April couldn’t help herself, she could picture that, and started laughing.
Lindsey looked hurt at first but pretty soon she started laughing too.
“I swear, Eric never did anything that stupid,” she admitted.
“My brother decided to raise mushrooms,” April informed Lindsey. “They grew just fine, too fine. There were spores all through the ventilation systems by the time anybody realized there was a problem. People got a lot better after that, about following the filter service intervals. If you let debris collect in a duct corner somewhere in Home you can still get a volunteer crop of mushrooms. All it takes is one getting to maturity and releasing its spores to perpetuate it. I doubt they will ever eradicate them now.”
“April, if I can’t make any other arrangements, can I stay here tonight?”
“Yes, but I need to go to the Moon tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to leave anybody in my place while I’m gone. I’ve never done that for anybody but Gunny, not even Jeff,” April emphasized. “I have an idea of somebody who might be able to take you for awhile, but I’ll have to ask them. Or I could take you to the Moon with us.”
“Us?” Lindsey asked.
“I have an old acquaintance, a Frenchman, who is visiting, but on a quiet official mission. He’s being a bit mysterious about it, and I believe he thinks I can influence Heather for him.” April stopped and frowned. “I do have influence with Heather, but he’s kidding himself if he thinks I’d use it for him without my own well informed agreement that it’s a good thing. I suspect he underestimates just how much the influence runs back from Heather to me. I can’t be bothered to try to pry out of him what he wants, so I’m taking him to Heather and then I’m sure it will all come out.”
“Wow, you’re up to your neck in power politics,” Lindsey said impressed.
“Ick… I’ll be sure to shower and get it all off as soon as possible,” April quipped. She felt a flash of guilt that she was not reciprocating Lindsey’s trust and friendship as fully as she should, again, but she really didn’t want a roomie with no end in sight to the arrangement. At least Lindsey didn’t seem put off that she didn’t immediately offer boundless hospitality.
“I’d be happy to go to the Moon,” Lindsey agreed, “but I should probably make sure my dad wants me to come visit, and warn Eric I’ll be gone, if he wants to hole up somewhere to avoid my mom’s wrath.”
“Hold off just a little. Let me make a call first,” April said. Sylvia was a bit of a mystery to her still. More so that most people she’d known so long. Diana was no mystery at all, she was just – out there – in every possible way. Since she was guesting with Sylvia, April would feel her out, to see if Sylvia still had room for a third guest in her huge cubic, and would entertain a fellow artist. She called from her pad rather than leave Lindsey to go to the com console. After she punched her com code in April smiled at the irony of it. She was hoping to use Diana just like Pierre was trying to use her.
“Hello Sweetie, is that handsome devil you were entertaining at the club still with you?” Diana leered.
“Why? Were you looking for another husband? Number what? Five? I’ve lost count. I’m not sure how you keep them straight,” April said. “Pierre is a friend but he is cut loose to fend for himself today. I don’t believe for a minute you don’t already know who he is. You’ve probably run a credit check on him and hacked his shoe size off the footie machine net. I should just give you his com code.”
“They do sort of blur together. I carry a cheat sheet if I have to fill out paperwork for something. But I’m kind of tied up evaluating your bodyguard right now. I find it really takes all your attention to treat a man right, which just makes sense, because I expect the same of him. So I’ll pass on Pierre, this time.”
“Actually, I think other arrangements are possible, but I’d rather not compare notes. I’ll admit you have the advantage of experience on me. But be warned, Gunny isn’t filthy rich. Actually, what I’m wondering about is your hostess right now. I have a guest for tonight myself, but of the feminine variety, who suddenly finds herself in the corridors with no place to go, through no fault of her own. Since I am taking Pierre to the Moon tomorrow I’d like to inquire if Sylvia can host another artist for awhile. Is she in a good mood? Do you think we could jolly her into taking another house guest?”
Lindsey looked dismayed at the half of the conversation she could hear.
“She seems content,” Diana judged. “Unfortunately, Gunny has security work to go do, and Muños insists he has overstayed just to lend balance as long as Gunny was here, so we might find a guest amusing in the sudden vacuum. May I ask the identity of this mysterious artist to tell Sylvia?”
“You wouldn’t know her, but you’ve seen her work. She’s the one who did all the pictures on my walls, Lindsey Pennington. You’ve met her little brother, the fellow who has a courier service and has brought us breakfast. One of his people brought your flowers from Muños,” April remembered.
“Oh, he was a little sweetie. He’ll be interesting in about ten years too. So his sister must not be all that old? I’ll ask if Sylvia knows her.” The pad muted for a bit while she consulted. She wasn’t gone long at all.
“Sylvia remembers meeting her at your place a long time ago,” Diana said, “she said she was painfully shy then, and hopes she’s gotten over that. She’s been following her work and started waxing poetic about it. I had to cut her off and ask yes or no, because I can tell when she is going to go on and on. The short form is yes, send her on over. Sylvia would be delighted to talk shop with her and we have an extra room open. Send her in the morning or come on over today, it doesn’t matter. We’ll just be hanging out here.”
“Hold on a minute,” April said, and muted the pad. “Lindsey, would you mind if we transfer you over to Sylvia’s today? I don’t mean to rush you off, but they have an actual room and bed for you. Here you’d either have to double up with me or sleep on the couch. I’ll walk you over and introduce you if you want.”
“Sure, thank you for arranging it. You have amazing resources.”
“Yes, she’s happy with that. I’ll walk her over in a bit and we’ll bring her things,” April promised Diana.
* * *
Pierre enjoyed walking through the corridors without security. The sight of a weapon would have had him diving for the pavement at home, if his security didn’t shove him down first and pile on. He was already getting used to seeing the majority of adults armed. Now it just caught his eye when somebody had a long gun instead of a pistol. That seemed so awkward to carry around.
The fellow that just passed him going the other way had that old but young look he was starting to recognize as an indication of life extension therapy. It was subtle, but it really didn’t look like normal middle age if you saw a number of examples. He himself had a few tweaks and edits, but nothing that would trigger alarms from a superficial scan. He had a few bad genes deactivated that predisposed him to serious disease, and one natural gene suite added that was very beneficial but not to be found in the entire population. Both his parents were safely dead, so they could not be tested to show he didn’t inherit it.
The old-young fellow had an old Mosin, cut down to about half the original barrel length, and with a shortened butt-stock. It was slung for low carry in front of him. Pierre wondered if he had any idea how that would sound, fired in a compartment, or even the wider space of a corridor?
He’d read intelligence reports of how the USNA force that invaded Home had been wiped out, trying to penetrate from either end of the station. It had seemed absurd then, but seeing the state of the populace now he was surprised they’d made it as far as the Holiday Inn. According to the reports and video, the lobby had been pretty much destroyed, but there wasn’t any sign of it to be seen now when he’d checked in.
He seemed to attract less attention now that he had local clothing, though once he got in the zero G dock area he’d seen a couple people smile knowingly at him. He wa
s just glad he got smiles of amusement at his clumsiness instead of hostility towards a foreigner.
When the local shuttle to the Barracks, the unspun local housing, docked a half dozen people got off. The few people waiting to get on didn’t surge forward like he expected, so he waited to see why. A man stepped forward and went to a locker right by the opening inside the craft. He punched in a code on the door pad and extracted a pizza in a thermal box with bright advertising. He nodded a thinks to the crowd for letting him recover it. Pierre had real doubts you could train an Earth crowd to do that at say a subway station.
There were no restraints on the seats, which were spacious, but didn’t recline at all. They might as well have been conventional dining room chairs with arms. When the hatch sealed and they departed the gate the reason became apparent. There was barely any acceleration to be felt. Even so, the count-down timer on the forward bulkhead said they would arrive in less than eight minutes. The seats were all oriented the same way, on one surface and facing the combined entry and exit. It was a very specialized single purpose vehicle.
Pierre wasn’t expecting Cheesey’s to take advantage of the zero gravity to maximize seating. When he arrived it was disorienting and he hesitated at the entry to decide where he wanted to go. There were no rails or lines like at the public docks as a concession to the unskilled. If he jumped across the room to the small table he saw empty and missed, he’d land head first out of control on some other diner’s table.
There were a series of take-hold rings around the entry, which were undoubtedly all the locals needed. He eased inside and turned until he could get both feet flat against the bulkhead on the inside, and then launched very carefully and slowly so he could call out a warning if he was going to land on somebody’s diner. He had a vision of fries and drinks scattered in every direction.
By the time he’d pushed off half the room was watching in anticipation. When he reached the table without disaster and gripped the edge, he got a round of applause and everybody went back to eating. Pierre could feel his face flush.
He was aiming for the table in the center, but was off to one side enough his leap picked his chair for him. He jockeyed around holding the edge of the table until he could push his butt in the low backed seat and wrap his legs around the support like everybody else was doing.
“Don’t feel too bad,” A nearby fellow in a sleeveless shirt told him. The man was upside down to him and he found he couldn’t read facial expressions at all that way. “Six years ago when I came up I couldn’t have done as well. Was this your first untethered flight?”
“It was, and it felt about as far as the trip back to ISSII,” Pierre said. The man’s arms were heavily tattooed, and back home Pierre would never have spoken to such a person. Indeed, if he didn’t cover those arms up he’d be arrested for public disorder in France.
“A valiant first try then. I regret to tell you the custom of the house is to give your order verbally to Cheesey over at the grill. If you want I’ll go put it in for you since it’s a more difficult jump.”
Pierre looked, and apparently the only thing keeping one from flying past Cheesey and landing in his kitchen was a single small pole separating his grills and equipment from the dining area. If this were in Europe, Pierre thought, they would mandate a wire mesh wall across the entire volume with one small pass through window.
“That would be a great kindness if you would,” Pierre allowed. The menu board was easily readable from his seat. “I’d like the Big Cheesy rare with mushrooms and Gouda, the Hot Fries with Lime Aioli, and a plain coffee please.” He scrambled to get some money out.
“Don’t bother,” his benefactor waved it away, “consider me the Welcome Wagon. You do know hot means spicy?” he asked.
“Thank you, I can handle spicy,” Pierre assured him.
The fellow pushed off his seat without touching anything with a hand. He did however have on Japanese style socks with separate toes. When he reached the pole he hooked one ankle around it and grabbed it left handed. He gripped the pole to brake and did exactly one turn around it coming to a stop facing the cook. Pierre saw him hook a thumb back over his shoulder at him, and the cook looked across the room at Pierre and nodded. The fellow came back, recovered his own meal, and joined Pierre at his table, without using his hands which were occupied with his meal. Pierre could hardly object to his presumption at joining him, given his help and charity.
“I took your meaning from context, but I’m not familiar with this welcome wagon concept,” Pierre admitted.
“I’m from Canada. Call me Murphy,” he said.
“Pierre,” he replied.
“When I was a kid, we moved to Montreal and we got a postal letter as soon as we moved in telling us to check a web site. They had all sorts of offers and coupons from local businesses and churches. My grandfather told me when he was a boy in Saskatchewan they actually came around to new people in the town and brought a basket of goodies. Like so many of his stories, I remembered that. They just irritated my mom, and when my dad heard them he often said, ‘That was then,’ like that meant it never was.”
It didn’t escape Pierre’s notice Murphy said Canada, not North America.
“If you work high iron, you get to where you can jump for anything below about five hundred meters by your second year,” Murphy said. “If you can’t figure out that you don’t have the knack of it by then, and won’t ever, they’ll give you a down ticket to clue you in. You can only babysit people so long.”
There was a brief sharp whistle and Murphy looked up. The cook launched a covered basket straight across the room. It would have passed right between them if Murphy hadn’t snatched it. He pressed it against the table and it had a sticky bottom to stay there. His coffee was delayed just long enough for Murphy to place the basket, and then casually grab it from the air.
“Bon appétit,” Murphy said, and went back to his own burger.
“Do you happen to know why the name of our host is C-h-e-e-s-ey. But the sandwich is C-h-e-e-s-y without the extra ‘e’?” Pierre wondered.
“No idea. I think he’s Lebanese, so maybe he didn’t know how to spell it back then, and it would probably be a pain in the butt to change it now.”
Pierre nodded. “English isn’t my first language either.”
“I’m off,” Murphy announced, finishing before Pierre. “See you around if you are emigrating.”
“Thank you. I’m off to the Moon tomorrow,” Pierre said. “It may be awhile before I come this way again.”
“Whenever,” Murphy said, unconcerned. “I’ll be around.”
And that, Pierre reflected, seemed to sum up the local attitude very well, laid back and optimistic.
Chapter 9
Agent 103 found the pattern he was looking for buried in the data. It was not, he had to admit, something that would leap out at you if you weren’t doing a very specific and detailed series of searches. He also had three instances of rovers going out the gate that were not only unlogged, but hadn’t appeared in the global tracking software. That violated a host of safety rules as well as being a major corruption of accounting procedures.
Beside fuel and other consumables the pilfering appeared to be building materials. At first 103 thought a scientific station built in the direction of the anomalies was the actual object of interest. But uncensored photos and lists of supplies for that station made him suspect it had been created as a staging area for the real secret that lay beyond it.
The station wasn’t occupied full time, and the geological discoveries being made there didn’t seem significant enough for the expenditures and the breathless news releases about the work. Indeed, 103 suspected some of the supposed discoveries might have been outright frauds, with minerals from other locations brought in to seed the site to excuse funding it.
The clincher was the three unauthorized rover excursions all came during periods that station was temporarily unmanned. For once his quiet secure position as an administrator w
as frustrating. He really had no excuse to seek to go outside at all, much less off to a distant site. He reported what he had, and recovered one camera, because he felt he’d found what he was looking for. The other camera transmitted footage that indicated it was seen, so he erased its memory and deactivated it remotely. He’d have to think on it and see if any excuse to investigate further presented itself.
* * *
“I’m going to call your brother to help move your things and ask him to go with us to Sylvia’s,” April said. “I want to see how he is taking your move, and let Diana see him again. I’m not sure if Sylvia knows or remembers him, but I want to make sure they have him firmly in mind and associate him with me too.”
“Are you going to ask them to do anything for him too?” Lindsey asked. “At least the sort of businesses he does there’s really not much to seize.”
“No, but I want to let them see he’s an associate. I’ll mention he works for Jeff in the bank, and just let them see I’m friendly with him. So if they ever have opportunity or need to help him they know I’ll back it, without trying to lay out specific conditions or scenarios where they should act,” April said.
“I can see how that might work, but wouldn’t it be better to be specific?”
“No, I can see us standing before the Assembly petitioning for your majority. I can make a good case I acted to see you safe when you were standing in the corridor homeless and at risk to anyone who might take advantage of you. If I start doing things for your brother when he doesn’t present as a juvenile in need of sheltering it could be played as a very bad thing. Be aware that somehow just putting your mother off and delaying her for a year won’t fix everything. It would mean you would be an adult if she forced you back to Earth, so she’d have a very hard time taking your things away back on Earth, but you won’t get your majority automatically here. You will still have to petition and have a vote on it.
Been There, Done That Page 13
