It was all very good so far and she started to think she had been silly to call security about the creep. He wasn't bad enough to actually come over to bother them.
When they had cleaned up the appetizers Mrs. Jiang came out with a stainless tray in both mitted hands and put it in the steam table. As soon as she turned away their neighbors jumped up and hurried to the buffet with long steps, looking at them with mocking smirks. They both heaped up Pla Jien high on bare plates, until the sauce was running off the edge of their plates. They retreated, giggling, to their table.
Looking dismayed, Jeff went up alone and they could see him scrapping what was left into a corner to try to get a spoonful. When he got back to the table he sat it in front of April. "We've both had this before," he said. "You go ahead and try it and we'll get something else off the table."
"Thanks Jeff. That's real sweet of you. It's enough to taste what it's like. But I don't think these two are going to let up and leave, as long as we're here. Maybe we should go after we have a plate, before they do something worse," she changed her mind.
"OK," said Jeff, "sounds good to me." It was after all, what he had suggested at first, but he was too nice to add 'I told you so'.
Mrs. Jiang came out of the kitchen with another pan and put it in the steam table, then walked over to them, wiping her hands on a towel.
"How do you like it?" she asked cheerfully. Then looking at the meager spoonful in front of April, her expression was quizzical.
"Uh, sorry Mrs. Jiang, I took too long to get up there and it was mostly gone. It's so good, I should have known better and moved quickly," Jeff said, trying hard to put the best face on things he could.
Mrs. Jiang looked over at the two ironworkers, with heaped plates and they made the mistake of staring back boldly, unrepentant. She ripped off a stream of shrill Chinese as she stomped over to their table, with pointed finger accusing and fortunately for them not a real weapon. April did not know the language, but she was pretty sure it was just as well. Their faces said the two men understood very well.
"You get out of here now," she said, switching to English and pointed out the door. "You stuff your pig faces enough already, I'm not cooking anymore for you tonight. You think it's funny to be rude," she accused. "Your mother didn't love you enough to teach you manners."
April had to admire the shameful cut of her invective, without using swear words.
The bearded one had his nerve and got to his feet, looming over Mrs. Jiang, with his face as red as hers.
"You don't tell me to get out!" he shouted leaning over in her face. "You forget you're just the damn help here woman!" jabbing a finger at her for emphasis. Mrs. Jiang didn't seem intimidated at all and didn't back up when he leaned right in her face.
Jeff immediately jumped up, trying to get between them to protect his friend.
If the bearded one was still hesitated to lay hands on the cook, he had no fear to take Jeff's approach as a challenge and was happy to go beyond words with him. He lunged to meet Jeff with his hand a claw to grab hold of his shirt front. April did not understand exactly what happened, but Jeff stepped back and sideways, smooth as a dance step so the man would pass rather than collide.
He reached to meet the man's grabbing hand, which was on the other side of Jeff now, hidden from April's view, but the crack of breaking bone was audible even over the music. The 'O' which formed above the funny little beard and his pop-eyed look, left no doubt to who the broken part belonged.
Jeff took two more quick steps back, still leading him away from Mrs. Jiang, but the fellow was too enraged to quit now, even though he had to be hurting. He pivoted to follow and with dread April saw Jeff shift his balance, done retreating, calmly measuring the distance. But before the man could take a step, his head was englobed in a crackling blue corona. His limbs jerked unnaturally wide and his back arched in a spasm that threw him face down on the empty table between them. His limbs continued making little random twitches and the back of his ample hair was smoldering with a horrible smell. His legs were still off the edge, so they dragged him back and he slide off the table on to the floor.
His companion still seated, was very, very still, looking down at the laser aiming dot scintillating on his chest.
Jon Davis was standing in the doorway. Filling it might be more accurate, as he came close to having to turn sideways, to fit through the merely normal size opening. The Taser in his hand was not the old wired sort, but projected two ionized paths through the air itself. The charge which looped through the beams could be set large enough to kill, or wreck machinery, so the weapon was deadly solid black, instead of carrying the usual yellow strips marking most Tasers as non-lethal.
April noticed the noise level in the room had dropped off abruptly.
Jon seemed to decide the seated companion was no threat and dismissed him totally from his attention, dropping the muzzle pointed at the deck. He walked to them unhurried and inspected Jeff. Jeff completely surprised April by bowing stiffly from the waist to Jon and holding the uncomfortable pose eyes down for a long time.
Jon returned his bow with a short bob of his head, which defined their relationship without a word. Jeff was obviously very subordinate to Jon. April hadn't even known they knew each other. "Was this necessary Jeff?" Jon asked with a wave of his hand at the prone figure, which encompassed Jeff's total involvement.
"Perhaps not Teacher" Jeff replied, looking at Jon's feet. "Yet perhaps it was not enough, as it did not stop him. I may have been over zealous, out of concern for my friend."
Jon snorted in amusement. "You mean you wanted to make sure Mrs. Jiang did not carry the blood guilt on her conscience, seeking to protect you?
"No Sir," he said, daring to look up since Jon was amused. "I am sure Mrs. Jiang is much more disciplined than I am," he admitted.
"We'll discuss this another time," Jon decided. "We all may learn something from it with a little thought."
Jon looked around at April. "Thank you for asking my dispatcher to not disturb me, but that is contrary to my orders concerning your family. I'm glad I hurried here. It's my job to deal with scum like this, not your friends. This one," he said, indicating the now still form on the floor, "will go to the infirmary and directly on the next shuttle for dirt."
As if on cue, the medical cart with amber lights flashing came to a halt outside in the corridor and two white jacketed EMS workers trotted in with kits. The lead technician looked a question at Jon, when he kneeled beside the obvious casualty.
"Taser in the back of the head" said Jon," Bringing the weapon in his hand up in front of the technician, like the man had never seen one before. He seemed to realize he was done with it now and holstered it.
"Jeez, Jon," he's going to have the Mother-Of-All-Headaches when he comes to. "What is his status?" He asked, spraying something on the still smoking hair.
"He's a Restrain-for-Expulsion andy. Cuff him while he's out. He's a beam dog so cuff his ankles too. He can probably shuffle cards with his toes, if he's like most of them. If anybody has a problem with it don't bother me - just send them down with him."
"Oh," he remembered. "I think he has a broken thumb also." He walked out briefly with the technicians while they loaded the man.
The companion to the Tasered fellow looked happy to slink out the door and turn the opposite direction from the cart, once Jon was not between him and the exit.
Jon came back to them after seeing the techies away, which cut off the awkward conversation. They were still shocked and they weren't entirely sure if they might not be in some trouble too. Especially since Jon was still scowling.
Jon abruptly changing manner as she'd seen him do before. "Why don't you young folks find somewhere more pleasant to finish up the evening?" he suggested. "I believe Mrs. Jiang has something for you." She had come out of the kitchen with a family size thermopack, like was used to take a meal to your own apartment. Jeff went over to accept it, speaking quietly with her.
Jon just turned and star
ted walking for the door, without further comment, but April hurried after him before he could get away and patted at his back. When he turned around she pulled his shoulder down, directing him to lean forward until she could hug him around the neck. It was the only place she had any chance of encircling him. She gave him a hard squeeze cheek to cheek and said "Thank you," quietly in his ear.
"You're welcome," he said, pleased, straightening up and giving her an awkward little pat on the shoulder with one huge hand like she was fragile. "Do try to stay out of trouble for a few hours," he requested with a wink. "I'm going off shift soon and would like to sleep a few hours tonight,"
She Earth nodded silent agreement, afraid she would start laughing or crying uncontrollably if she tried talking, with all the emotional turmoil she felt. She turned and hurried after Heather and Jeff, who had stood off far enough to give her some privacy. They really were very smart people.
Chapter 8
"Let's go to my apartment," Jeff said. "It's close, my dad is away and I can get some dishes out for this," he said, hefting the thermo-pack.
"Fine, but I'm too upset to eat anything," Heather said.
"Me too, I want to sit down, but I'm way too wound up to eat now too," said April. "We still have to talk," she reminded them, determined not to put it off.
They walked along, following Jeff's lead to his corridor. It was nice enough, but only about half G less than the cafeteria had been. On the other hand, you probably had three times the cubic here, for the same price as at full G.
April was again made aware she was spoiled. The apartment they stepped into was barely bigger than her room at home. April had never heard anyone mention Jeff's mom. She had no idea what the story was, but she decided to wait for now and see if they brought it up themselves.
Jeff folded down a kitchen table hinged off the wall and locked it in place with a single leg bracing the outside edge. The chairs were the folding kind, Hardoy chairs, cloth slings on a tubular frame, which could hang on the wall, but were surprisingly comfortable in the low G. He quietly put out plain white Corelle bowls, which April recognized as antiques and rarer than the patterned ones. He laid out chopsticks across the edge of the bowls parallel to the long side of the table and placed plain napkins and handless cups, so there was a graceful symmetry to the table.
The way he automatically added the gracious touch surprised April. The attention to form was almost Japanese. She hadn't expected this side of him. The rich starchy smell of the rice was strong in the small room. It covered up a bit of a hot metal smell, which had bothered her briefly when they first came in. The pungent spicy smell of the Pla Jien when he opened it was even stronger. He served only himself, but poured green tea with a practiced hand in the low G, for all of them.
Heather was well into relating April's action in the ladies room, for Jeff. He picked up a small chunk of the fish in his chopsticks and presented it to April's lips. "Try," he commanded and she leaned forward and took the morsel, rather than interrupt Heather's story.
"That is good," she admitted when Heather ran down. "What kind of fish is that?"
"Mrs. Jiang can make it with Ono, or Mahi-Mahi, or even Catfish if it's all she has, but I believe this is Grouper. Would you care to tell us how you came to talk to bathroom walls and why the Head of Security personally descends on your enemies, like the Angel of Death?"
"Two days ago none of this would have ever happened," April started, she related most of the experience with Art and Jon.
Jeff silently served her and Heather some of the food. They were settled enough now neither objected.
Heather and Jeff silently ate, letting her tell her whole story, not even interrupting when she stopped to take a few bites. She decided she liked having these sort of friends, who didn't begrudge showing patience and respect for her.
She finished with her dad's conclusion, that the Rock was the underlying financial reason for any government interest. She only omitted the number Jon had given to her and the details of whose gun was associated with her smelling Hoppe's.
"So I knew the bathrooms were bugged," she continued, "because Jon told me." We shouldn't speak of any plans in public. Not even talk about anything important on com, because if you can tap it like you built in my scanner, so can the government. We'll need to come to our own homes like now." She looked around thinking, "I suppose we are private here," she said, not totally confident.
"Very likely we are, yes." Jeff confirmed. "Heather and I know electronics pretty well and we check these rooms and her place for any bugs. We'll give you a program for your pad, which will allow you to mail us and nobody can crack it. Anybody who really knows computer security knows there is only one kind of safe program. It mixes your message with a random file – a onetime pad. You have to physically deliver the key files, but that's no problem for us."
"Here, I'll install it on your pad for you," he offered, setting his on the table to talk to hers. "When you run out of random files, we have to meet face to face to give you a refill. We just use it for text, because full voice and video runs through it too fast. We don't have any idea if the Feds data mine the traffic inside the station. I'm sure they do the traffic to and from Earth. But if they sent all local traffic Dirtside it would be too much bandwidth to hide. Of course if you use unbreakable encryption in a high enough volume, that alone will call attention to you pretty fast. Even just locally."
" I'd like to tell you what has happen to us the last couple days but I have to consult with Heather on the idea," he looked over at Heather.
"Do you want me to go away so you can speak freely?" April asked.
"No." Heather said. "This is the kind of thing we have to talk about out in the open. If we hurt each other's feeling some now, it is better than forging an alliance and finding out later we are sorry. I imagine it would be pretty much like some people who don't really talk about anything serious before getting married and then find out in six months or so they really want different things and should have never gotten married. I used that example, because I have a cousin who made exactly that mistake."
"I've been as open as I know how with you guys," April told them. "I see trouble coming with the Rock. I can see long term employees on M3 being fired and forced to go groundside, if we are viewed as rebellious. I don't know about you guys, but it would be like going to prison for me. If we're sent Dirtside, what are our chances of ever buying our way back on a habitat, with that on our records?"
"My folks could probably go back somewhere they have lived down there and be pretty happy. But the place looks like one big slum to me. And I resent anybody sending snoops into our home, carrying guns around like they own the place. I need some allies who don't look at me like I need protected and won't go all strange on me if I want to do something - drastic."
"Why didn't you tell us who has the gun you learned the smell from and the number to reach Jon?" Heather asked.
"Heather. I'm looking for allies, not a priest for confession. If I can use your example of marriage, there are supposedly things a married person doesn't go home and blab to their mate about their work. If you work with government secrets, or security, there are things you're supposed to keep things to yourself."
"I expect you two to keep things from me, if you have no right to pass them on. For example, you said you have other customers for electronics. I understood I have no need to know and blabbing the information might ruin your relationship with them. I don't feel I can betray either one of those trusts you named, without a compelling reason."
Heather looked at Jeff. "Makes sense to me," she admitted.
"So, if you find we are doing something of which the government, or Mitsubishi, wouldn't approve, you wouldn't feel compelled to run to Jon or your dad?" Heather asked.
"I don't work for Jon or Mitsubishi. In fact, Jon works for me," she said, firmly.
This got her a very skeptical look from both of them.
"No, really, it's his job as Security Chief, keeping
us safe like he did today. Sure, I went to him with this Art thing. But who else could I go to? Did you notice though? - I didn't tell him who owns the gun, anymore than I did you. Not caring if I propose something the government or Mitsubishi wouldn't want, is exactly what I want you guys to do for me too." She considered the problem a moment.
"Maybe we should each, put all these small secrets we owe other people in a file and if something happens to one of us, it will reveal itself to the other two, if we don't keep telling it we are OK every day. We have to be realistic. There are people involved here who would hurt us if they needed to," April said.
"Checking in every twelve hours sounds better to me," Jeff offered. "I can set it up on an anonymous public storage site. If something bad is happening, even twelve hours might be a long wait." April and Heather looked at each other and agreed.
"If you ever do access our complete files," Jeff warned her. "Well, there are some associations we have with people on the Moon that may seem odd. We can't swear they would continue to deal with you. Maybe after they know we are associated for awhile, they'll come to trust you."
"They trade us some stuff, but we have to agree to make sure none of it gets to the Earthies. Not a contract, just our word. Some of it I really don't understand yet and I sort of suspect they don't trust us with anything they'd really worry about getting down below. That's all I want to say about that right now," he said, seeing the questions in April's eyes.
"But you said trade, so you must have some stuff hot enough they want it."
Jeff just shrugged, to acknowledge that was true, like it embarrassed him.
"One more question," Heather said. "How are you about money?"
It threw April for a loop. She wasn't thinking about money. What did Heather even mean by such a question?
"I don't know if I somehow gave you the idea I'm a tightwad. I thought I always paid well for our business deals. I'm just not much motivated by money. My family is pretty well off, but of course we won't be if the Rock deal falls apart. Now, my brother is greedy over money. I have to watch him, or he will walk all over me, even though I'm family."
April Page 9
