Been There, Done That

by Mackey Chandler

  “Of course,” Sylvia replied, “I’ve seen them both in a bulls eye form and stepped along a line, but they’d seem difficult to form into shapes like we sculpt.”

  “Let me draw how I think we could do that for you… ”

  * * *

  Eileen was soaked to above her knees and her feet were so cold they were going numb. The stream was from melting snow, and hadn’t warmed all that much by the time it got down to their land. She stuck the suction tool under the next big rock and jerked the handle back with a long hard pull. She had enough, and climbed over the gravel bank to where Vic was rocking a separator back and forth and emptied the pump into the bucket beside the machine.

  “I should have worn your waders and double sweat pants,” she admitted.

  “Funny isn’t it, how broiling on top doesn’t help freezing on the bottom?”

  “It’s worth it,” Eileen said. “I don’t know when we will have enough to buy a lift ticket, but you can never have too much gold.”

  “It’s going to be as tough to get to where you can sell the gold safely, as it will be to save up enough to buy a couple shuttle tickets.” Vic said. “I notice how the official news we hear repeated never mentions Hawaii now, but Arnold says one of the guys he does business with listens to shortwave, and the news from other countries mention The Free State of Hawaii or the Hawaiian Republic, depending on how they translate. I wouldn’t be surprised if it will be easier to get there than anywhere in Europe or way beyond in the Pacific when it comes time to lift. I hope the legalities are in place by then to sell my land rather than try to keep ownership from afar, and I’d like enough saved to arrive on Home comfortable, not broke.”

  Eileen almost stopped breathing, and forced herself not to visibly react. This was if first time Vic talked about going to space matter-of-factly, that he didn’t say if this or if that, down a whole long list of qualifying circumstances. She wasn’t about to make him regret saying it and spoil the moment.

  * * *

  “Well, well… It would appear that the Martians did give some thought to the practicalities of declaring independence,” Heather said.

  April and Jeff, who were cuddling at the other end of the sofa and about to invite Heather to get involved, were suddenly interested.

  “Did somebody recognize them for free?” April asked.

  “No, that is, not an actual nation-state, and not even for free. They have a laundry list of rich people, activists, and space nuts who are going to buy the Sandman from the European Union and operate it to supply the Martian state. They really can’t offer visitation to that many people, so I imagine they will only offer tours to the very richest of their sponsors,” Heather guessed. “I have no idea what they can offer to the little people who chipped in.”

  “T-shirts? Coffee mugs?” Jeff quipped. “Are school kids sending pennies?”

  “I wouldn’t want to visit,” April said. “If it didn’t turn out to be the utopian paradise you expected and you said the wrong thing… you’re country’s law doesn’t reach there to protect you.”

  “I doubt any of the little people as you put it, who could be safely disappeared will ever be invited,” Jeff said. “Just folks who can pledge a few million EuroMarks a year to have it as a safe backup. Of course the ultra-rich can still can have a terrible accident, but you can’t get away with that too many times.”

  “Backup for what?” April asked, mystified.

  “People at that wealth level often have dual citizenship and hold several passports,” Jeff explained. “So if they get into irreparable legal trouble in one jurisdiction or the government suddenly gets overthrown and you are identified with the old by the new regime you can hustle out of town ahead of the mob.”

  “Watch out that you don’t get in the business of providing a safe haven for refugees from Pavonis Mons, like you did for Armstrong,” April warned Heather.

  “It’s going to be awhile before we have any permanent structure there and anything north of sixty degrees is several times out of any rover range,” Heather assured them. “Besides, that was thrust upon me when they showed up on our doorstep unasked. You’re the lady with the rescue complex.”

  April didn’t try to deny it. It was true.

  * * *

  “Sweetie I have some good news for you,” Diana said, gushing.

  “OK, what’s the punch line?” April demanded.

  “Shame on you! You sound like a cynical old lady, like me. Don’t you know I only have your best interests at heart? Why, we’re neighbors.”

  “We are if the Hawaiians don’t decide to purge all us ‘invaders’ from the islands.” April said. She wasn’t in a mood for glib assurances, just straight talk.

  “I couldn’t blame them in a way,” Diana admitted. “But as a practical matter there simply aren’t enough of them, so they need quite a few of us. To get the specialists any modern civilization needs they have to put up with the rest of us.

  “That was one item of my good news. Your title to your home is guaranteed by the new constitution, and we are grandfathered in, for being long standing land owners as citizens of the Republic of Hawaii.”

  “I’ll have to wait and see what that means,” April said cautiously. “If they want to tax my income up here or put a punitive tax on my house I may decline their citizenship.”

  “I can’t promise, but I predict they will be reasonable. It wouldn’t make any sense to keep all the non-natives and then turn around and drive them away.”

  “No, I suppose not. That looks… promising,” April admitted.

  “The other good news is I have your cut of our lotto sales. It’s a bit more, oh I have to stop using that word that way. It’s somewhat more than two Solars. How would you like me to pay you?”

  “Next time you go to the cafeteria just stop in the Private Bank of Home down the corridor and tell then you want to deposit it to my accounts,” April said. “Irwin certainly knows who I am to credit it to the right account.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Diana said. “Back home in Hawaii they make me show photo ID and prove who I am to deposit to my own account, much less put funds in somebody else’s account.”

  “This is a huge problem for you,” April asked, “strangers sneaking in and dumping unauthorized money in your accounts?”

  Diana didn’t know what to say for a moment. “It’s Earth Think again?”

  April just nodded.

  Chapter 24

  The face on his screen was someone he’d never expected to see again.

  “You know who I am. No names please. I’m calling from Central on the Moon. I’ll be careful not to mention anything confidential,” Adam promised.

  “You are not even supposed to be able to call me on an unsecured line. I’ll have to reprimand people for forwarding your call,” Paul said, irritated.

  “I can’t exactly walk in and announce myself at the front desk. I don’t have any travel documents. I’m fortunate to be alive. I have information from when I was a guest… elsewhere recently, but I’d have to be well inside your security or given a secure channel to report. I could make a drop somewhere if you wish.”

  Paul shook his head no, and looked sad. “You know better. You know how this works,” he emphasized. “Anything from you has already been declared suspect, because you were out of our control and observation for far too long. Not only once but twice now with the Central people. There’s been sufficient time for you to have been conditioned if not outright turned. You could be a walking time bomb and I’d never allow myself to be in the same room with you now.”

  “They already knew who I work for here. They were very dismissive about it. It shocked me to my core. I’m not sure I had anything they didn’t already know.”

  “All the worse then,” Paul said, but it shocked him too, because he believed it. The politician, Broutin, had been surveilled saying the same thing in private.

  “What am I to do then? Do you expect me to kill myself to tidy up all the lo
ose ends and make your world safer?” Adam asked.

  “We are not heartless. You gave us service. If you turn yourself in here, in country, we will of course interrogate you. But what you say will be considered to possibly be what someone wants us to believe. If you have been conditioned to believe it even the cap won’t reveal the truth, just what you believe.

  “You would be given a safe government job, safely away from anything of value to us. Perhaps something in the department handling motor vehicle licensing and regulation, or something like agriculture, processing loans to farmers. You’ll be secure to move forward to a nice pension,” Paul said.

  Adam considered all that. He was chagrined to find he trusted Paul less than he did Heather and her peers. It would be an insipid life, with unchallenging duties that would amount to make-work for him. He would probably not even be allowed a passport that would allow him outside France. If he failed to carry a phone and otherwise made himself untrackable, as he had been trained to do, that alone would be sufficient reason to suspect him and make them take him back in custody.

  “I have to think on that,” Adam said. He might as well have said no. Paul’s eyebrows shot up in alarm that he didn’t immediately accept. Oh well, count that bridge burnt too. It was immediately obvious there was nothing else to say, and Adam cut the connection without even wasting a good-bye.

  He could go to Marseille, the culture and language would be comfortable and familiar there, but while technically not France they had strong links. If Paul wanted to assassinate him there to deny anyone else his skills it would be trivially easy for him. He wasn’t sure they couldn’t reach him here, but it might not be worth the trouble.

  All options considered, he’d be wiser to do what April had suggested to him, and ask her sovereign for formal asylum. If it was to be believed, he’d still have the option to get on a bus and go to any of the other Moon bases or even the habitats.

  * * *

  April’s phone started a priority beep, and then switched to a beep, beep, pause, beep, beep that indicated more than one priority call. Heather and Jeff’s phones were raising a racket too, and the screen on Heather’s wall flashed red three times and their man Chen appeared. The first call on her phone was Chen so she dismissed that. Jeff and Heather both got their phones silenced so she took a deep breath and let her heart-beat return to normal. She’d hear what Chen said off the screen before she took her second call.

  “I have confirmation the French are assembling another ship after the fashion of James Weir’s vessel at Marseille. One of Weir’s partners has been made at the base, and the same ship that brought him had materials to start constructing a ship building facility. They appear to intend to do modules in pressure and assemble it in vacuum.”

  Jeff and Heather both started asking questions, and April decided she’d heard enough to go to her other call. Papa-san was waiting for her and looking relaxed, unworried at her slight delay.

  “I thought you might like to know one of my assets reported an associate of James Weir has been seen entering the lunar version of Marseille, in company with a ship load of unusual building materials. One suspects that they intend to open a shipyard of some sort.”

  “Our man Chen is making the same report to Jeff and Heather. Did he get it from you or you from him?” April asked, curious.

  “It seems likely we both have the same source. I believe he is as you say – double dipping. That’s fine. I don’t pay him to be an exclusive asset and I must admit I’ve done the same thing often myself,” Papa-san said with amusement.

  “Thank you, we wanted to be aware of this so it didn’t catch us by surprise.”

  “Do you intend to do anything about it?” Papa-san asked directly.

  “Not the way your face says you mean. We aren’t going to compete with them, or sabotage their efforts, but when they do succeed it will complicate our relationship with Earth. We have contractual obligations that actually support their enterprise, and we expect it will raise issues about the L1 limit for armed vessels Heather has imposed.”

  Papa-san noted the absolute certainty with which she expected their success. His experience with April said that wasn’t a careless failure to add a disclaimer.

  “Indeed. They may claim it doesn’t apply to armed vessels built outside the limit,” Papa-san speculated.

  “Well crud. I don’t think we ever thought of that take on it. Thanks. Forewarned is forearmed,” April said. Papa-san just nodded and ended his call.

  Jeff and Heather both gave her an expectant look, inviting a report when she laid her phone back down.

  “I got confirmation of what Chen was saying, but nothing additional.” No reason to tell them who her source was. She had a certain mystique to maintain.

  * * *

  “Should we remove him?” Markus asked.

  “I… would not,” Paul said, awkwardly.

  “Not, you shouldn’t, or it isn’t necessary?” Markus asked, looking at Paul oddly. “I know you. That isn’t your natural way of speaking at all. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Paul said. “My thinking was at least partially influenced by prohibited sources, and prejudiced by unprofessional personal regard.”

  “You somehow became attached to this agent?” Markus asked.

  “No, to you,” Paul answered.

  Markus looked astonished. After a brief hesitation he turned his computer screen so both of them could see it. Paul was as familiar with their internal recording and documentation software as he was, so when Markus turned off the recording of their meeting he had a fair expectation it was real and not a false action. It was rare and risky, because if things went very badly wrong the time gap in their documentation could ruin them both.

  “I think you better tell me what you are thinking, off the record and unvarnished,” Markus demanded.

  “Agent 71 was feeling me out to see if he could report in. I didn’t hold out any false hope to him that he could return to any sort of intelligence work. He knows that’s not doctrine, and I reminded him of that. He had about as much interest in being a desk pilot for some unimportant or obscure agency until retirement as I would. So after that door was pretty much slammed in his face, and he was no longer trying to persuade me of anything, he said they already knew he was French intelligence. In fact he said he wasn’t sure he had anything to share with them they didn’t already know. That just echoes what Broutin told the Prime Minister. That they knew far more than what he’d been entrusted with. It irked him of course, to not be told critical things so he couldn’t reveal them.

  “Not that anyone would trust Broutin with a serious secret. His face is a roadmap straight to his soul, and he thinks the rest of the world is the same sort. He’s the kindly sort of man who believes a street beggar needs just a little bit more to be able to afford his heart medicine.”

  “And yet, credulous or not, he did come back with the same facts we held and hadn’t entrusted to him before his departure,” Paul pointed out. “They informed him of the Brazilians’ relationship to our government. There’s no way they should have had the least sniff of that. Now we have a collaborating set of statements from agent 71. I can’t see any advantage the Spacers would gain by revealing the reach of their intelligence network to us, quite the opposite.”

  “Why would this make you hesitate to remove an unreliable agent?” Markus asked. “He knew it’s a rough game with lethal risks at this level when he signed on. I wouldn’t expect to be treated any differently if I became a liability who knew too much to let walk around where anyone might snatch me and pump me dry.”

  “To whom shall he turn now, since he clearly isn’t going to come in and retire into obscurity and what he knows will be limited freedom?” Paul asked.

  “Well, I assume the Centralists,” Markus said.

  “Central is not like France. As you know, it is within my assigned sphere of interest, and I know a great deal more about it than the public. Y
our agents don’t waste your time with too much background information. That’s their job to know and use to interpret what they pass to you.

  “Here’s why they are very different in this situation. There isn’t any bureaucracy to which he can apply for immigration or fill out forms and supply documents seeking asylum. It is a very small, very well run dictatorship, of a sort that we have very few left on Earth. The sovereign’s word is law, and she holds court weekly like a Medieval European king, dispensing justice based on her personal sense of right and wrong. Word is that her own people, if they have any sense, resolve their own conflicts rather than ask her ruling. It is quite possible to stand before her sure of your own righteousness and end up exiled, stripped of everything you own, or in the extreme dead.”

  Paul stopped to make sure Markus was really tracking what he said.

  “If he’s allowed stay at all, he’d have to do so by appealing directly to Heather Anderson. If she allows him to stay he would come under her umbrella of protection. If, even worse, she decided to take his oath as a sworn man he would come under a much tighter shield of protection. These three, the queen and her two close peers who seem her consorts, are ruthless. They are young, and may very well be idealistic after the pattern of which you accuse Broutin, but that makes them all the more dangerous.”

  “How ruthless? The young and idealistic usually eschew torture and extra legal operations the old and cynical will embrace.”

  “She once caught a spy from Armstrong red handed making dead drops.”

  “What did she do?” Markus demanded at his hesitation. “Shoot him?”

  “Indeed, she dispenses justice with her pistol lying on the table in front of her, so if she has to execute a miscreant she can do it herself on the spot.”

  Markus boggled at that, but Paul went on.

  “She released him. She prohibited his leaving Central, which is surprisingly easy to enforce in their small community, and allowed him to continue in the kitchen job he was working as a cover.”

  “That seems naive. He could have caused all sorts of mischief and sabotage.”