by Terry Mixon
“Forget her. Gather everything important. Anything that could identify us. You have five minutes.”
He recovered everything from his room and made a pass through to follow up on everyone else. Once they finished scouring the house, he used the last of the phosphorous grenades to set it on fire. He made sure to leave one on his bed. They’d get no DNA evidence from him.
As they drove away from the second fire of the day, he wondered if they’d label him a serial arsonist. Ah well. And he’d miss the little bit. She’d been so amusing. Maybe he’d come back some day and find her.
On the down low, of course. She’d no doubt make an accusation of rape against him. It had happened before. He’d have plenty of witnesses to say he’d left Italy the day he’d arrived in Paris.
Nothing would stick to him. It never did.
Chapter Fifteen
Jess slept fitfully and woke foggy. Only after breakfast and an extra dose of coffee was she really awake. It was hard to get any sleep when things were changing so rapidly. Which sucked, since she was usually a morning person.
She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but their speed had grown incredibly high and the rate of that acceleration just kept edging up. They’d already passed the orbit of Saturn and would handily beat her guess that they’d reach the strange object that they were rushing toward in a week.
At this rate, they’d get there in another day. Faster if they didn’t start slowing down soon. If they didn’t stop, they’d exit the solar system a day or so later and be into interstellar space.
Doctors Powell and Young were waiting for her as soon as she reached the core. The two women looked almost giddy.
“Tell me the truth,” Jess demanded. “You found chocolate.”
Rachael Powell laughed. “Not quite that good, but close. We found a library. Those crates in the dorm compartment had a ton of old books and scrolls. A historical treasure trove.”
“And that’s not all we found,” Paulette Young said. “There’s another compartment with even more, and it had a console with electronic versions. It took most of the night, but we figured out how to open them. Best of all, we know how to link them to the paper versions.”
Rachael nodded. “It was something like the Dewy Decimal system. Once we found the corresponding book in electronic form, we discovered that it wasn’t just scanned, it was translated into the alien language.”
Jess blinked. “So, you can read it?”
“We’re working on something right now. We have optical scanners and we’ll try to superimpose what we think a word means over it. Programs like that existed as far back as twenty years ago. You could get something in a different language on your phone screen in real time and get a very rough translation. It actually changed the words you were seeing.
“We’ll try to do the same thing. Unknown words will be in a different color or something. As we make progress, we can refine the translations.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Jess said. “What kind of time-frame are you thinking?”
“Hours for the first iteration,” Rachel said. “It probably won’t work that well. We’re modifying a program on one of the crew’s phones. Violating all kinds of copyright, I’m sure. So, we’re starting from a platform that we know works.”
“The bad part is that we’re working in the dark,” Paulette said. “We won’t really know if some subtle interpretation changes the meaning. We can translate what we know back to Old Italian, but we’re not really fluent there, either. It’s going to be rough.”
Jess nodded. “And the technical terms probably won’t translate at all. Or not well. How will you handle that?”
“If you think a word means something, we’ll add it to the database. We can always fix it as we go if we’re wrong.”
“That sounds great!” Jess said. “Ladies, you might just have saved our lives. Have you slept?”
She knew from the way they looked at one another that they hadn’t. “Go get a few hours of shut eye. Then hit this fresh. At this point, speed is not the critical factor. Accuracy is. And you’ll be more prone to error if you’re tired. Scoot.”
Once they were gone, Jess looked around for Michael Crocket. She didn’t find him, but she did find his wife. Sierra was cataloging various small objects on a tablet.
She looked up and smiled at Jess. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I wanted to ask your husband a question, but you might be the better choice. We’ve found some old books and scrolls. They need to be safely categorized and preserved. Doctors Powell and Young found them and didn’t have concerns about their condition, but I figure if I don’t tell your husband he’ll…”
“Have a cow? Probably.” Sierra smiled. “I’d look for him in Emily’s room. They had some things to discuss, but should be done by now.”
Unlike Jess and about half of the others, The Crockets and Emily Adams had decided to move into the original crew quarters. It felt a little creepy to Jess, but that wasn’t her problem.
“That’s good. I need to talk with her, too. The doctors have hit on a way to use a phone program to do translating for us, but they don’t really have the computer background that Emily does. She should probably take lead on that.”
Sierra nodded. “She’s a whiz at computers and programming. And a damned fine artist, too. Not that that’s relevant for this, but still.”
“That might help in ways we can’t see yet. Thanks.”
Jess made her way to the adjoining cabins and tried to remember which was which. She shrugged and knocked on one. Michael Crocket’s muffled voice came through the door. Jess thought he said come in, so she opened the door.
Just in time to see a partially clad Emily run into the bathroom. She’d obviously picked the wrong room. “I’m sorry. I thought Doctor Crocket was here and told me to come in.”
“Actually, I said to hang on a minute,” Michael Crocket said as he came out of the bathroom, putting his shirt on.
Jess stood there with her mouth halfway open, not sure exactly what to say.
* * * * *
Clayton and Penny Cash arrived in New Zealand at 9 AM local. They landed at the International terminal at the Queenstown Airport. The scenic view on approach was one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen.
Penny got them out of the airport and into a car quickly and smoothly. In just minutes, they were driving. His driver watched the roads while the two of them sat in the back and watched the beautiful countryside and Lake Wakatipu slide past. Amazing.
“So,” he said after a few minutes, “why don’t you give me a rundown of where we’re going. Not the entire history of New Zealand, mind you. Just the particulars key to the task at hand.”
“Sure. We’re on the South Island. New Zealand’s main export is agricultural goods. Dairy is big, and so is meat. Wool used to be big, but it’s fallen out of favor.
“The area on the map you marked is currently a very large sheep station with a lot of rough, hilly country. The feelers I put out say the owner is willing to deal, if he likes you.”
Clayton smiled. “You mean if he likes my money.”
She shook her head. “No. I mean if he likes you. He doesn’t have to sell and the land has been in his family for a long time. If he thinks you’re an ass, he’ll tell you to start walking. You need to win him over. Remember, you don’t just need a station here. You need this one.”
“Are we even sure the place we’re looking for is on his land?”
“His spread is pretty big, so yeah. It’s on it somewhere.”
“How big is big?”
“Roughly 25,700 hectares. That’s about 63,500 acres. He has about 20,000 sheep and 1,000 head of cattle.”
That was a large spread. He’d be paying a pretty penny for this property. If he didn’t want to shell out a lot of money, he needed to put his best foot forward. There was a time for being a cantankerous old man and a time for being as smooth as honey.
They drove down the lakeshore for hal
f an hour and then took a boat across. A man in a Range Rover picked them up at the dock.
They drove for a short bit before the house became visible. It was a big one, low slung and spread out. It looked like a working part of the station, based on the number of people doing things. Several large barns seemed integral to their tasks.
The men had a resemblance to hands he’d have expected to see in the old west. That shouldn’t have surprised him, he supposed. People dressed in serviceable, long lasting clothes for work.
Penny put her hand on his arm. “Let me do the initial talking. Mister Durey is a bit of a curmudgeon and I want to gauge his mood. I’ll introduce you and then you can broach the deal when he seems in the mood to talk about it. Don’t rush. This conversation needs to take as long as it takes.”
“I’ll be good. I promise. If you see me wandering off script or have a suggestion, jump right in.”
He climbed out of the vehicle and decided to leave his jacket in the car. It was warm enough without it, though there was a little chill in the air. It reminded him that the seasons were reversed down here. He’d have to get used to snow in July. And warm, sunny Christmases. That was going to be odd.
The main door to the house opened and a tall, rugged man came out. He looked as though the wind had worn all the soft places off him. A large hook of a nose dominated his face, bent a little to one side. No doubt telling the story of one hell of a brawl when he was younger.
Penny took the lead and introduced herself, shaking the man’s hand. “Ashton Durey, this is Clayton Rogers.”
Clayton stuck his hand out. The two men shook, getting a mild test of strength as they measured one another.
“Mister Rogers,” the man said. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“The longer I live, the fewer people that remember that damned show,” he said with a real smile. “My son absolutely loathes it.”
The other man grinned. “It was big when I was a kid. I have the whole series on disk. The grandkids love it. The two of you can come on in.”
The inside of the house was golden hardwood and equipment or saddles hung on the walls. A worn and lived in working home. Clayton approved.
“My wife is in town with the rest of the lady folk and grandkids. I figured we’d best talk without everyone chipping in their opinion. You want a beer?”
“Sure. Whatever is handy.”
He gave Clayton a measuring stare. “I’ll wager you like that horse piss they sell in the US. Crap, every ounce of it. I’d suggest pouring it out, but then you’d have to fill out all those damned environmental impact statements. I’ll get you something that’ll put hair on your chest. Anything for you, Miss Cash?”
“Something without chest hair, please.”
He laughed. “I can handle that.”
A few moments later, he had some cold bottles out of the fridge. Armageddon Pale Ale made by the Epic Brewing Company. He’d never heard of the brand before. It tasted very much of hops. He wasn’t much for beer personally, but something like this might change his mind.
“This is good. I’ll assume it’s made in New Zealand.”
The man nodded. “Yup. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. All you Americans ever know about this area of the planet drink-wise is Fosters. You can do better.”
“I’m starting to get the idea you New Zealanders don’t much care for your neighbors.”
“You could say that, just don’t call it family issues. You might get into a fight for that.”
Clayton held up his hands. “I’m not from around here and have no intention of getting involved in my neighbor’s squabbles. The people on Nauru seem to agree with your assessment, though.”
“Smart people, sounds like. I’ve heard a bit about you. That’s your spaceship that just landed on Mars?”
He nodded. “My son, Harry. He’s a good boy, but not my biggest fan.”
The other man leaned back against the counter and took a drink. “Why is that, if I might ask?”
“I made a lot of money running a corporation. You don’t get to the top of something like that without stepping on toes. And heads. I hurt people and he doesn’t much care for me because of that.”
“You changed much since then? Not sure you sound like the kind a fella I want to sell the family station to.”
He saw Penny stiffen a little, probably afraid of how he’d respond.
Clayton gave the other man a considering look. “Not so much, but I’ll draw a distinction. I always had the people working for me in mind. I’m not the kind of person to lay off thousands just to boost the stock price. The heads I broke were sharks like me. They had it coming and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Now Penny had the “deer in the headlights” look. This conversation was veering far off the course she’d plotted, but Clayton was going on instinct. This man was a lot sharper than the image he was projecting. He’d have a good bullshit detector.
Durey took another drink and slowly nodded. “I suppose a man who’s going to build a secret spaceship in orbit and run off to Mars might walk over a few people on his way to the top of the heap. Why Mars? Why space?”
“Because mankind is choking the Earth. Or maybe it’s better to say we’re getting too crowded and there are too many assholes in the world making things dangerous for everyone. Mars isn’t the goal of my space project. I’m going to start mining in space and building large habitats all around the solar system. It’s time to get humanity spread out a bit. One idiot having a bad day could bring society down.
“Or it might come down under its own weight. I don’t know. I’d rather see humanity survive whatever nature has in store for it, and that means we need to spread out. If something like a massive coronal ejection takes out high technology down here, I don’t want to miss the chance we have.”
The other man considered that and nodded. “I can see that, though it confuses me a little. Why are you looking to buy a Kiwi sheep station?”
“I sold off most of my companies and have a lot of cash at the moment. I have some ideas that this property could play into.”
“To do with space? Hard to see the connection.”
Clayton nodded. “It isn’t easy to connect the dots, but they’re there in my mind. This looks like a solid business with a lot of family history. I know wool isn’t doing so well right now, but why sell? If you weren’t already thinking that way, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
The other man grunted. “Coincidentally enough, it’s the future that has me in the crack. My kids all ran off to the big city and don’t want anything to do with sheep. An occasionally thankless job, I’ll grant you.
“And with the downturn, I’m having trouble justifying even trying to get the grandkids interested. They’re city kids born and bred. One year soon, I’ll have no choice. I’m not getting any younger.”
Clayton could relate to that. “If we can come to an agreement, I give you my word your people will be treated right. And, perhaps, there’s something else I could do that might make a difference.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d imagine your kids have their own lives mapped out, but what if I offered your grandkids the very best education, but one they’d have to work for. One that led to important work in the space program that’s going to spring up down here.”
Durey seemed to consider that. “What kind of space work is going to go on down here?”
“I’m breaking ground on a major spaceport on Nauru. The space mining industry will be bringing a lot of valuable minerals to this part of the world. That’s going to make industry spring up where it never existed before.
“Imagine them as engineers mining an asteroid. Or piloting a spaceship up on a lance of fire. Exploring the limits of the solar system. Surfing the rings of Saturn. Maybe even leaving the system one day. Who the hell knows?”
The room settled into a long quiet spell as Durey considered what he’d said. Clayton knew he’d made an offer that
the other man liked, but only time would tell if it swung things in his favor.
“What do you mean when you say an education they’d have to work for?”
He smiled. “Kids don’t respond well to having everything handed to them. My son Nathan is the poster boy for pampering gone wrong. They have to work for their dreams. Work hard. That makes an achievement mean something.
“So, I’d pay for their schooling, but only so long as their grades made the cut. B’s and above. C’s are for people who don’t want something badly enough. Then, when they have their degree, a job on the track they’re looking for.
“If they want to be an engineer, they’d work with the top men and women in the field. People with high expectations. Ones they’d have to work their butts off to meet. That’s how you become the best at what you do.”
Durey looked at Clayton, his eyes unreadable. Then he took a drink and set the bottle down. “I think we might be able to come to an agreement after all. Let’s go look over the property and see if we can come up with a number we can both live with.
“It won’t be cheap. I love this land. But I love my grandkids more.”
Chapter Sixteen
Harry was exhausted. Idiot him, he’d thought they’d land on Mars and go exploring.
Nope. It was dark in the caldera now and they’d been humping ass to get the camp set up. They’d needed to cart the habitats to a handy lava flow near the crashed ship. That 500 meters of rough ground meant they’d spent an hour just finding and marking the best path.
Then they’d carried everything over on their backs. The sun was almost to the wall when they inflated the habitat and started moving their gear inside, along with the food and other consumables.
Now that they’d finished, the pilot had cooked dinner. Cooking being boiling water and pouring it into a dehydrated food packet to steam as it reconstituted. Rice and beans. Not bad.
They’d wanted to spend every second moving gear, but he’d put his foot down. So, they’d scouted a path to the wreck, too. And to the area beyond it.
