by Corey Ostman
“We might as well take up the issue of a new protector before we handle the rest of the docket,” Mhau said.
“Yes! Let’s do this now,” said Lee.
Grace could hear the excitement in his voice. He had made this happen, but was too unpolished to let it play out naturally. His father, lips pursed, looked embarrassed. Mhau looked livid. Kyran stared at his ptenda, saying nothing.
“Let’s take a look at the candidate,” Renken said. He didn’t look pleased. It felt hopeless. Grace thought about telling the clash that she’d decided to withdraw.
No. Even if I get shot down by a vote, this could turn on the Larchmonts. Her dad had said that you win at hold-em by betting on yourself, good cards or bad. She would just regroup.
“Protector Donner,” Mhau said, her voice composed though her eyes were like ice. “Why don’t you come up to the front, please?”
The straps on Grace’s chair came off easily, and she stood. The muttering of the roiders near her ceased, and some looked surprised. Grace grinned. Time for the public display. She would make it good.
“We are fortunate to have a licensed, bonded protector visiting Ceres,” said Mhau.
Grace arrived and stood in front of the clash table.
“Ok, there she is. Let’s have the vote and get on with business,” Lee blurted out.
The muttering increased behind her. Grace saw Renken bristle. Good.
“Protector Donner, you may address the clash,” Renken said.
Grace nodded. Kyran had told her to expect this.
“Thank you for the opportunity to speak today,” she said. “I’m going to make this brief.” She turned so she was partially facing the roiders. The speech was mostly for them, anyway.
“In the short time I have been here, I have learned that life on Ceres is very different from life on Earth. This is a rough place to live: harsh environment, dangerous work, few comforts.
“The roiders, technicians, and their families work their butts off to provide water for the belt. Those belt dwellers probably take you all for granted, but you deserve their gratitude. Where else would they find water? Certainly not from Earth.”
There were a few mutters of agreement. Grace continued.
“I’ve come to respect roider life. It’s a brave life, a hard job. The margins of profit here can be slim. No one wants prosperity to fall into others’ hands—treasure lost to this bode. You don’t need the peace of this place compromised by opportunists. You want to slush, and to be left alone.
“If it is your will, I will ensure your safety. Your privacy, and your property. With great enthusiasm.”
Grace bowed her head, signaling an end to her speech. There was some applause from the roiders: not boisterous, but respectable, considering how much of a stranger she was to this small, clannish place. Mhau nodded ever so slightly. Kyran’s attention remained focused on his ptenda. Grace could see he was sweating, despite the temperature. He was not a man for conflict, or this protector issue would have been resolved a while ago. She looked at Renken. What had he thought of her speech? Which way would he go? Vote for Donner and my son is arrested. Vote against Donner and I look bad.
“Well, Protector Donner, thank you for that,” Renken began. “I’m sure you are good at what you do.” He glanced at Lee. “The rough lifestyle in slush colonies is something that we have gotten used to. It has made us resilient regarding the activities to which you alluded. All of us are a little jaded, a little opportunist, as you call us.
“This bode already has a protector,” Renken continued, calmly surveying the audience. “Protector Rander is doing well.” There was a guffaw in the crowd, but Renken soldiered on. “Criminal activities at Bode-6 are at a minimum, aren’t they? Why replace him? In his capacity, for what we need, he is fine.”
He looked through Grace, to the assembly of slushers. “We don’t need Earth sensibilities here. What have they ever given us?” To her dismay, Grace heard murmurs of agreement. “This protector, licensed or not, spent days in a rampage through the bode’s corridors. An ineffective one, I might add,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Will she end the conflicts that are the nature of Ceres life? I think not.”
Grace felt her cheeks flush with anger. She balled her hands into fists, but did not move. Renken ignored her, turning his attention back to the clash members.
“Let’s get this done. Mhau?”
“How well is Protector Rander doing?” Mhau turned to the empty seat. “As you can see, Renken, our protector is not present. It’s time we had one who will make the meetings.
“I say yes,” she said.
“I say no!” Lee had started up without leaving a gap between his first word and Mhau’s last.
Grace thought Renken might wince at Lee’s outburst, but the father remained calm.
“Kyran, what do you say?” he asked.
“I vote yes.” Kyran looked up from his ptenda for the first time since the meeting began.
“Well, as I’ve already stated,” Renken said, “I think Protector Rander should—”
“There is still Jacob’s vote,” Kyran said, cutting off Renken.
Grace was surprised by Kyran’s initiative and, judging by the whispers in the room, so was everyone else.
Lee untethered himself from his chair, enraged.
“He’s not here! Stop wasting our time, Doc.”
“Jacob is here, Lee. Or at least, his vote is,” Kyran said. He unstrapped his ptenda, sliding it across the table toward Lee. Renken intercepted it.
“I received Jacob’s proxy vote an hour ago,” Kyran said. “In his absence on this decision, Jacob votes yes.”
“Proxy vote? That’s not a rule—is it?” Lee yelped.
Renken took a deep draw of air through his nostrils. He showed none of the overt resistance his son displayed, though Grace knew it must be there. The old man was an expert at keeping his cool in public.
“By my count, that’s three to one. Motion carries. The Chair abstains,” Renken said. “Protector Donner?”
“Yes, sir?” Grace said.
“The job is yours. Check your ptenda for the contract by firstrise,” Renken said, his words terse.
“Thank you, sir.” She nodded toward the others. “Members of this clash.”
“Protector Donner,” Renken added.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t break my bode.”
Chapter 15
“What the hell was that all about? You voted against Jacob?” Renken roared, pounding his fist on the table. His face flushed crimson and his brown eyes sizzled. “We didn’t need another protector!”
Mhau waited for the pounding to cease before pouring hot rooibos tea into two cups. She placed her Malabon teapot on a shelf behind her, then slid a cup over to Renken.
“Take a sip,” Mhau said, wrapping her fingers around the cup, enjoying its warmth. Ceres was always too cold for her. The temperature matched the business of the bode. Usually.
Renken looked down at his teacup. His frown relaxed, along with the hue of his face. He looked like he’d concluded his fist-pounding. Her teacups would be safe.
“I know what will happen, Mhau. My boy will get himself arrested.” His voice quavered. He didn’t lift his eyes from the teacup. “But Lee’s businesses are important to the colony. Most of these roiders are fresh from home. They’d go crazy without Ink.”
Mhau watched as Renken debated with the cup. She had never witnessed anything approximating a familial relationship between Renken and Lee. On the other hand, she’d never seen Renken get emotionally worked up over anything as mundane as business. And this was the first time she’d heard him use ‘boy’ when referring to Lee. Maybe there was some affection.
“Ink-trading is prosecuted on Mars,” Mhau said. “Roiders manage to work there.”
“But there’s something to look at on Mars,” said Renken, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Here it’s just slush and black sky.”
“True,” M
hau said, punctuated with a tiny chuckle that she immediately regretted. Renken glared at her, and she knew why: slush and black sky. He’d transmitted that exact phrase to her before she’d left Earth, concerned that the bleakness of the belt might cause her to go stir-crazy. She’d laughed then, too, because what made her happy were things that she could hold in her hands or ideas she could manipulate in her mind. But Renken was always serious about matching the right personality to Bode-6. It was one of the things she respected about him. And to him, the long-term effects of slush and black sky were no laughing matter.
She took another sip of tea. It was more of a slurp than a sip and she burnt the tip of her tongue. Mhau placed her cup on the table and looked across at Renken.
“You know what the colony sponsor would say,” she said. “‘You can’t be profitable without order.’”
“Bah. What does he know? He’s on Mars,” Renken countered.
“How about the murder last month? Lee’s into worse things than streaming Ink,” she said.
“It was an accident, Mhau. It’s under control.”
“Jacob thinks it wasn’t an accident,” she said, staring at him.
Renken stared back. Then he took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Honestly, I’ve never understood what you saw in that worthless sprig of cloisterfolk. To think anybody listens to Jacob is laughable. The man’s a wreck.”
Mhau ground her teeth. “It was a death, Renken. Two unjustifiable deaths in the past year, in a small population on the edge of commercial expansion.”
“Bode-1 had three. With two protectors, I might add.”
“The rest had none, and that is where our business is going,” said Mhau. “Having a protector will bring order here, where crime is threatening to spin out of control. You, of all people, should welcome order.”
“Not in this case,” Renken said, shaking his head. “I know what will happen. Donner is hell bent on arresting Lee for the accidental death of her roider friend. She’s a vigilante, a hothead. It’s no wonder she left Earth.”
“She left Earth to see her friend—”
“ITB fired her, Mhau. Oh, they tucked her away quietly, with a severance package, but that doesn’t change the fact that they got rid of her. She’s bad for business.”
“Bad for business on Earth, perhaps. But here? Roiders run just as hot,” Mhau said.
“Panborn set me up with a trade monopoly, not a cooperative,” said Renken.
“As long as we’re putting out slush—and trust me, roiders will do it better if they’re not on Ink or afraid of dying—our sponsor won’t care how hotheaded our protector is.”
Renken narrowed his eyes. Mhau allowed the silence to extend as they considered one another. Finally, he exhaled through pursed lips.
“The clash has approved her,” said Renken, taking a sip of his cold tea. “And you’ve given me your reasons. We’ll have to see who, in the end, is correct.”
Chapter 16
“What about the isolation pod?” Grace asked.
“What do you mean?” Kyran said, his posture stiffening. “We were talking about arresting Lee.”
“Well,” said Grace, “you were unconvinced that I’d be able to arrest him. But I’ve moved past that.” She smiled. “And I want to know where to put him.”
Kyran shook his head. “No! Not in my isolation pod.”
Tim Trouncer sailed in from the hallway and hovered next to Grace. He had morphed his appearance into a tricolor beagle, and had taken some artistic license by allowing the patches of tan and black and white to float slowly across his mimic surface like clouds across a canine sky.
“Isolation pod?” Tim asked.
“For Lee. When I arrest him,” Grace said.
“I still don’t think you can—” began Kyran.
“It’s a good idea,” the PodPooch said. “He’d be removed from Bode-6 life, and if there were any trouble—”
“I could just threaten to have him sedated,” Grace said. She saw Tim’s face flicker and then settle on his bemused bloodhound expression, with folds appearing in his mimic face where none had been before. He seemed to delight when she finished his thoughts.
“But what if there’s a medical emergency?” Kyran said.
“Have you ever needed to quarantine anyone?” Grace asked.
“No.”
“Well, then, I could certainly put it to better use.”
Kyran shook his head. “You’d better start reviewing Belt Law. Bode-6 could lose its slush concession if we’re unable to demonstrate the ability to provide medical isolation.”
“I promise to give it back, should the need arise,” Grace said. “It’s just until his trial, anyway.”
The door chimed.
Kyran sighed and opened the door.
Plate filled the entire hatchway. He gleamed, from his broad white smile to his polished silver metarm exoskeleton. He’d even shaved.
“Hello, Plate,” Grace said.
Plate gave her a nod.
“That was fast,” Tim said into her dermal dot.
“Pinged him an hour ago,” Grace subvocalized.
“What’s wrong?” Kyran began, but stopped when Plate hauled in a bulging clutch of tools. The doctor peered at the collection of hammers, spanners, claws, and a dubious-looking impact cannon.
Kyran turned to her.
“You planned to commandeer my isolation pod without even asking me?”
“Never,” she said. “Plate just got here a little—”
“Early,” Plate added helpfully.
Kyran’s gaze shifted back to Plate and his tools, then Tim, then finally to the ceiling.
“Oh, all right,” Kyran said. “But let me empty it first. I have some sensitive…” He trailed off as Plate started dragging the tools across his clean floor. “Some sensitive equipment in there.”
“We’ll all help, Ky,” Grace said.
Resigned, Kyran bounced toward her bedroom, motioning for the others to follow. Once inside, he twirled the airlock wheel to the isolation pod and opened the hatch. The pod was filled with boxes on racks.
Kyran sighed. “It’s going to take time to unload all this. And if we receive orders for an inspection, we’ll have to put everything back.”
He grabbed two boxes and bounced past Grace, stacking them beside her bed.
“Before you complain,” Kyran said, “your bedroom is the perfect storage spot. It’s the least you can do for disrupting my pod.”
Grace smiled. “The very least. Don’t worry, I’ll bug you later about finding a permanent home for these things.”
“And I won’t mind,” Tim said in her dot. “I can build forts with them.”
She smiled. “All right, squad! Let’s get to work—move those boxes!”
Kyran returned to the pod to gather another armful.
“Doc, you’re doing it the wrong way,” Plate said. He reached into his tool clutch and produced a handful of casters, each one sporting a ten-centimeter metarm disc for supporting loads. “Use these!”
He tossed three casters toward a stack of boxes, then picked up the entire stack and rested it atop the discs. Kyran whistled appreciatively. Following Plate’s lead, they moved stacks by disc. Some of the cargo labels warned of contents with mass exceeding one hundred kilograms, a burden back on Earth but easily managed here.
“Can’t wait to see Lee locked up,” Plate said, when the boxes were moved. “Let me know if you need any backup, Gracie.”
“Thanks, big guy.” She walked around a stack of boxes, hooked an arm around his shoulders, and squeezed a quick hug.
They inspected the empty pod.
“Platoon,” said Grace, “the jail is going to need a couple of beds and chairs. And some sort of latrine.”
Kyran smiled. “Yes, sir! I was going to mention that, sir.”
Grace smiled back. He’d stopped complaining, and she realized now that his initial reluctance was due to the assumption that he’d need to do all the
work himself. In his medical practice, he did have to do all the work. Kyran needs to remember he has the ability to make friends, to work in a team, she thought. She wondered if he could take on an apprentice.
“There’s a spare toilet in one of the crates,” Kyran said. “And I have patient beds and tables in their own boxes. Not sure which ones, though.”
Tim banked and made a wide arc above the boxes, his nose dipping down as he passed over each stack.
“What’s your PodPooch doing?” Plate asked.
“Playing,” Grace said.
“My ultrasonic rangefinders have detected the distinct reflection of a curved ceramic surface,” Tim said in her dot and Kyran’s. “The toilet is in the crate marked A-7-7-4-X.”
Kyran rubbed his chin and surveyed the boxes. “Oh, it looks like the toilet is here,” he said, pointing to the crate Tim had specified.
“Ok,” Plate said. “Bring it over.” He began unscrewing a pipe panel.
With Tim’s help, they were able to locate three beds, a table, and some chairs. Kyran kept Plate supplied with a steady stream of parts. While they were working, Grace pulled herself over to the airlock door to examine the controls. They were similar to those in her bedroom.
“Can these controls be disabled for someone on the inside?” she asked.
“Yes,” Kyran said. “The pod was meant for medical isolation, so there was an assumption that a patient might be delirious or dangerous.”
“An apt description of our first potential occupant,” Grace said.
“You’ll need a way of protecting the area near the hatch, too,” Tim said in Grace’s dermal. “Otherwise, a prisoner could attack you as you walked in.”
“Suggestion?” she subvocalized.
“I can equip the pod with LEMP,” Tim said. “There are transducers built into the walls for sterile fields. It’s an easy modification to shift their spectra into the offensive weapon range.” The PodPooch pivoted to face Kyran. “Should I be worried about disrupting the electrical systems?”
Kyran shook his head.
“I figured as much,” Tim said. “Fully shielded?”
“That it is,” Kyran said aloud, then winced at his mistake.
