The man in the standing suit finally ripped its frozen grip loose from the headless one on the deck and jumped back with jerky motions. His Taser must have damaged some circuits. The suit computers might trouble shoot themselves in a few seconds, if it had enough redundant circuits. The man sprayed a burst of projectile fire down the opposite corridor, not sure where the trouble was coming from and then started to swing back their way all jerky still in the damaged suit.
Jon rolled away from the door and Frank closed it, throwing himself flat in the dark. A rippling set of slits opened the wall noisily, showing the light from outside. The bullets thudding into the boxes stacked along the back wall. Then they could feel the fellow's retreating footsteps through the deck, as he ran on.
"You OK?" Jon asked with concern.
"Just fine. I landed on something soft."
"That was me," Jon explained. "I thought you were hit the way you came down. Would you mind helping me recover the bucky-braid, before a friend runs into it?"
* * *
After a long wait with no action, Neil ducked into the office briefly to check that Harris was still secure and stepped back out into the Holiday Inn lobby leaving the door ajar. He might want to move through in a hurry. He stood, hands on the counter exactly behind the logo. Soon there was a rumble of heavy feet running in combat armor and he gave his fingers a final free wiggle, before committing to clutching the detonator. He armed it and kept both hands in sight on the counter. There was a rattle of muted automatic weapons fire and more running.
A black armored suit appeared outside the glass doors running too fast to stop. He slid almost past and grabbed hold of the door handle to pivot and shoulder through with a banging of suit armor on plate glass. Neil was amazed the doors didn't shatter. A short machine gun with an oversized drum magazine was hung in a harness on his front.
On his heels two similar troopers with lighter weapons pushed through the doors and stayed back from the leader on each side. There was a glass wall panel on each side of the entry doors and through the right one Neil could see a last trailing trooper stop to point a weapon back up corridor and let off a long stream of fire. The muzzle spewed pulsating cones of purple fire and a rain of golden shell casings rattled against the glass. The leader in front of him had thrown his faceplate back saying something, but the man firing beyond the glass was so loud his mouth worked but nothing could be heard but the weapon.
In the hall the trooper, still firing, was hit with two flares of light, one grew on his chest just below his neck and the other low almost to his hips. The suit ablated for a heartbeat and then the beams cut through with a tooth ache inducing moan, like God's own fingernails drawn down the blackboard of heaven. The suit exploded messily, with a dull thud of rattling parts as the limbs blew off and a red spray across the glass. There were little wet scraps and tatters of pink and yellow, sliding down through the red.
"Shit!" the front soldier said in the sudden quiet, looking over his shoulder at the carnage. He turned back and tried again. "Harris, the manager," he repeated what was lost in the noise, "where is he and where's the back way out of this place? We've got damn devils with death rays behind us."
"I'm sorry, Sir." Neil said in the calmest of voices, "Mr. Harris is indisposed. You'll have to leave. You're not welcome here."
Art glared bug eyed, speechless with rage at this snotty civilian in white shirt and tie. He started to put hand back to his weapon and Neil turned his hand over displaying the detonator with his thumb firmly poised on it. It cut cold right through his rage and silenced him, as he recognized the military device instantly.
"I'm afraid I have the advantage of you, sir. If you'll surrender I'll try to preserve you alive," he offered kindly.
The trooper on Art's left had his weapon pointed away full left, but he took a step away from Art to make room and started swinging the muzzle around full circle to bear on Neil.
"Noooo," Art spoke more in supplication than command, but too late given the soldier's momentum.
Neil closed his eyes and lifted his thumb. The blast reflecting off the armor in front and the counter back shoving on his legs, picked Neil up and threw him through the door behind him like being hit by a ground car. Good thing he'd left it unlatched. He might have passed out a moment, as he seemed to have lost track mentally. Someone moaned pitifully and then he realized, embarrassed, it was him.
For a certainty he was aware next he was laying on his Taser, tucked in the back of his waist band. It felt huge and hard, like he was going to break his back bent over the hard thing. He rolled off it and was looking into the eyes of Harris, still struggling against the tape with which he was bound like an animal. He coughed at the dust and smoky chemical smell and spoke to Harris.
"Might as well lie easy fool. I may not know much, but I know how to truss up a silly little pig like you snug enough." His voice sounded faint and strange, through the ringing in his ears. There were drugs in the first aid kit he remembered, to keep the damage from being permanent. He felt at the tickle by his ear and his hand came away bloody and sooty. Something must have ricocheted off the hard suit and nipped him.
Neil stood and looked back through the door into the lobby. It was dim now, since about half the lamps were out overhead. There were wires and braces hanging out of the gaps in the ceiling too. The reception desk which had been straight, had a big arch of an indent pushed in the front of it by the explosion, so the middle was closer to the wall, indeed it was pushed back until it almost sealed off the doorway. The cupboard doors on his side were burst open and a slope of soap bars and spilled documents was thrown back toward him clear through the doorway.
He picked his footing carefully over this loose pile, bracing himself on the doorway to get through and leaned over the counter to look, still a bit woozy. The carpeting was pushed back off the bare metal deck in a semicircular ridge about three meters from the counter. There were streaks in a fan of straight lines, cut through the carpet by shrapnel, all the way to the pock marked wall panels. The glass doors and the glass walls on each side were just gone. Beyond the hump of pushed back carpet the two flanking troopers were sprawled. One was laying with his leg making little pushing motions. Neil couldn't tell if he was really still alive, or if it was just reflexive. Maybe even just the powered suit stuck on a command.
He pulled his Taser and dropped two full charges into the head of the suit. The motion stopped. Against the far wall of the corridor, beyond the missing doors Neil could see the hard shell of Art's torso armor and legs, with no helmet or arms on it.
Next time I can cut down on the charge a wee bit, he thought to himself. He went back in the office and picked up Harris' carryon bag. The man made some muffled sounds through his nose struggling, like a landed fish on the dock. Neil carefully set his Taser back to stun and shot him again without any enthusiasm.
* * *
The second community meeting of Home in the cafeteria, was a crazy prolonged affair. Everything was so uncertain, creating a new stability was a priority in everyone's mind. People went off to sleep and would be shaken awake by friends, urging them to get back up long enough to vote on a matter. There were eight petitions for adulthood and only one of them was turned down.
As one person had said out loud, the family sponsoring didn't have a functional adult in it anyway. The father had stood up and said if the community felt that way he would take his family and go back Earthside. He stood and waited for response, in a silence at least as long as the thirty second one they were getting used to at the end of a vote tally. Finally he had turned and left. What else was there to say to the silence?
A handful of others felt the need to publicly disavow any share in the revolution and announced they were loyal USNA citizens. A few said they intended to go back to Earth, but one indicated he wished to be a resident alien.
Steve Lewis was asked what was happening with Mitsubishi and was he still station director for the company? He related his last conversation w
ith the head of his division. "I explained the mood of the people here was such they were going to break away from North America, no matter who led. If one didn't lead another would. I told him truthfully the time was just ripe. I asked if he wanted me to remain as director, or if he wanted my resignation. He asked if there was any move to nationalize the physical structure itself and I assured him no. Also he asked if I was willing to still further the interests of Mitsubishi? I told him being a citizen of Home would make it no harder, easier actually, than being a citizen of North America."
"After those few key questions he seemed satisfied to let me remain. I asked if we could allow Jon to remain in the cubic he is using, until we could settle his funding and he waved it off as in inconsequential thing. He said it's contributed until we can afford it. In particular I was interested in when we could get supplies, as much of our supply is from North America. I asked if they could divert or send some things over from M1 or M2. He just smiled and said he'd be working on it."
"With this gentleman I know he's not blowing me off. I have confidence he's very much working on it and I didn't want to demand details, as if I doubted him. So, that's all we know for now. As long as we respect their property rights, I think we have an important ally in the company."
A long time was spent defining the right to privacy, which was such an issue. They ended up with a model even stricter than the Swiss and the agreed punishment for serious crime was banishment. They agreed since they were in danger of unexpected invaders again at anytime and were depending on volunteers to deal with them, there would be no prohibition on carrying personal weapons or arming private transport.
There was a young Oriental woman going around the cafeteria, taking pictures and doing short interviews with whomever would speak to her. April recognized her. She had entered the Holiday Inn lobby taking pix, not long after April and Easy had arrived to rescue Neil, with Frank and Jon on their heels. Of course they'd quickly found Neil had not needed rescued. She seemed to be some sort of reporter, but she hadn't talked to April yet. Nobody seemed worried to have their face shown on the news. April was way past sweating it herself.
The few times their relationship with the USNA was brought to the floor, there was no agreement to be had. Not even enough to bring a vote.
A few skeptically asked for explanations of the Happy Lewis being able to defeat regular war craft and why they had fought. Nam-Kah explained her reasons for refusing to go back to China under arrest and what it would have meant to be imprisoned and interrogated in her country.
She also explained besides what the Happy Lewis carried before, she had also produced an additional device that gave them an unexpected edge for military action and had loaned a copy to the owners and crew of the vessel Happy Lewis. She was also prepared to loan a copy to the ship Home Boy, Eddie Persico was preparing. The device was something besides herself, she didn't want the Chinese government controlling. She didn't explain details of its nature, but was blunt about what its effect was on a target.
Several people immediately framed questions about her supplying copies to a military, which they would form to defend Home. She was firm in answering this question was not open to a vote. The discovery and devices were her private intellectual property and she was unalterably opposed to having a professional military, just as she and her husband were opposed to having a professional political class. As she put it - each profession seeks what they exist for. If there are professional politicians they will seek as much power as they can grasp. If there are professional soldiers they will find something to fight and they will do whatever the people who pay them want.
"The people who invaded us had no personal reason to do so. They were just thugs in the hire of their politicians. All professional military castes become corrupted in time. I simply won't license or supply my inventions to others, out of my control, that may use them in immoral ways." The lunar residents, she intimated, had a number of other technologies nobody had been in a hurry to share with Earth. The possibilities were ripe for quiet assistance there also.
They came back to the USNA question, between other issues, for hours, but eventually in a moment of silence when they had all grown weary, Mr. Muños spoke. "People, I have a proposal. Will you hear it?" There was a murmur of approval but he wanted a clear voice. Steve Lewis spoke up and said. "Please Mr. Muños. We have gotten used to you as chairman. You have been patient and not asked before to speak for yourself. What would you propose?"
"We seem to like things simpler than most people have grown accustomed to with governments. We have six interest groups registered already, which will meet as a legislature and I'm sure we will have more. I have already been invited to join several which are attempting to form. It is tough to decide which will address my concerns best. We have an agreement we will have a annual referendum for public questions. Unfortunately we need to speak in a single voice to the USNA soon and as some of you may not realize, we need to do so to the Chinese and other powers also. We can take our time and formulate our government to suit us perfectly, even if it takes a few years to work out the details internally. I think we are progressing nicely."
"However if we do not have a voice speaking to the powers of Earth within days, they will take the silence as a vacuum of power and move to grasp power back away from us. Jon Davis has been Security Chief now for only four months. I will ask a question and want a public response. Is there anyone unhappy with him who has been treated unfairly by him? If he leaned on anyone, ignored their real need out of laziness, or to favor a friend speak now. We really want to know and I'll make damn sure it doesn't come back on you."
There was nothing for a long silent moment. Then Muños saw a call on his pad and plugged it in to broadcast. "Yes. What is your statement?" he asked.
"I'm Wally Friedman, uh, I'm only up here on a six month. Don't know if I'll stay or go back down, or what. But I like it here if I can find something to do when things settle down. Couple of weeks ago I got a couple beers too many in me. Not something I make a habit of, not to make an excuse, but true."
"Anyway, Jon got called because I was out in public pressure and making a fuss. Now I'm ashamed to say I said some things to him that weren't very nice. Used some bad language. Tried to take a poke at him. He kinda took me by the collar and thumped the corridor wall a few times with me, to get through the beer haze. Whispered in my ear real low to straighten up and behave myself, before he hauled me home."
"So you have a complaint about excessive force?" Muños asked
"No, no. That's the point. You seen that sucker? He's built like a damn fire hydrant on steroids. I couldn't put a scratch on him full sober. He could of roughed me up real good. I gave him every reason to. Swung at him. Cussed him. He talked to me like my daddy. Took me home and shoved me in the door and told me to sleep it off. If I did that down home in Knoxville, the cops woulda beat the snot outta me."
"Next morning he calls me early before shift start and asks if I'm OK? Said he'd call my boss if I couldn't face work. Told me if I had some serious problem eating at me, to come see him and he'd find somebody to help me, but I couldn't keep tearing up in public like yesterday, or I'd be too much trouble for folks to put up with and I'd be back downstairs on the 'slum ball' as he put it."
"I'm not complaining. I'm saying he's exactly the kinda guy for the job. Doesn't enjoy pounding somebody like some cops do. Really cares about people. Real respectful, even of somebody like me who's not anyone especially important. I'm not sure what you are building up to with Jon, Mr. Muños, but if it's to keep him on for security for Home, you won't do any better."
"Thank You. Yes, that's sort of what I'm building up to. I can see Dr. Singh's point of not having an institutionalized military. Yet we already have folks who have made themselves our militia and it will need some order imposed, more than a social club. Also any community needs some form of policing, as Mr. Friedman pointed out, for even minor matters of public order. I don't think we'll ever have a
community which is free of all minor disturbance. So here is my proposal. I suggest we appoint Jon Davis as head of Security for Home, whatever his relationship with Mitsubishi, with the added responsibility of being the coordinating head of the militia. I propose he be our current voice to address other states and powers, as we instruct him, until such time as the people appoint another to speak publicly for us. Sort of a public information officer. A temporary ambassador at large. I propose he may choose such others to help him as he wishes and draft as simple as possible a statement of our political existence and independence, to be submitted to this body for a yes or no vote, tomorrow at this time."
"This is the first proposal to establish a public service for Home. I hope that we never grow to love a huge establishment of agencies and bureaucracies like are the Earth custom. But we do need some basics. Let me voice my second proposal also because it's an integral part of the first. I propose all services of the government of home may not be funded by any action of the legislature. I propose we remove the power of taxation and spending the public purse from the hands of the legislature. They will be an advisory body. They can propose policy and they can suggest formation of agency, but the head of each agency must submit an annual budget and a statement of what services the agency will provide to public vote for approval. If you choose to have a say, you tax yourself. If you choose to refrain from voting you will scroll off the tax rolls in a year, but you have no say anymore in how the community is run."
"You may think it is too great a burden to ask you each to take the needed time to learn what the issues and proposals are being put forth. But I suggest it is no more effort than we already expend, to satisfy a complex tax code and hire professionals to limit our payments and keep us out of tax court. Yet we have very little voice in the end anyway. If someone is unwilling or unable to meet their obligation to pay, which they assumed, we don't kick them out of their home, or jail them, we just post public notice they are unable to vote again, until they have paid up what they agreed, we don't criminalize debt."
April Page 52
