April

by Mackey Chandler

  "What is this primary business you speak of that holds intellectual property?"

  "Singh Technologies," Heather answered for her. "It's privately held so there isn't much information to be found on it. We do that a lot up here. April's family for example holds Strategic Materials and Jeff's family owns Kali Holding. Those are fronts for ownership in the Rock."

  "Ah, then your interest in how events unfold around the Rock, run deeper than how it affects the courier trade, or Faye's ability to deliver her panels." That seemed to satisfy him, that he had the broader picture.

  "It will deeply effect all of us on 3," Faye assured him. "More than some seem able to imagine at this time."

  "Thank you for your counsel, "April said and handed the cuff back to him.

  He reached, but instead of plucking it from her hand, he took her hand in his and she felt the second cuff link she had not seen him remove, pressed beside the other between their hands.

  "Wear them and remember me by them," he offered. And lifted her hand and gave a very European light kiss to her fingers. She had never seen anyone do that, except in old movies, but he made it seem very natural and oddly not the least romantic. It was more respectful, as there was no playfulness in his expression, which made it all the stranger from him, "and much success with your revolution."

  It chilled her to realize from his flash of amusement after the last phrase, he was pleased with his double meaning and was not referring to any fashion revolution. She had certainly never used the word. Was their course really so transparent to people? Or did rebellion just look inevitable from his view?

  April thanked him and looked back up at Sylvia and Heather, worried she had said too much. But Heather had an almost smiling, pleased look, April hoped meant she approved. Sylvia had a thoughtful look, which said she didn't mind the exchange at all. Neither had expressed any disapproval. She was happy she avoided speaking bluntly of rebellion, but obviously it wasn't far from anybody's mind.

  * * *

  Monday morning Oct. 11, 2083, was the start of a new work week. Jon cut the connection to the last of the six courier services he had called this morning. He missed the old fashioned sort of telephone handset you could smash back in the cradle and work out some of your anger. All he'd managed to do today, was to alert enough people in the orbit to orbit transport business, to the fact he wanted a small job done, that the rest of the small and closely knit industry would know he'd failed to do by lunch.

  After he'd been turned down six times for a quick turnaround to ISSII, the other ship owners would probably be afraid to touch the job. It quickly had a taint attached to it, after a certain number rejected it. He could see now he had made a few small mistakes, trying to hire a private ride. He wanted to transport an officer to the other station and extract and return Dr. Singh with the officer as an escort. Was that so much to ask?

  Every owner he'd talked to, had immediately asked why they didn't just take a normally scheduled flight? He should have had an elaborate cover story ready, but he'd foolishly told them the truth, that he was afraid politics and legal action might keep him from boarding commercial transport. Every single one of them had instantly assumed that the problem involved the Rock and would either identify them with a faction they didn't want to be labeled with, or put their craft at risk.

  It didn't help that there also appeared to be more work available for the limited number of scooters in private hands than they could do. So getting involved would not only be unwise in their eyes, they'd also be doing him a favor in the first place, interrupting their bookings, or running a crew overtime to do so.

  If he'd any idea how busy and how lucrative the trade was, he'd have invested some of his retirement money in it. April's brother Bob had not impressed him as deeply as his sister even being a few years older. When he found out from the previous owner that Bob had exercised an option to buy a scooter, he was surprised. If he was sharp enough to get in on this hot market, maybe he wasn't as dumb as the mushroom fiasco implied. In any case maybe they would take the job, if they were not yet in the loop of owners who warned each other to turn him down.

  If even that failed to get transport, maybe he could get some local help on ISSII to make sure Singh was not harassed or denied boarding. The Security people over there would undoubtedly rather not have any unpleasant public incidents, if they could be avoided. If they were not under Earthie orders to create the ugly incident themselves, he reminded himself. He still wasn't sure he'd want to do business with his boss' kids.

  Jon looked across his desk at the thin screen covering most of his office wall. It showed an organization chart obtained by a web search. He believed perhaps half of it was true. The chart was the official public one, for the counterpart to his own organization on ISSII. What really complicated it was the head of Security in the International Station, rotated among the various nations contributing to the upkeep and personnel, of the second and biggest joint station. So while positions might be long term, the people assigned to them changed frequently.

  He shook his head. He thought he had a hard job, but he could not imagine trying to do it with a crew of soldiers from six different countries, who might not understand his language well. There would always be some doubt if they'd take your orders, if they seemed to conflict with their country's interests.

  He followed what he could of the man's career, but the record was very strange. The family name was German sounding. Hagen. Jan Hagen. But he knew the Swiss shared language and customs with several neighbors. He just wished he knew if it was important. He didn't know if one heritage carried greater status than another. The fellow had served in the Swiss army as a very young man. Then, strangely he had gone back in the military for a second time, although his rank from one enlistment to the other made no sense at all. Nothing at all except his military service in a general way, seemed to qualify him for his post. The guy had to be a spook.

  He looked at the man's picture. He seemed unremarkable in a bland European way. It was probably an asset, rather than striking good looks. Most important his appearance did not send any warning message to Jon the man was a warped personality. Psychologists could deny the ability, but Jon had learned in police work to trust his initial impressions. If someone was bad to the core, he usually got an alarm bell at first glance, even from a photo and he'd regretted those times he'd suppressed and ignored his gut feeling. This man, he sensed, he could work with confidently.

  "Eddie, I need to talk to you," he yelled through his door. His was the only office and the shared space for the rest of his department was small enough, he could be heard by everyone. At least cleaning out the armory had opened up the storage locker, so they could move the coffee maker and fridge in there and have it out of sight. It probably was the most secure coffee maker off earth, since they kept the vault door closed up as usual off shift, just to mislead anyone who might think there were still weapons in there. With the coffee set up gone, you could walk between the desks without turning sideways. At least the normal sized people could.

  Eddie stuck his head in the door. "You bellowed?" he inquired. Eddie was the closest thing the department had to a technology geek. If a problem called for a special piece of equipment he seemed to have the connections to produce it. It might have surprised Jon, that his man Eddie and Heather knew each other on a professional basis.

  "I struck out this morning trying to get private transport, to bring Dr. Singh back from IISII. I want to have a cozy little talk with the head of Security at ISSII, to see if he could give us a hand and not have the USNA analyzing what I've said, before I suck in my next breath. If you were going to arrange it what would you do?"

  Eddie came in and shut the door and pulled a slim wand out of his pocket. He consulted it at length and stuck it back in his pocket.

  "Come on, Eddie. You checked my room this morning when we spoke and neither of us have left the office since then."

  "Yes but several people have been in and out of your office sinc
e then."

  "But all of them work here. None of them have been visitors."

  Eddie looked at him like he was daft.

  "OK, I know you're right, but sometimes you seem a little over the line with the secrecy. I mean, what could possibly get us such close attention?"

  "I'm not sure Jon. But if it's not especially sensitive, then you can just call ISSII up on the regular phone circuits and nobody should bother to listen in. A normal encryption program should be plenty good enough."

  Jon suspected, if the USNA sent a space plane and operatives to M3, they were mighty interested. They might pay Mr. Singh a visit at the other station also.

  "Eddie, Jeff Singh's dad is at the conference at ISSII until Friday and then from what he says, he intended to stay and consult with lawyers for the Rock investors. I have no idea if he is in any danger of having his hotel room invaded there, like his apartment here. They didn't leave anything to harm him, but they might change their mind, or they might hurt him by misadventure. He could even just walk in on them by accident, because black operations do get screwed up. Especially when you don't have enough people and you have young hot shots like this SEAL working on it."

  "So you want their security people to be made aware he might be bothered and make sure he gets back on the shuttle OK?"

  "Basically, yes, but I wanted a presence there to make it happen, even without their help and it's not going to happen now. I had six carriers refuse a charter and I don't have any way to declare an emergency and commandeer a vessel. But beyond Singh's return, I'd also like to know what this Swiss guy's assessment of the whole problem with the Rock is and if he knows anything about what is going on with spying on Ajay Singh. I'm hoping we might get some cooperation from him, if he sees it in his interest from the view of the Europeans and as a fellow spacer who understands the exposure we have living up here."

  "Boss man, I hate to remind you, but you are part of the USNA authority, as far as this guy is concerned. Your superiors think so too. In fact if you are having any problems with the limits of your authority you should probably be real careful what you say around here, much less to a European Union security man."

  "The Feds might view your trying to share information with him as a bit outside your legitimate sphere of influence. I'd say they'd inform you your jurisdiction ends right at the airlock, unless you are clipped on with a line. And we don't have one long enough to reach ISSII. They might get a bit testy about you independently asking a foreigner anything, instead of them."

  "You know what they'd tell me if I ask about the guy who jumped to the plane?"

  Eddie smiled. "You hallucinating again? If you keep seeing things you'll probably need some psychiatric treatment. The government has been real generous lately, helping you folks who see stuff which doesn't officially exist. You'll have a nice cell behind the heaviest security. Seriously Jon, you can avoid talking openly about it, but what they are trying to do with the Rock is wrong. I can't in good conscience enforce confiscation of everything some of these people own. I'd resign first."

  "When it comes down to where you have to declare your loyalty are you going to have the nerve to risk everything? Because it isn't right to use your people to edge closer and closer to treason and then chicken out down the road yourself. You had better know what you are going to do and you better know if there are any of the crew who are not going to go along with you, or you might just have armed both sides of an ugly little civil war, by dispersing our weapons."

  "Eddie, if they come in here like the jumper did, armed and undeclared, putting my people, I mean all of M3 not just our crew, at risk, I have to oppose them. Sneaking in the back door with a gun, is not how I was trained to conduct law enforcement. If they make a public announcement they are using eminent domain on the Rock and conduct an open occupation of it, I would advise the investors to let it go."

  "Do you know, we're calling every shuttle coming in and talking to someone we know on the passenger list, because we are worried we might have a real military invasion? I am actually worried they would make a commando style raid, without trying to talk first and kill a bunch of our civilians," Jon told him.

  "Thank God. I didn't know if you realized how crazy they are." He looked relieved and slumped like he could finally show his fatigue. "We're totally in agreement then Jon. They'll come in shooting whether they need to or not, because it's just how they do business now. Now that I know where you stand, tell me what you want and you'll have my support. But you need to go through the crew one by one and make sure you have all their support. Soon."

  "OK, I'll start on it today, but what are we going to do about Singh?"

  "I think I need some vacation. Maybe go over to New Las Vegas and play Black Jack, plunge in the flesh pots a bit."

  Jon's eyes narrowed at him, waiting for the punch line. This story was patently fiction, because Jon knew Eddie for a bit of a prude, who he'd never seen make even a small casual bet.

  "Then, maybe I'll mosey over to ISSII and visit a bit. I believe you can trust me to explain our concerns to your counterpart on ISSII. After all, I am very familiar with how people in our line of work think. I'll take along an abundant supply of one-time pads, say 500 of them on a chip, for your fellow there and he can delete them as he uses them. It's the only way you'll ever be sure your communication is not being spied on. Except of course you have to worry your pads might be stolen by the other side."

  Jon nodded.

  "Besides leaving a supply with your Swiss buddy, I'll take a set for myself to report in and if needed I can perhaps help a bit, if Singh runs into any complications."

  Jon was touching his open pad on his desk instead of using the big screen. "There is a shuttle leaving at 0300 in the morning. Do you think you could be ready that fast?

  "Sure, I want to get over there, before he tries to come back on his own."

  "What else do you need?" Jon wanted to know.

  "Well you can be using the additional time to find a backup ride, for us to get home. You didn't get a ride this morning, but if I don't get support from Security over there, or run into a Federal presence come to grab the good Doctor, there are limits to what I can do. I'm not going to try to hijack a ride to get him home. So consider this as exercise buying you some more time to get us a ride, instead of assuming I'll get him on a commercial flight. I just don't think that's very likely now."

  "There's one possibility I can look into," Jon admitted.

  "See? I know you'll think of something. And Jon? Don't do the loyalty interviews yourself. You're not near a good enough liar. Tell Margaret what you want done and have her talk to the crew. She's splendidly devious," he said with unabashed admiration.

  Chapter 16

  Eddie forced himself to slow down. He needed to project the relaxed, happy look of a man who had finally gotten time for a little break and was going to savor it. He wore a loud loose shirt which proclaimed - I'm a tourist - and had no bulky business traveler equipment.

  Fifteen minutes before the posted 0300 departure, the orbit to orbit shuttle was not loading yet. There were seats by the loading port that filled with an odd assortment of people. It was the Off-Shift so traffic was lighter in the corridors. The thin screen above the gate listed M3 time arrivals and departures for Tuesday, October 12, 2083 and the time differential if any to other ports. ISSII officially ran on Greenwich time instead of Pacific for political reasons. There were only three flights for the whole day with no layovers.

  Some of his fellow passengers were probably going to NLV to gamble and looked much like him in better casual clothing, not sweats or work wear. Some, in business attire, were probably selling supplies or services to the casinos. A few were probably dealers, servers, or entertainers returning to work.

  There had been a lunar shuttle in today and some were probably transferring from it to reach NLV. One thin fellow with a shaved head had the tight clothing and moon boots which were becoming the custom there and didn't seem to be one of th
e pretty boys who wore such outfits as a show, even if they'd never been to the moon. He also seemed comfortable in zero G. He was reading a book on a pad floating free in front of him, while he ate nuts from a bag he kept in his lap. Letting loose of a pad so it stayed in one place and didn't turn or drift long enough to read a page, was the sort of thing you didn't do easily without a lot of hours in zero G.

  One beautiful young woman seemed slightly better dressed than any of the rest. And her poker face made him think she was the other category of entertainer, some went to NLV to hire. People like her were part of the reason Eddie had not gone into the family business Earthside, but moved away and made his own way in the world. He was cursed with a conscience.

  Finally, the pilot team showed up, walking with Eddie's coworker in Security, Skip and told the small crowd they were ready to board. The younger pilot unlocked and went in the shuttle right away and the lights came on through the hatch. There was no tube extended, like a big Earth shuttle would use and the hatch was shaped completely different to seal right on the station. He could feel the familiar thumps and change in background noise as the man disconnected the vessel's utilities and went to internal power.

  The ranking pilot was an older lady, with a head of wooly hair cut in a short natural style. Almost like a helmet it was so uniform. He couldn't tell if she was on life extension therapy, or if she just had the very healthy skin some black people have, which doesn't seem prone to wrinkle. He was fairly sure he had seen them both before but couldn't remember her name. She stayed at the entry to visually check each of her passengers as they boarded, as if their station security was all fine and good, but she was responsible for her vessel. Which was true to some degree, but Eddie wondered why he had to get a hard case when he was carrying contraband.