"No Dr. Singh. Your boy's friend Heather knew I was going to record as much as I could and loaded a better video compression program and she installed a 800 terabyte module in the suit and gave me another to put in if the first ever filled up. I have the whole trip basically."
"Well then. Let's assemble a file." Easy suggested. "It's a shame you don't have footage of yourself scrubbing up unsuited. That would suck in a huge audience of young Earth bucks." He was incredibly fast and ducked in time as she swung at him.
* * *
Jon had just sat to eat and hadn't taken a bite yet, when his pad gave the irritating buzz which meant he had a high priority call, not just a personal message. He put down the fork with a sigh. Looking at the steam rising off his hot food. He'd probably have to dump it and leave. The screen flipped open, showed his man Skip.
"Jon I have someone in the storage locker right now. Thought you'd like to know. Here's what he looks like." His picture shrank to a small square in the corner and the full screen showed a young man in the locker, loading a quantity of ammunition from the separate box into the hard case for the assault rifle. If he tried to use it, he would be very disappointed to find out the tip of the firing pin had been broken off by Jon's people, before they replaced it in the case. It would sound right if you dry fired it but it would not hit the primer. It was not however Doris' father.
Jon could not place the fellow and a casual match did not turn him up in the department data, so he was not someone who had come in since they started recording all the shuttles for face data. His clothing was probably work clothing, although it was not a jump suit and did not have any logos. It was more like what someone would wear for maintenance work if they expected to stay in spin.
"Good work Skippo. As long as he doesn't take the missile pack just let him go and we'll track him. Even if you lose him we have a face now. So don't take any risks. If you can find out where he lives, then put another camera there. Make sure who is in the rental office this shift helping him too. Call if you need a partner to do it right or anything else." And he closed up the pad, happy his food was still hot.
As he was finishing up desert Skip called back. "Jon your fellow with the assault rifle has gone to Chalmer's apartment. And I have a news bulletin for you. Mrs. Chalmers was on the last shuttle down for Hawaii. What you want to bet she is connecting home to Canada?"
"Probably Skip. You happy with the camera coverage Frank set up? You having any trouble covering? Need anything?"
"No troubles mate. Frank and Margaret are super to work with. Just wish there were three of each of us. You know? Then one could take a turn to sleep."
* * *
"This is Easy Dixon calling anyone on the M3 construction gang. Anybody out there in a scooter? I'm way out at 35K using a dish. You should set your radio switch to auto-track on your long range dish, to reach back to me." He forced himself to watch the clock in his screen corner count off fifteen seconds and asked again. "Easy here. Anybody read me on the work crew?"
A fuzzy voice came back with lots of noise in the background. "Easy this is Jason pushing tanks into storage in a scooter. You're so faint the dish had a hard time locking on. Are you in trouble again? Shot the hell out of a whole shift, last time we had to chase you with tanks dry. Don't tell me you decided to start an interstellar voyage again."
"Jas we have a little problem here," Easy explained. "We went over to ISSII and the damn Chinese tried to shoot us up, then tried to ram us with the yard tractor. We left without clearance and the Chinese and the USNA both tried to intercept us. We need real badly to get patched into the local net there and upload news to our families we are OK. We also want to upload some video and news to them, to pass on to the media, because the USNA is going to come pretty soon and lock down everyone on M3 and take over before the Rock comes into final orbit. We figured you guys should know to expect a big ship load of soldiers any day. They'll probably ship most everybody on M3 home before they're done. Can you help us?"
"Easy I'd be happy to, but you're coming through all full of static and drop outs. If you send me video it's going to be all corrupted and take forever. Marty is in the dispatcher's shack right now. He's an OK fellow. Switch over to the dispatcher's channel and let me tell him to put a big dish with some serious gain on you and he can take your download a lot better. Besides, I'm supposed to be working and using the dish disconnects me from the omnidirectional feed for the local work channel. It's not safe to stay off it. He can route you through his big dish and still talk to all of us locally. I'll tell him where to point from my dish's attitude and he'll call you in a minute. Hold on now," he signed off casually.
"Is this Marty trustworthy Easy?" Dr. Singh was worried about being transferred.
Before Easy could reply a new voice boomed out of their headphones. "Hey, Easy what the heck are you doing? You think I'm your private telephone operator?" This time the voice was without the static and distortion.
"Well hard as it is to believe, somebody tried to shoot my delicate little lovable butt off Marty. If we try to speak to Earthside control they just give us the run around and tell us to sit tight and shut up. We had a little run in and were given firm word the USNA is coming in to lock you guys down and take over with military. But I guess you won't mind if they cut your contract short and send you home. It's not like you do anything but blow all the extra money when you hit dirt anyway right?"
"Huh! If I go back home to Mama without my full pay and bonus, I better pray the shuttle crashes and burns. How sure are you about this? All these vacuum rats will go nuts if they're locked down in quarters and can't work. Show us what ya got."
"Here's our message files all in the clear. The rest is a big load even compressed. You're welcome to see all of it and share it with the whole construction crew. My ship owner Bob Lewis, is supposed to send the video on to some of the news people, so we're giving just part of it to him encrypted and after he has a chance to use it he's instructed to share it with everybody on M3. We cut out some stills for you to have right away though. Enough to back up the story. Then if you want to send it to your families or friends Earthside go ahead. Look about 12 minutes into it and you'll see the head of security at ISSII telling us the USNA is going to lock us down. Is this agreeable to you?"
"Sure Easy. Don't mean to call you a liar either. You've always done your job and known what you were talking about. Just something like this - you don't take it as gossip. I'll route the mail to your people right now and put the files in our server with a blurb in the wake up calls and shift news, for each of the next four shifts. You going to be coming back in here to M3 or what?"
"We don't know yet Marty. Depends a lot on what we hear from Earthside after this hits the news. We are out at geostationary level orbit and may stay out here awhile if we're going to get shot at again."
"You look at the preface, which has still frames of our video and you'll see why we might not be welcome when we return. It shows two ships dying. Here's your data feed now. Don't disconnect us down when it's done. We have a code we want to try in the system or I may get back to you on voice." Easy touched the send icon on the screen and watched the file feed steadily. He didn't relax until it was all safely transmitted.
"Okay, you want to try this contact routine with Jon?"
April punched in 898989.
* * *
"They what?" Bob Lewis asked, when Jon called and explained about the video files he was receiving. "Since when did our scooter have all these weapon systems bolted on?" I don't remember budgeting any such thing and it sounds expensive. Is the ship still whole or do they have damage?" he wanted to know.
"The gun and the missiles were both carried loose," Jon explained. "The lasers are borrowed from Jeff's friends and just mounted temporary on the camera arm and a control cable run up to them. It's all their private property, not ships systems really. That's why you didn't see any line items for it. There is probably a couple hundred bucks somewhere for a cable to the
camera arm head and labor to tie it down along the arm.
Jon learned a lot about Bob he'd rather not have known. There was not one question from him about his crew's safety. Not even his own sister.
"I'll do the best I can," Bob agreed. "We're going to need the funds, because when this goes public my insurance underwriter is going to have a fit. I may have to go naked if we can't afford the premiums," he complained.
Jon could pleasantly picture him naked - in a cycling airlock with an alarmed expression and his cheeks puffed out.
* * *
"I'm not asking for payment for a news story," Bob Lewis explained patiently. "I've already given you the story for free and you can do what you want with it. I'm sure you have lots of ways to check its accuracy. I'm offering you the video, which makes the story more than just talking heads. Without the video it's just a he said, ho-hum story." He explained patiently.
"This is the first recorded space battle, which has ships attacking within close camera range of each other. It's spectacular. It has the audio in the clear between the ship commanders and video of hand to hand combat in p-suits. It's going to be ranked as famous a historical treasure as pics of the Hindenburg in flames, the early Space Shuttle disasters, Kennedy getting shot in Dallas, the planes hitting the World Trade Center or Kargil getting nuked."
"And I'm offering you a twelve or twenty-four hour first use exclusive, on the only full file. After the contract period I can offer partials and stills to others, but you still have the whole package to sublet as you wish for the exclusive period, while it's still news instead of history."
"If you don't take it they'll be talking about you for years in the news business. They'll say - Remember the guy at BBC who shot his career in the head and told the chap with the Happy Lewis video to go sell it to the French? Sad case, what the hell was the man thinking? Up to you. If you want a couple still frames to sell the package to your bosses I will sell them to you cheap, with a limited use license and a non-disclosure agreement. Then you have fifteen minutes to talk to your directors."
"If you can't make a decision in that time frame the offer is withdrawn and I will sell it to someone else and you can watch it on their news channel while you start refreshing your resume. If you can't handle making a call on the big stories you shouldn't be sitting in the chair. If you even have to ask your bosses what you should do they're going to remember it and realize the footage almost got away."
The man looking back at him did not disguise his anger and dislike for Bob. "I don't have the authority to spend that kind of money. I can't imagine anybody paying ten million Euro for a video, if it was the second coming complete with a sound track of the heavenly trumpets."
He didn't like some kid talking to him like an equal. Take it back. Talking down to him. He didn't like being put on the spot to make a decision about anything either. He had been successfully for years, avoiding any decisions which could possibly be laid at his feet if they went bad.
"Well then you're wasting my time. I didn't know you were just the night receptionist. Do you want to transfer me to a boss, or should I just move on?"
When he split the screen and called up another man, he was only off screen about a half minute in private, before the other fellow came on the split. He had obviously been awakened to join them and the news director was still going on about how sorry he was to wake him up.
"Mac, if you are going to stay in the conference call shut the hell up. I'm awake and I want to hear why. If there was no good reason it's too late to say anything to make it any better and if there is a good reason I need to hear what it is. Now, you young fellow. I'm John Briggs and I need two facts first. Who are you and what have you got to peddle to us?"
Bob smiled. Here was somebody he could talk to.
* * *
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Peter Hadley muttered, looking at the wall screen and the destruction of one of the most advanced and expensive space planes his nation had built. His advisers, clustered away from the screen kept silent and watched the horrible scene licensed to CNN by BBC. Early risers in much of Europe were seeing it before breakfast and parts of Asia watching it as late news.
He watched for the second time the shattered halves of the ship tumble away from each other in a debris field and the front portion pass in front of the burnt and warped husk which had been the Jade, drifting dead near it. He was sitting in a green robe and burgundy slippers with his hair uncombed and had been awakened early, but not quickly enough to direct the first response to this news.
"There are all kinds of lies you can get away with," he explained. "Some will last forever. Some will last until the people involved are all dead, some you hope will last long enough nobody really cares about them any longer. This though, has the potential life of a fruit fly. Didn't anybody think before they told a whooper, which will be meat for political cartoonists and comedians tomorrow?"
"We only have seven planes of this class and the crews are all an elite who are used for recruiting and followed by space nuts just like baseball heroes or music stars. There is no way you can deny losing one and just switch another for it, or have them whip up a replacement in secret. It takes almost a year to build one of the things and the assembly building already has two in progress. They are even named before they are finished, with mission dates assigned and crews waiting for them to be released."
"It just seemed like the right thing, to not verify such a outrageous claim without hard proof. I mean - How can it possibly be a true account for a light work scooter to destroy two major vessels like nothing?" His press secretary asked.
"Do you think they faked this in a studio? Drew it all in a computer? I'm sure they sat around a table and asked how it could happen, when the American Pacific fleet was wiped out at Pearl Harbor by a bunch of backward Japanese, who all the military experts said were still flying obsolete biplanes. But it didn't bring them floating back to the surface. And they sure as hell didn't make matters worse, by telling the press the stories of the attack were unconfirmed and unlikely."
"I can't even safely go to bed without somebody doing major damage before I wake up. Thank Goodness - at least the Chinese opened fire first. Not as if they're going to apologize for doing so, anymore than the Captain of the Jade did. Arrogant bunch of xenophobes!"
He nodded at the screen. "Go back to the scene where the director of Security on ISSII speaks to the shuttle pilot." He watched it carefully again.
"There's no way to say he means something else. Damn his lack of diplomacy. I wonder if he knew they were recording him? It doesn't seem rehearsed. Just standing around seeing his buddy off and telling war stories. He certainly committed the Europeans to at least offering this Nam-Kah asylum if we refuse to. He seems to be committed to driving a wedge between the Chinese and us."
"If we hand her back to the Chinese now we'll never live it down. If they manage to return to M3, then when we lock down the station, the newsies will be on us to account for her. We'll have to separate her and get her away from the station as soon as we can, before we close it off. It would be better from a public relations view to grant her asylum, but she's not worth a war. And I'd rather see her returned, than the Europeans take her in and rub our noses in it."
"Let's see the fight in the cabin again and slow it down." The helmet camera view from April's suit, swung around to the frightening monster of the Chinese officer in his space armor. His hard expression was easily seen through the faceplate. The machine pistol looked huge pushed out in front of him closer to the camera lens. He filled the view so much, you could not see what Ajay was doing behind. There was a brief view of his feet pushing off the overhead, as he did a one bouncer to come up behind the man and the flash of the blade so fast it was an elongated silver blur even in the slow motion.
The blade went through hard suit cuff and wrist inside with no noticeable slowing. The stub was not even dragged along by the blade. It just sheared it as clean as a wax model being cut with a razor. He h
ad not noticed it in normal play speed, but in slow motion he saw what stopped the blade was it bit deeply into the man's pelvis, through the equipment anchored around the hips of his suit, in as far as the centerline of the leg. That blow alone would have been fatal without what happened next. The man's face through the glass finally registered shock, long after the blade was stopped. The air escaping from both wounds spun him around, as did the sword being yanked out of the hip.
As he spun around, he flew face first back into Ajay, who was briefly visible, still drawing the sword back in a two handed grip for a thrust, his elbows out and his face a mask of fury. As he spun back into him, Ajay wrapped his legs around the man's waist until his ankles almost crossed. Then with the man's back centered in the camera view, the point of the sword suddenly appeared in the center of the man's back.
Even in slow motion it didn't emerge. One frame it was blank armor and the next the blade was just there. The entire suit jerked with the power of the thrust. The detail of its classical Japanese faceted blade end was easy to see in the video. Even the patterns in the steel and dark wiggly line along the cutting edge. There was too little sticking out to see the curve of the blade.
"Son of a bitch," one of the military men muttered, in genuine shock. Ajay's contorted face showed briefly over the suit's shoulder. "Just your typical middle aged scientist, out for a cruise. It really takes big brass ones, to dive into a guy holding an automatic weapon with a damn knife. And who the hell carries around a frigging sword on a space ship?"
"I don't know," the fellow at his elbow said. "But I might write a paper recommending it and attach this file as a footnote. Notice he finished him off nicely, but didn't damage anything on the ship? If the Chinaman had used the pistol inside, you can pretty well bet he would have destroyed some vital system on the ship, instead of hijacking it as he wanted."
"Go back to the scene where they are shooting the antenna off the station," the president again requested, ignoring the banter. He watched the green square beam play back and forth across the shapes like a garden hose. It didn't pulse with pauses to build back up. Apparently it was capable of going on and on. "I want to hear from our people what kind of power they have to run those weapons continuously," he told Frank and the men gathered behind him.
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