand. "I'd really rather not name them at this point. Someday I may tell you the whole story. I think the space workers up there are the only honest folk we have here not trying to escape someone."

They looked forward and the two beam dogs were peering back around the edge of their couches, big eyed at the sudden drama.

"Don't be concerned," he told them with a big wink. "We're just going over our lines for a play we're doing."

"Yeah, right and we're the King and Queen of England traveling in disguise man," the smaller said, turning away.

"My wife Huian, since we are all friends here," Chen said presenting her to the Santos, "and our fine children I'd rather leave unnamed too."

Santos started giggling and couldn't hold it back and erupted with laughter.

"Would you care to share what is so humorous," Chen asked, mildly irritated.

"We are like rats on a mooring line," he said, drawing an imaginary arch with dancing fingers going down it, like nimble little feet, "fleeing the sinking ship because we were in the bilges and realize she is going down," he explained wiping away the tears. "The important people are all still schmoozing, browsing the buffet and enjoying the music, oblivious to the fact a few wet rats have more sense than they do. It's hilarious. When they finally wake up and notice the deck has taken on a slant it will be too late for most of them," he predicted.

They thought about it and one by one caught the infectious laughter until every one of them were laughing themselves sick. The riggers looked back at them again like they were insane.

When the laughter died out there was a new sense of camaraderie. "Why don't you switch seats with my wife?" Santos invited. "We can talk and allow the ladies to become acquainted also while we lift. I can explain how very hard this retirement you seek is to attain. I've been trying to convince various people I sincerely want it for years. We are going to be neighbors it would appear, so we might as well get to know each other, perhaps even find common cause. We can appreciate our shared circumstances better than those who have never been in the belly of the beast."

Carol heard the words, but didn't really believe them, until she became aware she was being ignored. Then she finally decided to accept the gift of it and went back to her seat like the mouse she had called herself, seeking its hole still unsure why the cats hadn't eaten it.

"Very well," Chen agreed, making a small affirmative gesture for his wife to accept the arrangement. She appeared agreeable with it.

"Do you think the workers up there will make a problem for us when the flight crew comes aboard?" Chen asked in a low voice once he was seated.

"Not at all. Did you hear how the little fellow addressed me? Sarcasm only bubbles forth in an absence of fear. We are going back where they are in their element and Earthly affairs are beneath their concern. I'm convinced that is going to become the dominant attitude of spacers. Earth and its problems are becoming something with which they do not want to complicate their lives and are just an irritation that is more trouble to accommodate than ignore. This will be a problem when Earth governments find all their pronouncements and self importance meet a wall of indifference. Nobody likes to find they are sliding into irrelevance. They may not accept it with any graciousness."

"Hasn't that always been the way of things?" Chen asked. "What empire has looked around and made a formal announcement they were no longer the power they had been in the past? They all retain the titles and trappings of power long after it has died."

"Indeed in a technical sense Home has defeated both North America and China. North America gave them a formal surrender and now pretends that as long as they are not occupied and their institutions not set aside, they are still unconquerable. China had its hands severely slapped and is playing the same game of pretending if it doesn't say anything it didn't happen."

"But for how long?" Chen asked. "How long until somebody with little imagination tries them again?"

"I don't know, but it is something about which we should add our voice in the councils of Home. We have a recent Earth perspective we can bring to the table if they are too optimistic they will be left alone now."

"I agree, that's good. I'm prepared to add my voice in support to yours," Chen offered.

"I appreciate that," Sato said with a nod that approached a bow. "We are from different nations so they may see our advice as stronger coming from diverse sources."

The shuttle crew came in rushed, close to the deadline to seal up and roll. Chen and Satos both stopped talking and watched, but the spacer passengers didn't say a word to the crew. When the hatch to the flight deck sealed it was their wives who made a fuss not the spacers. They erupted in laughter over some comment their husbands couldn't hear.

"Well, that seems to be going well too," Satos observed, eyebrows raised.

"Indeed," Chen agreed, surprised at his usually reserved wife.

* * *

The Monarch of the Spanish Crown, Carl and a whole long list of other names and titles, was in the doghouse. It wasn't fair that after being miserable for almost two weeks he felt wonderful and his lovely Sophia, Queen and childhood sweetheart, would barely talk to him. Instead of simply commiserating and apologizing again for infecting her, he'd made the mistake of cheerfully saying how soon she'd feel much better just like he did. If looks could kill he'd be gracing the carpet with his sprawled corpse. How was it that after forty-six years of marriage he still stuck his foot in his mouth this badly? He retreated to his study sure the servants would take care of her needs and if his absence irritated her it was still safer than saying the wrong thing again. This bug looked to have a short incubation if, as he suspected, it was the one he'd picked it up from Elena and James. She should be well enough not to hate him in – three days – four at the outside. Meanwhile he needed to find something to occupy his time, if he could find something out of town that would be ideal. There was nothing his secretary couldn't put off for him.

Chapter 26

"Do you think Miss Lewis will come meet us?" Brockman asked.

"I certainly hope not," Papa-san said, eyebrows lifting. "I sent no messages ahead. It's firm habit from my working days to take no chances with operational security."

"Of course that makes sense," Brockman admitted, a little embarrassed. "We never had to think about that side of things, uh, when we were working." He seemed uncomfortable to say too much around Chen. "Somebody else did all that sort of secure scheduling for us."

"My understanding  is Miss Lewis is in the public directory on Home. I'm sure you can give her a com call after we arrive and arrange a meeting. I do plan to see her again myself, but my wife and I have things to do on arriving. It may be a few days before we socialize."

"We may have to, I'm not sure we have the price of a room on Home between us."

"Didn't you have any savings?" Papa-san asked, clearly distressed at this revelation.

"We have bank accounts, but I doubt if we have access to them anymore. We certainly never tried to tap them while we were hiding out. I'm hearing how you think and plan being with you. Spies expect betrayal apparently, but guards like us expect to be taken care of, not turned on like we had happen. It was a shock to us and we had no plans. If you only knew how ad-hoc all our actions were, you'd be amazed we escaped. It was one improvision after another and one error anywhere along the way would have put us in prison."

"I believe if you try to do a transaction you may find you still have access. They would leave your accounts active just for the purpose of tracking you. However I'd try to get the most part of your money in one withdrawal. I doubt they will sit around waiting to give you a second opportunity once they have a location. You don't really care if they know you are on Home now do you?"

"No and neither of us know how to establish a new identity. We're counting on Home being safely beyond their easy reach," Brockman admitted.

Lin spoke up. "Then I believe you should see about establishing Home citizenship. We certainly intend to do that very quickly."

"We'll look into the details of that. We used the public library in town to find out a few things, but we were afraid to even do much net searching for fear we'd call attention to ourselves being too interested in Home."

"Eric has more money than me," Isaac said of Brockman, just matter-of-fact. "If you can get his out first it would make more sense and then try to do mine as soon as his clears."

"I should have inquired more about your situation while we were on Earth," Papa-san admitted, frowning. "I imagined you would say something, if there was need and tend to assume people want their privacy if they are silent."

"We had no idea you could do anything in that regard," Freidman explained.

"I was able to help Miss Lewis's bodyguard withdraw some cash funds. But it was easier done contacting locals I knew and arranging a physical hand-off. I think we should consult with Miss Lewis before I attempt anything for you. We're playing in her yard now," he said, smiling.

"You think she might know somebody who could help us?" Freidman asked, innocently.

"I'd be shocked if she doesn't know someone to help you," Papa-san told him. It was his wife Lin snickering behind a hand that gave him a clue what a silly question it was.

"Have you forgotten how we got here?" Brockman gently ribbed him. It was because they sent a letter to April asking for help. She had certainly come through for them.

"No and we do appreciate the ride," Isaac told the Santos again.

"About six to twelve hours after we arrive at Home they should dock our freight shuttle," Papa-san told them. "If you would care to provide security for unloading and transfer of our things to storage I will pay for your services, that should give you funds for a few days," he offered. It was far better than simply offering charity. "I'll be listed on station com very quickly, so you can contact me, I'd suggest you do the same."

Brockman looked at Freidman until he got a nod. "Our weapons are somewhere in that shipment. Do you think we can dig them out fairly easily?"

"I packed them right by the hatch. I was well aware we'd want them immediately for security. It happens I have some similar items there of my own and for Miss Lewis and her hired man."

"In that case I'm going to take a nap," Brockman announced. "We'll need to be alert and on call after we arrive for some hours. Best to rest now while we can," he reclined his couch and set his belts loosely. Eric couldn't order him to do anything, even if he was a bit the dominant personality, but Freidman took the hint to rest while he could too.

* * *

"Name?" the pleasant young woman inquired. They had a line rigged for folks who were new to zero G. He pulled himself to the end and kept one hand anchored on the end stanchion. The Security lady must have magnetic shoes or some sort of toe strap behind the lectern. She had a machine with a read-out screen in front of her and both hands free.

"Eric Brockman," he replied, tense and not sure why. Freidman had gone through ahead of him without any hassle and was waiting for him near the big opening with the rotating rail. The woman had on a powder blue pants with a dark side strip and matching  jacket with piping. Her beret must be pinned on somehow or it would float away given it's jaunty angle. It looked more like a designer jogging outfit than a uniform. But the Air-Taser under her elbow was all business and it had no yellow non-lethal markings on it.

"Welcome to Home, Mr. Brockman. Please touch the taster square and your identifying bio-markers will be kept on file and attached to your name during your visit. You will be asked to check out upon leaving."

"Don't you want to see my passport or ID?" he asked.

"No, unless you have been formally expelled from Home you are free to enter whatever  your nationality and as far as we are concerned you are whoever you say you are. Want to pick a different name?" She asked him with a teasing smile.

"No, no thank you. I'll keep the one my mother gave me for now. Could you tell me where to go to find somewhere to eat and your business section?"

"You are at the north end of the station because shuttles that don't carry a full passenger load dock here at the freight section. When you go through the bearing bore and enter spin take an elevator down to 'C' deck and there are signs to direct you to a cafeteria. Or you can stay on the central column and go straight through to the south end where the first ring is located. An elevator down there will take you to the 'A' deck which is full gravity and has another cafeteria and various shops and businesses on the same level."

"That's what I want. Is there transport or do we, uh not walk, but whatever you call pulling along a line like this?"

"Awkward lack in the language isn't it? You learn to just phrase around the method to say that you are going to a location, or follow the corridor to such and such. Some folks it would be truthful to say they fly, or jump, but nobody does. There is a platform with seats and luggage straps that cycles back and forth to both ends. It takes about five minutes each way if you want to wait for it. Or if you want there are four hand rails spaced about. There is an arrow on the wall by each showing the customary direction. Otherwise if you meet somebody going the other way in the middle it can be awkward passing each other."

"How far to the elevators on the south end?"

"Just shy of three-hundred meters and they are just short of the opposite bearing into the other non-rotating hub. You will pass two other sets of spokes with elevators. The first is not open to the public right now as it is under construction."

He followed the line hand over hand over to where it terminated under the opening. Freidman was standing there, holding himself against the floor, his small carry-on bag floating on its shoulder strap. His head was tilted back and he was gazing up through the opening.

"My brain can't decide if it is up or down," he admitted

Brockman looked up and saw what he meant. You could see down the tube through the hole clear to the other end three hundred meters away. Then for an instant he saw it as down and his gut tightened at the idea of falling down this huge well in front of him. It was terrifying. There was something coming up the side of the tube towards them and he realized it was the transport platform that ran along a track with seats and room to attach your luggage.

"That's our ride to the other end. Let's get, uh, over there before we miss it." He looked at the rail slowly turning above him. There was no easy way to rig a line through it and they hadn't bothered. No need to hurry. Accuracy meant more than speed here. He squatted slightly, braced against the end stanchion and jumped. For the first time he was really flying through the air with nothing in reach.

When he got close to the rail he reached out and grabbed it. Reaching made his body lean away, but not so bad he couldn't get ahold of it. Next time he'd aim toward the edge a little more to allow for that. The rail slid through his hand as he gripped it and he swung trailing as it pulled him along. He hadn't pictured that is his mind very well and it swung him with his back against the rail. It was easily corrected once he was up to speed, but awkward. Freidman joined him, but grabbed the rail left handed and stayed face to it as it pulled him along.

Now the rail and the entire long tube and everything on this side seemed at rest and looking back through the opening was like looking in the tub of a clothes dryer. There was another line rigged from the rail to the terminus of the transport sled, which was quite a bit closer. He worked his way around the rail hand over hand to the line and down it to the end of the rail.

"The carriage will arrive in - thirty-two seconds", a screen on the wall counted down. An older lady was the only passenger. When it silently stopped the display changed to: "The carriage will depart in thirty seconds." A square under the count said "Touch here for delay to board freight."

Eric expected the lady to push herself over to the hand line where he was waiting clinging, but she gave them a nod hello and a small smile that was likely amusement. She jumped straight to the bulkhead behind them where there was a sort of grab bar and bounced off into the opening they'd just left. She did a turnover in mid-air ignoring the rail and did a complicated two foot skipping bounce off the rotating wall of the tube with a squeak of her rubber soled shoes and vanished from their sight. Eric pushed off the end stanchion that supported the line and managed to hit the seat he was aiming at. He reached across himself and grabbed the seat arm and rotated himself around so he could pull his butt back into the seat. There was a thin elastic belt he gratefully snapped across his hips. Isaac Freidman was still stuffing himself into his when the conveyance started back up and almost tipped him sideways out of his seat. He managed to grab the belt itself and pulled himself back. His case swung around behind him as it was pulled along too.

"We must look ridiculous," Isaac muttered.

"Yes, the lady who just got off was kind enough not to laugh out loud," he agreed.

There was no line rigged at the other end, but there were take-hold bars around the three elevators. One was clearly marked for the cafeteria. The elevator itself had take-holds and toe straps. There were graphic signs and instructions in four languages inside explaining perceived gravity would appear as the elevator descended. Indeed, one surface was marked FLOOR in English and Japanese and then a whole laundry list of other languages. They both skipped the toe hold and braced themselves in the corners where they could have a hand on both rails.

The indicator lights showed there were levels A through D and corresponding Japanese symbols. It seemed to move slowly. It took about two minutes before they started feeling some pressure on their feet. At about three and a half minutes they had some definite weight and they reached the D level and a fellow in work clothing with a tool belt got on board. He glided on with delicate little foot movements, but didn't grab hold or use a toe strap. Instead of punching the touch screen he just called out, "A level." They hadn't known you could do that.

He looked them over critically and asked, "New guys?"

"Yes, we just got off the shuttle," Freidman admitted.

"Welcome aboard," he allowed. "Try not to bust anything," he said, smiling. "I'll probably have to fix it if you do." He didn't introduce himself.

D to A level went much faster than the upper part of their journey. When the doors opened there was an arrow pointing to the cafeteria and for the first time a bunch of people going about their business. They followed the maintenance man down the wide corridor past a couple businesses. Their noses said they were headed the right direction. There was a mix of savory odors. Every person they passed was wearing data spex, even a little girl who was maybe nine. Several people they passed had holstered pistols, but when a young woman passed them with an Uzi slung over her shoulder they could help looking at each other.

"I feel naked," Freidman told him in a low voice.

"I hear you brother. I haven't seen this many civilians packing since serving in Persia."

The maintenance fellow was already having plates set on his tray. There was a big screen with the specials for the day and then a larger list of standard items. A cheeseburger was $48USNA and fries $18. A half chicken roasted with potato, vegetable and rolls was $68 and coffee $5. Eric had about $700 in his wallet and didn't think Freidman had that much. It wouldn't last long at these prices.

The server was a pleasant enough young woman. 'Wanda' said the tag embroidered on her blouse. She had a diamond ring on that had about a three carat stone. Eric had an eye for jewelry and the metalwork said it was real to him. He didn't expect that sort of a ring on a cafeteria worker. Just then an older woman came in from the rear.

"I got it," she told the young one, "you go on home." Her blouse named her Ruby.

"Thank you honey, the sales report is printed out and on the desk, these two and one other came in after I ran it."

"That's fine." She agreed, turning back to the serving counter. "Brockman and Freidman I presume. Welcome to Home."

Eric was shocked speechless. Freidman actually had his mouth hanging open.

"Home is like a small town. Don't figure on keeping any secrets and you won't be disappointed," Ruby advised them. "Did you want something to eat?" she prompted them, since they seemed transfixed.

"Uh, yeah. I'd like the hamburger, no fries," Brockman managed, "and is there any charge for the water?

"You broke?" Ruby asked directly, but too softly to carry to the dining room. "Just off the shuttle you gotta be starved. Nobody your size is going to go very far on a bare burger and nobody just drinks water, 'cept a few health nuts." He couldn't take offence at her prying, because there was genuine concern in her voice and in her expression.

"Yes ma'am, I have to admit we are very low on funds, not sure where more is coming from and it seems very prudent not to blow it all in a day. I see that wouldn't be hard to do here."

"Nobody buys off the menu board full price unless they are just here for a day or two. Residents buy monthly access and can come in as often as they please. But what I'm hearing is that would be too dear if you are counting days. Am I right?"

"I'm afraid so. We have some work coming in six to twelve hours, but I'm not sure what it will pay and then we'll be looking for something. We also have to keep back funds to get access to station com too so we can contact this employer."

"You both order up a decent meal, something that will stick with you and I'll put it on my card. My husband and I never use up our full service. After being here a full shift last thing I want is to come back and eat supper here too. Besides, my husband is an excellent cook. I can do that a few days until you get established, so don't be shy to come back."

"Thank you. It means more than I can say. We have someone who got us up here, but no real promises if she'd sponsor us past that. We were frankly just concerned with getting out of North America with our hides and not too picky about the details."

"Um hmm," Ruby was pursing her lips like she either knew all that or wasn't much interested. "Pick something and then we'll get some of those other details out of the way for you. There is a shortage of qualified help in most fields here, so don't get all down just yet."

"I'd like the roast beef dinner, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and coffee, please."

Ruby lifted an inquiring eyebrow to Freidman.

"That sounds fine to me too, I'll have the same and my thanks too."

"Freidman sounds Jewish," Ruby guessed. "Are you observant? The gravy has mushrooms, but I can put some chicken gravy on it if you'd rather."

"No need, I'm not very religious that way. My parents weren't either."

The portion seemed generous and included a small salad and a couple slices of wheat bread and real butter. They took the trays to the far wall away from the few groups.

"Are you going to ask her how she knew who we were?" Freidman asked.

"Not me. I figure they make the passenger manifest public and she read it. The thing that is surprising  is she is interested enough to read it. It can't be just for us. She must make the effort to check it out whenever a shuttle comes in."

"She's a neighborhood watchdog. I've seen one before. Having one can be very good or a constant trial depending on if she is the sort that calls the cops when she sees somebody breaking into your place, or if she is the sort who calls the city because you haven't taken your trash can in fast enough for her."

"Well we seem to be very much in her good graces and I'd certainly like to keep it that way. I do wonder if she knows not just our names, but who we are. I'm not about to ask because it can't make matters better as far as I can see and it might easily make them worse."

Freidman just nodded enthusiastically, his mouth being full.

Ruby finished serving another customer and called out fairly loudly to the dining room. "Gabriel! If you're done eating I have an errand for you." A lanky teenage boy closed up the hand comp he was reading, cleaned up his tray and went around behind the counter out of sight.

It wasn't long before the kid reappeared at their table.  "Ms. Dixon said to ask how you want to be listed on station com and I'm to run and get you spex while you are eating."

"Don't you need to take some money along for that?" Freidman asked.

"If Ms. Dixon asks Zack to send you spex he'll do it on her say-so."

"I'm getting the impression Ruby is not a simple waitress," Isaac Freidman said.

"There is nothing simple about Ms. Dixon," the boy informed him frowning at such an idea. "She always knows what's going on and her husband Easy is sudden death in both hands," he said holding his hands out open and closing them. "You keep both of them happy with you and life gets a lot simpler on Home. I'm pleased to do her a little favor anytime she wants."

"How does she do this? Do you know?" Brockman asked.

"I've got no idea. You know how a snoop may know you are taking up with a new lady before your current sweetie or your mama knows?"

"Yes, I've seen that sort of thing before," Brockman admitted.

"Well Ms. Dixon is nothing like that," the young fellow told him. He turned his head a little like he wanted to check she wasn't right behind him and then stopped. "She knows you're going to take up with the new girl before you realize you're thinking on it. It's scary," he assured them.

"That's interesting," Eric agreed, privately reserving judgment that he must be exaggerating just a little. "Would you happen to know what sort of background she's from?"

"She's from Detroit, spent a hitch in the Air Force, she said she was a Loadmaster, whatever that is and she is some kind of doctor of music, taught at a university for awhile."

Eric and Isaac just looked at each other. A cook with a doctorate?

"How you want to be listed? She doesn't see me go soon she's gonna ask why."

"Eric Brockman is fine."

"Isaac Freidman is good for my com," his buddy said. "You want it written down?"

"Not unless you use some weird spelling. I'm young, not stupid," he told them.

"No insult intended young man," Brockman apologized.

"That's okay, you're used to Earthies. I won't be long." He left jogging.

"After we see if Santos is on com I'd like to call Miss Lewis," Isaac said.

"Sounds like a plan," Eric agreed.

* * *

The sovereign of Spain, Carlos, called up his cousin Phillip who was a horse nut. He pretty much invited himself to their estate for a 'few days'. No need to be too specific in case his wife didn't recover as quickly as he hoped. Being king it was pretty hard to turn him down, but truth was Phillip really did like him. It was easy enough to tell the difference. Not that he wouldn't occasionally impose himself on someone who found him in dislike, if say the fellow had a problem like an over abundance of pheasant or partridge with which he would lend a corrective hand.

Phillip knew from the past that Carlos was an easy guest who didn't hang on your elbow all needy. In fact if he had a reason to be gone a day himself it was no problem. The servants kept the place running smoothly and an extra guest or ten was no problem.

The very next morning in fact Phillip did exactly that, running off for a business meeting and leaving Carlos to breakfast with his family and another guest. His wife Adriana was with child and no great horsewoman anyway, so he asked their other guest if he'd like a ride? When he declined he was reduced to finding a riding partner from among the stable hands. His security rode, but they were no fun. They spent all their attention scanning the trees for snipers and made single word replies or even grunts to his attempts at conversation.

Ernest, one of the trainers, was happy to go with him, saying he had a Bay that needed to be exercised. He started saddling her up and was going to do the Appaloosa the king had favored before next, while the security fellows took care of their own. They had been here before. Carlos threw a blanket on his ride antsy to go and waved Ernest away when he tried to his help.

"I guess I remember how to saddle a horse just fine," he groused. "It's not like my arm is broken." He lofted the saddle in place with an ease Ernest honestly hadn't felt in a few years. He soon caught up and they finished about the same time. Earnest usually gave his sovereign a little help to mount, his horse was pretty tall, but before he could approach to do that he swung up in the saddle with ease, eager to get going. In fact he clicked his tongue at the big gelding right out of the gate and gave him a little heel. "Wake up big boy!" he barked at the horse and brought him to a trot, laughing. He was too far ahead to see the amazed expression on the trainer's face.

* * *

"Hello, are you Miss Lewis?" the young man on com asked earnestly.

"I'm April, unless you are a bill collector, in which case you have the wrong com code. But we won't be talking long if you don't identify yourself."

"Of course, I'm afraid I'm paying so much attention to how to make the call that I'm forgetting basic phone courtesy. I'm the Eric Brockman, who wrote and requested your help to get myself and Isaac Freidman to Home. Gabriel, a young friend of Ruby the cafeteria worker, obtained spex for us and he's showing me how to detach a camera and establish a call to you. Here, let me show you my buddy Isaac."  The camera swung to the side and showed another face wearing spex. The fellow brought a hand up and gave a tentative wave.

"Have him show you how to bring Isaac in on a conference call," April suggested.

"Sure, that's no problem," a detached voice assured him. First we set up your camera the same, like this. You see a thumbnail down in the corner?  Okay, now go back and pull down the menu for com and pick the network icon, now click on the plus and you'll have a line that says - build a conference call. Now pull down your addresses and double blink on Freidman." Her screen split so both lieutenants were visible.

"So you finally made it up here! I wasn't able to communicate with Papa-san for a long time. I had no idea what was happening, but he said he'd collect you if I couldn't, so I had every confidence in him it would happen. He doesn't make promises lightly," she assured them.

"So you didn't hear the reports his ship was lost?"

"I did, but discounted them given the sparse report. If they had a body and claimed a DNA match I'd start to worry. A dinghy and some junk on a beach? No way. Papa-san wouldn't bite off more than he can chew sailing and I've rode through a storm with him before."

"We were fortunate enough to have relatively calm sailing, but in general we observed the same level of competence you're suggesting in everything he did. We really appreciate your efforts to help us. It's no exaggeration to say we owe you our lives."

"Well you are certainly forgiving for the fact we were turning a mountain to gravel while you were trying to get out from under it. Glad you don't hold a grudge," she laughed.

"It was war. I'm not about to sulk because you did it better than us," Freidman spoke up.

"And glad it's over," Brockman took the conversation back. He seemed the dominant one.

"I'm sure you had some adventures though. I'd like to get together when you can and hear some. I'm always looking for breakfast partners if you could meet me some morning soon."

"Actually, we need to see you for business if you could arrange a service for us. We should have asked Mr. Santos if he could help us close out our North American bank accounts, but it didn't occur to us to impose even further upon him at the time. Now that we are up here he suggested you might know somebody better positioned to do it from Home. He indicated his contacts on Earth worked much better face to face and doing a physical delivery."

April got an abstracted look and pursed her lips up. "I'll have to ask someone. He is a partner on the same bank board with me and he recently did basically the same thing for me, but that was from an Italian bank. I don't know if his reach extends into North America. Give me a second."

April was talking to somebody she didn't invite into the call. Freidman looked at Brockman and silently mouthed, bank board? Brockman just looked off at the screen above their tables showing an environmental scene ignoring the aside. It looked to be Oriental from the style of the decorative bridge and the Koi fish gliding along beneath the flowering lily pads. April could still see them even if she was focused on somebody else. Something that simple she might lip read.

Their displays suddenly added a young man, older than April but still maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. He didn't look like a bank executive either.

"Hello, I'm Jeff Singh, Senior Partner of the System Trade Bank of Home. Do I understand you have not made any attempt to access your account since you have been at odds with North America?"

"No, we were always afraid if we withdrew cash or paid for something it would bring them right down on us in short order," Brockman explained.

"Very likely, but you don't care if they know you are on Home now?" Jeff asked.

"If we aren't safe here where will we ever be safe?" Brockman asked. "We don't have the skills to create new identities and probably don't have the funds for it even if you know somebody who could arrange it. Yeah, we'll stop trying to hide now that we're on Home."

"That's your judgment if you don't think they want you bad enough to send assassins. Now, our bank doesn't have direct access to the North American banking system. I doubt that we will be welcome to do business in North America for a long, long time, given the political animosities."

"However The Private Bank of Home is grandfathered into that system and they have not tried to toss them out yet. They have a number of very influential Japanese owners they likely don't want to provoke. We have a good working relationship with them. We'll find out if they can extract your funds and then we'll see about moving them where they can't be clawed back. Are you free to meet me over there at the moment?"

"You bet we are. If you can grab those funds it will make things a lot easier for us. What sort of fees do you think will apply?" Brockman asked.

"Why, just the usual wire transfer fee, I believe they charge a hundred dollars USNA at this end to receive it. No charge to open an account with us. That moves it where they can't demand it back. Do you need a card to access it? Or would you like some cash?" Jeff offered.

"What is the currency on Home?" Freidman finally got a word in.

"There is no official currency. The System Trade Bank is coining twenty-five gram platinum coins called Solars, but they are not in wide circulation yet. Most folks use EuroMarks or USNA Dollars. There are some Tongan Pa'Anga floating around because they lift most of our supply. You don't see much else in any quantity. Plastic is the norm except for a few small service businesses and private clubs."

"Then a card for each of us," Brockman at least checked for a visual okay from Freidman, "and a small amount of cash."

"I'll meet you in about a half hour then?" Jeff asked. "It's getting late into first shift and they don't keep their doors open the off shifts."

"That's fine," Brockman agreed.

"See you over there," April agreed and logged off.

"Miss Lewis is coming?" Freidman asked surprised.

"You heard she has an interest. Surely you would like to meet our benefactress?" Brockman asked.

"Of course. I guess I'm just feeling swept away by events. We have so very little control over what happens to us now. It's scary."

"Ha! Scary would have been going into Jackman and turning ourselves in to the local cop."

"No, might as well shoot ourselves in the head and save them the trouble," Freidman said, then there was an uncomfortable silence, because Freidman had come close to doing just that after he shot President Hadley.

Gabriel was sitting patiently, watching them use the spex. "Are you gentlemen satisfied with the gear?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh yeah, It's nicer than the military grade stuff we used in the Navy," Freidman gushed. "Here," he said grabbing his wallet, "you need something for your time," he insisted.

"Ms. Dixon sent me," Gabriel reminded him standing up and stepping back from the table. "She'll take care of me. She'd be irritated with me if I cashed in on her kindness. You can remember me if you have some other work for me. I'm the only Gabriel on station com. If you need a courier or escort for Earth people, tutor for young kids, a bartender or server at a party, any kind of odd jobs like that you give me a call."

"Bartender?" Freidman asked after he walked away. "He doesn't look old enough to drink."

"Who knows what the law is on that here?" Brockman pointed out. "We really didn't get to research Home like we would have if we hadn't been in hiding. I suspect we should have done so with more diligence when we were on the Santos boat, or even just asked them. I bet they researched Home a lot better than us before deciding to come up."

"We were sort of committed in any case. After all the stress of sneaking around and hiding it was too easy to relax and take a break from constant vigilance. Time to buckle down again."

"Yes and maybe we can hire Gabriel to tutor us on local custom and law after we get done with whatever Santos needs," Brockman suggested.

* * *

Papa-san looked over the rooms they'd just rented critically. He was used to better accommodations, certainly more spacious, on his boat. That and the lack of any natural surfaces like wood or stone was sterile and depressing. He expected better, even for a Holiday Inn.

"It's temporary," Mother reminded him. Not needing to ask what he thought at all. It was plainly written on his face.

"Remove the ability to turn the lights off and this would make a wonderful sensory deprivation cell," he grumbled.

"When we are out I'll find a florist and buy a plant or spray of cuttings for the corner there. We can add a few humanizing touches and take them with us when we move to other quarters," Mother proposed. "I suppose there are probably some prints to be had and surely the big screen there can be tuned to some pleasant environmental channel."

"You make anywhere home," he complimented her. "Good thing I have you to keep me sane. Sort of…" he added after a pause.

"I value much of your craziness," she admitted giving him a hug.

"Let's see if the cafeteria food is as bland as the rooms," he suggested. "If it is let's open our own place and drive them out of business."

"Let me change into something warmer. They keep it cooler here than I expected."

"That's fine, but keep it good for zero G in case they call us for the freight shuttle and you might bring a jacket or sweater too, because it might be cooler yet near the dock."

"Are you going to call the lieutenants?"

"Not until we have a docking time. Let's just have dinner for now and relax."

"Yes dear," she agreed, amused at the idea of him relaxing. Maybe on the surface.

Chapter 27

"Pretty expensive looking place," Freidman said while they were still outside. The dark wooden panels and green trim would have looked rich even on Earth.

"Freidman and Brockman," Isaac announced to the clerk occupying the desk nearest the entry. Brockman seemed unusually intimidated. "I believe Mr. Singh should have called by now and set up an appointment for us."

"Yes, the director is setting up in his office and Mr. Singh is on his way. Let me show you in, would you like some coffee or other beverage?"

"Coffee would be nice, just black for both of us please," Isaac still spoke for them.

The office he led them to was an oddity. It was the director's office at one end with a desk and a glass wall into the common area, but behind a short conference table that seated six and had a huge screen on the far end wall. You'd never see them combined like this on Earth. There were two men in traditional Earth business dress working at open computers on the long table.

The front desk minion announced them, but did no introductions and disappeared to get the offered coffee. The older man, Irwin Hall, introduced himself as the director and asked for their identification and bank cards. His associate Dan Prescott just looked up from the computer and nodded when he was introduced.

"I understand we probably have one shot at a wire transfer and then once your authorities have you located there will no advantage to keeping the accounts accessible. It's good you deal with separate banks. We are doubly fortunate both your banks allow you to initiate wire transfers electronically. Only about a third of American banks do so. We're going to try to do both transfers as close to simultaneously as possible. If you'd write out your password it will save seconds accessing the account. I doubt you'll need it again, but if they would leave the account open for some reason you can always change it."

"So you are opening accounts for us to accept the transfer?" Isaac asked.

"Yes, but as soon as it is confirmed we shall do another wire to The System Trade Bank, Mr. Singh's firm and close out your account. If you should care to do business with us later we'd welcome that, but if the Earth banks attempt to ask for the funds back it simplifies it for both you and for us to not even have a current account to debit."

Jeff poked his head in the door. "Ready for us?" he asked Hall. At a nod he came in with his own computer and a stuffed portfolio. April was right behind. They shook the lieutenant's hands, but they'd just met them on com so they didn't waste time on formalities.

"This creates your accounts with the System Bank," Jeff told them. "I need your full legal name and your com code to receive statements. These are your bank cards," he said laying them by the other bank's papers. "They are issued through Standard Russian Bank of St. Petersburg. We automatically debit your account and forward it to the Standard bank whenever you use the card. There is no fee for retail, but getting cash at a machine can have fees so I suggest you come in here and present your card or call me on com if you need cash and I'll have it couriered to you."

"You work with Russians to issue bank cards?" Brockman asked uncertain.

"Yes, they are a large dependable bank with a big card customer base. I don't expect you to have any trouble presenting the card anywhere on Earth or off. I just got our first fifty cards this week and you two are among the first customers. We use a European payment settlement service too, no North American connections at all."

"These are taste lock cards!" Freidman said picking one up. "I've only seen one in movies."

"That's all we got. Don't worry, there is no minimum balance. I could issue one to a fifty buck account if I wanted. We'll absorb the expense."

"And these documents create your accounts at the Private Bank of Home," Hall said sliding his forms next to Jeff's. "I need a dollar each from you to create the accounts before we can wire into them. Then of course they will close as soon as the money is passed on to the System Bank."

Eric and Isaac both produced a dollar and slapped it on the table and scribbled out their passwords.

"I suggest when I obtain a balance we leave a nominal sum in the account rather than close it out. A close out often triggers human intervention and action to freeze an account for ninety days, supposedly to give outstanding debits time to filter in."

"Sure, leave twenty bucks in my account," Freidman volunteered.

"Sounds good," Brockman agreed.

They signed the Private Bank papers and then the System Bank. Jeff signed and pulled a cylinder out of his pocket and pressed it after his name and held a button down on the end. When he lifted it there was a complex seal printed with a rainbow spread of color across it.

"Is that some sort of notary seal? Wouldn't you need witnesses? Isaac asked.

"It's my hanko. Not my personal one, I have one of those, but my official seal for the bank. If you do much business with the Japanese you'll find it expedites things. These are much more secure than the old carved sort. It needs my thumb on it to print."

"We seem to have everything. Are you ready to do this?" Hall asked.

Brockman just nodded nervously.

"Yeah, do it." Freidman agreed.

"And I'm in," Hall announced. "Filling out form. Do those numbers look right to you?" he asked Brockman as he typed.

"Yeah, that's about right. It's crazy, but I think they have been paying me all this time."

"I'm also printing a detailed statement for the past year while I am logged on. Okay, your account with us is transferred to the System Bank and closed out. It's been nice doing business with you," he quipped with a smile.

"No joy here," his underling Dan announced. "This says Isaac Freidman is deceased and your estate was settled by your executor without probate and the account is closed. It's dated almost a year ago."

"They think I died in the Deepwell bunker!" Freidman exclaimed.

"Aren't there eyewitnesses who would have placed you outside the bunker?" April asked.

"I transferred to Brockman's vehicle while the attack was in progress. All the duty records would have been inside the collapsed mountain. The driver of the vehicle I left may have never reported the transfer. He may not have survived for all I know."

"And you didn't see anyone else once you were with Brockman?" April asked interested.

"Uh, basically anyone who saw us after that we shot dead," he admitted.

"That sort of thing happens in war," Hall noted with a shrug. "It isn't all bad. You don't have to worry about them coming after a dead man. I would consider letting your death record stand as a convenience unless you have a compelling reason not to do so."

"No, I have no siblings and my parents are dead. I have no close relatives with whom I want to get back in contact. Just an elderly uncle who never much cared for me."

"Mr. Singh," Brockman spoke up frowning, "Isaac and I have been partners over a year. We depended on each other for survival. He provided the place we sheltered in the Maine woods. I'd like you to divide the funds you were able to recover for me equally into both our accounts."

"Crap, you don't have to do that Eric. We never made any share and share alike agreement."

"No, but it's what I feel is right."

"Well, thank you. That's very decent of you," Freidman acknowledged.

"Ah and here comes the clawback already," Hall told them. "Sorry boys, those funds flew the coop many, many milliseconds ago," he said as he typed a response in. "The silly people figured he's buying a pizza or something. They could have restricted the account but they were just a little too confident to do that. Too bad," he said but didn't sound like he meant it.

"I'm going over to the cafeteria for a meal," April informed them. "If you have time to come along and talk I'd love to hear more about your escape."

"We just had a meal, but we'll sit and have coffee with you," Brockman offered. "We need to call Mr. Santos however and may need to leave suddenly to do some work for him."

"Of course, necessity always takes precedence," she agreed.

* * *

"If you stay with me I intend to share out the profits from each season according to time in service and rank. You'd be number two and in at the start so you'd do well. I'll have to set a certain amount aside for maintenance and repair, but I won't be making much more than crew," Li assured Tara.

"But you aren't paying out actual shares of the boat?" Tara asked.

"No, I feel too deeply about the Tobiuo to risk control of her. You give out two percent here and five percent there, people retire or move on. Next thing you know you own less than half and the owners are telling you they don't want you to command her anymore."

"I understand, but I'm much like you, I want something for myself, not just to be a hired hand," Tara explained. "It doesn't mean I lack regard for you."

Li nodded understanding. "You will get some separation money from the Santos. I honestly don't have any idea how much yet. He has to dispose of some properties. If you stay for a season or two to save your wages after your share is distributed that's fine too. I will just know it's a temporary thing and use the time to groom another for second. If you feel you can reach your goals faster elsewhere, well, I wish you well and hope you are glad to see my face if we should chance upon each other."

"I'll wait and see what I am gifted for my service and tell you that day if I'm with you the next sailing season or not. Is that agreeable?" he asked Li.

"That's entirely agreeable."

"Do you then intend to groom Haru as your second officer?" Tara asked.

"No, Haru is a good hand, but I could never sleep easy with him standing a night watch at the wheel alone. He lacks a certain attentiveness that worries me." He frowned and gestured like he was uncertain what to say. "Not that you would find him sleeping at his watch, but he is given to going off in deep thought that leaves him blind to what his eyes are seeing."

"Yes exactly. I'm glad you know it. If you'd asked I'd have said something similar, that he is given to daydreaming. I'm glad you already knew it."

"If I should stay with you a cruising season, do you know where you want to set up in business?"

"Yes, we will be going to Italy. And if you stay a season you should expect to take her out with clients a few times without me."

"That seems a great deal to trust to somebody who is temporary."

"You are not one to slack off until you are stepping on the dock with your bag on your shoulder waving goodbye. I have some medical things to attend to in Italy. We'll need another hand even if you were staying."

"Oh that," Tara said surprised. Yes that's something for me to think on too," he admitted.

"The master counseled that it was something best done while conditions are stable and funds to hand. He seemed to think things might be stormy and uncertain not so far in the future."

"Did he now? You have the advantage of me there. He was kind enough to me but we never spoke of serious matters in such depth."

"I was in his household much longer," Li pointed out. "To reveal so much of his thoughts was not something he did easily with me either. But here, I'm sharing  it with you," he said, gesturing with his cupped hand like it was laying on his palm.

"There is safety on the sea and provisions and work when things are going poorly ashore isn't there?" Tara asked.

"To a degree. You still have fittings and gear you have to replenish in port. It's not like in the old days you could put in at an island and hack down a tree for a new mast."

"But the sea will feed you and gives you places to hide."

"And when things are going badly there are more pirates on the water and the coast guards themselves can turn their hand to quiet lawlessness if they can hide it. One needs to have teeth."

"I'll consider all that when I give you my answer," Tara promised.

"If you leave will you go back home?" Li asked.

"Where is home? Hawaii is nice, but I'm not sure I want to stay there. Japan is stifling and my family seem like aliens now. I might take the master's decision for a wise one and follow him off planet."

That was the first answer with which Tara really surprised him.

* * *

"What is Papa-san hiring you to do?" April asked between bites.

Freidman was holding his mug in both hands like they were cold. Some people did find the station cooler than they were accustomed to on Earth. He gave Brockman a look that invited him to answer.

"He has an unmanned shuttle coming in and he'd like some security unloading and taking it to storage," Eric answered minimally. "I'm concerned actually," he said turning and addressing his buddy. "They will be unloading at the north end in zero G. We were almost helpless even with lines rigged to let us pull ourselves along. How can we pretend to work as security where we can't handle ourselves? I can't in good conscience do it and Papa-san is no idiot. He'll immediately see we are out of our depth."

"Beyond the bearing is a security zone," April pointed out. "You are going to have station security there and it would be stupid to try anything bottled up there. The danger, if there really is any, would be once you get into spin."

"Well we can hardly tell him we'll wait at the elevator and take it from there. We need the work but I want to earn it honestly, not take charity make-work from Papa-san."

"Would you split the job with another zero G qualified team?" April asked.

"You and your body guard?" Eric asked. He looked like he was afraid it was a joke.

"No, Gunny is not qualified either," she didn't speak to herself. "I know a duo who fled to Home from New Las Vegas. Got a lift on a French ship. They are doing contract work as they can find it and they are good at zero G handling. Maybe not like some of the beam dogs who can deal cards with their toes, but they know weapons and weightless martial arts."

"I'm not sure what would be reasonable to offer them," Brockman worried. "I wasn't going to press Papa-san for a contract and just accept whatever he wanted to offer. If he doesn't realize the rate up here I could end up owing them more than we made."

"Surely you won't need them more than a half shift. Two thousand bucks each USNA should make them happy," she frowned, "Maybe even fifteen-hundred if you want to offer that first."

"Three thousand wouldn't ruin us," Freidman suggested cautiously. "Certainly Papa-san will be aware of prevailing wages. He'd make it a point to know."

"Let me show you a video of these two in action," April offered. "I'll send it to your spex. This is on New Las Vegas and they had a couple Homeland Security resist arrest." She had their full attention with that story and went back to eating while they watched it. They just occasionally exclaimed, "Oh wow…"

"Yes, call your friends," Brockman told her. "If we can buy talent like that to back us up it'll be worth every cent."

* * *

When they returned to the barn Earnest was tired. The big gelding even more so, well exercised and wet. He needed walked and rubbed down. He expected his sovereign would be wobbly kneed after a ride like that, but instead of easing down to one foot he threw his leg over the saddle in the front and slide off to land two footed with barely a flexed knee.

"No offense young man, but you look kind of haggard. Have you been out partying and not taking care of yourself?" He didn't seem to be sarcastic, but genuinely concerned.

"No, I guess it's just time creeping up on me like everybody else. I am past forty now, Sire."

Carlos let out a perfect horse snort that made the gelding's ears pop up to say what he thought of that excuse. He started taking care of his own tack and Earnest rushed with his. He wasn't about to let his king comb his own horse down no matter how tired he was. At this rate the old man would start mucking out stalls if he didn't get ahead of him.

* * *

"Surely you have some other assets than just your cash money," April asked her lieutenants.

"Not much. You have to remember, we ran for our lives without any warning. We both left all our things in apartments. I assume they are all long ago cleaned out and trashed or stolen, except it turns out Freidman's stuff  went to heirs. We're Navy lieutenants, it's not like we were from wealthy families. We got by month to month and if we had any retirement it was going to be from having enough time in service eventually. We didn't have investments, or art hanging on the walls at home or anything," he joked.

"We stole all the money from the people we shot and found some more in the motor home. We actually robbed the dead President's pocket. He actually had money in his wallet. Damned if I know why. Where would he be walking into a store like regular people to spend it? Isaac's friend had money and Maples cached at his cabin that we used to buy things in town. We need to pay him back eventually," he said, uncomfortable.

"We stripped out the supplies in the motor home. It was well equipped for the President to retreat. We have enough high end firepower now to run a small war and a heap of demo we took before we burned it. All kinds of surveillance equipment and electronics. A lot of those radios and such we left behind. Even our personal pistols are stolen from the Navy. We'll get all that stuff with Papa-san's shipment. He assured us we could own it here legally, but I doubt all of it would sell for much."

"You have the pistols you used to shoot President Hadley and his guards?" April asked.

"Yep, stamped on the slide, 'Government Property' 10mm standard issue pistols."

"Well if you want funds I will offer you one million dollars USNA for those two pistols and a letter of provenance and your account of the shooting to authenticate them."

They both looked at April shocked.

"Hey, it's like owning the pistol Booth used to shoot Lincoln or Hinckley used to shoot Reagan. Those sort of things go in museum cases and are historic treasures."

Brockman looked to Freidman for guidance. "It might actually be worth more later," Freidman mused. "But it gives us a lot of options right now, in hand and she takes the risk of what it is worth later." He thought about it a moment. "I'm inclined to take it."

"Me too," Brockman agreed. "We have the other weapons we looted to actually use. Even those might have some value to collectors eventually. We'll set those two pistols aside, the holsters and stuff like extra magazine holders and issue ammo too." He offered to shake on the deal and April showed them how spacers touch instead of pump.

"Now I know what has been tickling at the back of my mind since the bank," Isaac exclaimed. "We didn't have to give a tax number for the bank. Will we have to pay tax on the price of the pistols? Is it taxable income?"

"We don't tax income," April told him. "If you don't pay tax you don't vote, but it's entirely voluntary. If you want a vote and elect to pay tax it's split evenly between all the citizens who have elected to assume the burden. And they meet annually and decide the budget line by line voting yea or nay."

That appeared to be too much to absorb quickly. They looked at each other, eyebrows lifted again. "We really have to sit and read how things work up here," Freidman told her. "We just couldn't do that hiding out in the Maine woods. But I think we're going to like it," he conceded.

* * *

"Hello my little Sugar Plum, are you feeling any better?" Carlos asked smoothly. His wife's face on his phone was firm and no longer pale, but it still was a mask of irritation, albeit healthy and rosy cheeked.

"I wouldn't be calling you if I weren't," she snipped. "You seem to find the company of horses preferable to mine. Have you been sleeping in a stall?" she inquired.

"Now is that any way to speak of your cousin Phillip?" he said to turn it aside. Phillip was a favorite of hers. "He has been the gracious host and you know their lovely home is hardly a barn. He has me put up in the Blue corner bedroom looking down on the gardens. I know you liked it when we were here together. But if you require my attention I can be on the road home in the hour."

"Actually I'm sick of this stuffy place. People keep coming by to encourage me when I'd just like to be left alone. All this cheer gets cloying after a bit. Cardinal Gasco came by and wouldn't be put off. The idiot sat and actually patted my germy hand. He's eighty-four and he acts like he has a straight line to God so he doesn't need any sense. Do you know, we were in the sun room and when a cloud hid the sun he said, "God took the sun away." Like God guides every cloud by hand to bless or punish him. The man is a lunatic. I wanted to ask him who God was shorting when he got his sunshine, but I was afraid he'd give me a list of sinners."

"Michael's thoughts can seem passing strange," Carlos agreed.

"Well I told him to go wash his hands when he left and he just laughed. Off he went to Rome for some Assembly of Cardinals and had to come home early sick as a dog. That'll teach him to listen to me," she complained.

"Indeed, he seems immune to good advice," he readily agreed.

"How about if instead of coming home I join you there at Phillip's?" she asked. "I do find the Blue Room pleasant and I find myself ravenous today. Phillip's chef can lay on a decent table and they keep trying to amuse me with delicate little snacks and cups of broth here like I am an invalid. I might even go for a ride with you if I can get a decent meal in me."

"That would be wonderful," he agreed. "The woods are pretty right now and Phillip said he has some amusing foreign guests coming who ride. I'd be most happy of your company," he said sincerely. He might have to ride slow and easy for her, but it had been several years since she asked to ride with him so it would be worth it. She seemed to have grown afraid of falling and complained that horses were pungent.

"Fine then. I'll be there in the morning, early and solemnly charge my secretary with keeping secret where I've gone. I'm finding all these solicitous people boring. Goodbye my dear," she said and closed.

My dear, is it again? Carlos thought, amused. Well, that is an improvement on things.

* * *

"Aha, Master Santos, has a docking time," Brockman announced. "I'll drop a message on Mr. Mackay and Holt to meet us at the north bearing and we'll need to go soon. We got that set up none too soon. Thank you April for introductions and for everything."

"Tell Papa-san I'll call to get together with him soon. I'd ask him to breakfast but I need to meet Jeff and Heather for breakfast tomorrow."

"Jeff we know, but who is this Heather?" Freidman asked.

"We three go way back. She is involved right now in a real estate deal on the Moon Jeff and I are both supporting. They had a spot of trouble with the Americans and unfortunately there was some fighting. It's still not all straightened out."

"Perhaps it was bad to be too close to Armstrong," Brockman theorized.

Just then Ruby came up and set a couple soft cooler sacks on their table. "I heard you say you are going off to work. You might get a bit empty out there. Here's something to tide you over." They thanked her, but they were speaking to her back already.

"I swear this is a couple kilos," Brockman said getting up eager to go and hefting his. "It should carry a light platoon over a three day," he estimated.

"Ruby is used to me. I tend to eat a little more with the gene mods. But about Armstrong, they are a really long rover drive away and until recently nobody had even beaten a path from one to the other. Jeff wanted them positioned right smack in the middle of the moon. Right in the middle of the near side facing Earth. He has some idea about putting an abbreviated beanstalk up eventually. It isn't near anything, out in the middle of nowhere really I'd say, but they call it Central."

"My family on my mother's side are all German," Freidman said smiling, getting up ready to leave too. "They would say, Wo sich Fuchs und Hase Gute Nacht sagen. Where the fox and the hare say goodnight."

"That's so cute. I can see them out there without any people saying goodnight so politely. I'm going to have Gabriel paint that up for me with twilight woods and a moon behind them. We have a social association that is named, but the nightclub, the actual place we go, is just a door number and that's what I intend to name it now."

"We're off to work, but we'll look forward to meeting your Heather and seeing this club. Thanks again for all your help," Freidman said and he hurried to catch up with Brockman.

- END -

The Last Part - Other Kindle Books by Mackey Chandler

April (first in series)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EOE2C

April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. She finds herself involved with intrigues that stretch her abilities after a chance run in with a spy. There is a terrible danger she and her friends and family will lose the only home she has ever known in orbit and be forced to live on the slum ball below. It's more than a teen should have to deal with. Fortunately she has a lot of smart friends and allies. It's a good thing because things get very rough and dicey.

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?

Paper or Plastic?

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004RCLW68

Roger was medically discharged after his service in the Pan Arabic Protectorate, cutting off his chosen career path early. He is living in rural Sitra Falls, Oregon trying to deal with hypervigilance and ease back into civilian life.

When an unusual looking young woman enters his favorite breakfast place he befriends her. Little does he know he'll kill for her before lunch and start an adventure that will take him around the world and off planet.

When you have every sort of alphabet agency human and alien hunting for you survival is the hard part. But you might as well get rich too.

Common Ground and Other Stories
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0050YYVHY

A book size collection of seven short stories by Mackey Chandler.

Family Law
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS

You know people who love their dogs. They put them in their will. They forgo vacations to stay home and take care of them.

Can a dog love back or is it simple self interest? Affection or love? Unconditional or a meal-ticket? What if you dog could talk back? Would your dog be less lovable if he could tell you what he thinks like your spouse? If he complained his kibbles were dry and boring would your affection wear thin? I don't want to touch on what a cat might tell you...

Is the dog part of your family or property? Who should decide that for you? How much more complicated will it be if we meet really intelligent species not human?

Humans don't have a very good history of defending the interests of others. Even variations of their own species. How will they treat 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How will they treat us? Usually the people who answer these sort of questions have no desire to be on the pointy end of things. They are just minding their own business and it is thrust upon them. This story explores those questions.

Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2

Mac's Writing Blog: http://www.mackeychandler.com