"Exactly, they'd work around it. You thought of a way to do it in seconds. But then people would be even more upset, because they'd know their intent was made public, and other people thwarted their will on it," Jeff predicted. "Then they'd probably pass another law that would be circumvented. Every cycle leaves you with more and more people angry that they didn't get the result they wanted. That's how you get factions, and class divisions. Pretty soon you have people making a living as a politician by promising to fix the inequities. Better to treat as many as possible, as well as possible, and the resentment doesn't keep building until it's just like the Slum Ball here."
"Put that way, my scrambled eggs will be just fine, and the potatoes a treat. Steak would be nice, but not worth having my fellow citizens hate me," April agreed.
"Down below, they wouldn't worry if anybody hates them. They have more people than they need. You can kind of understand why they grab their own wants and ignore the people it may make unhappy, because there's no chance it will ever be equitable, they can't imagine making that happen, and everybody having a chance at the nice things," Jeff said. "Here, everybody is just a temporarily embarrassed billionaire, down on his luck. And by next year he may be buying that steak even if he is only a millionaire. Things are getting better for all of us, and I don't see any way for that to happen down on Earth."
"Not the way they run it at least," April agreed. "You seem to understand these social forces better than I'd expect."
"The bigger forces and mob movements are easy to understand," Jeff said, waving his hands in conflicting motions. "It's knowing what to reply when one person asks a rude question face to face, or assumes something about you that is wrong, and needs to be corrected without alienating them. That's the social stuff that trips me up."
"Here comes the first act," April said, catching the slight dimming of the lights.
The bartender introduced a man by name. The poor bartender didn't have much else to do because their stock of liquor and wine was almost gone. Beer was unobtainable. He was a terrific bartender however, and they'd pay him as long as they could because they wanted to retain him for when things picked up again.
April wasn't sure who the musician was or where he worked. Home had grown until she didn't know everybody, even by sight. The musician didn't work in vacuum however, you could tell because he had long braided hair. He had an acoustical guitar with no electronics connected to it at all. In the very limited cubic of the club it was entirely adequate. The thing that made him stand out was he played in three different styles and sang to all of them. He played some blues, a folk song that might have been Irish, but April wasn't sure, and another song where his guitar was just a back ground rhythm and all the complexity was in his voice. He did three songs and then took a break.
As soon as he left the stage they were served. Jeff saw several people looking at their table in such a way he was fairly certain they were taking video with their spex, either to show as a whole or to isolate frames later. He was glad actually. If he wasn't sure someone else would volunteer he might have arranged for April to be recorded. He cared about April's public image, even if she didn't, and the simple meal they both had was worth showing people for all the reasons he'd explained. If he didn't understand individuals, she similarly didn't always seem to understand group dynamics. Her dress was marvelous, which was all to her advantage as nobody could rightfully begrudge her looking good. She looked relaxed, and Jeff assumed she wasn't aware of the scrutiny, so he didn't mention it.
After a couple more acts, Jeff concluded the audience stayed more reserved and polite when they had very little alcohol to serve. It was too bad but he was going to bring that to an end soon all by himself. He had a locally made thousand liter tank at Central, slowly filling with ethyl alcohol from the waste products of their paper making and other crops. Heather had rights to most of it. He had plans for his portion.
He had a hundred kilograms of hardwood oak and maple cubes he'd bought surplus in New Zealand. They were originally for craft projects, but he'd been adding them in small lots to his cargo as filler, to meet his exact weight allowances. He intended to heat them to charcoal and dump them in the tank. He could hardly afford to lift huge heavy barrels, with the inside charred, to the moon.
Just as people had once sent barrels of whiskey out on ships so the motion sloshed the whiskey over the char and aged it faster, he would circulate the liquor to promote aging. He suspected this would flavor whiskey just as well as the customary way. It would be about a hundred forty proof, but his customers could dial that back with distilled water if they wanted.
With any luck at all it would be marketable in a year. He intended to set a little aside each year in smaller tanks to age longer. It should be a good investment. He had a lunar supplier engaged to make thin lightweight bottles of glass. Most spacers were leery of anything in glass, but these bottles were of the same sort of glass Earthies used in armored ground cars. You could use one of these bottles for a hammer if you wanted. They'd be a novelty.
They had a pianist who played jazz, and for a couple numbers a trumpet and some percussion joined her. Jeff thought Ruby, April's friend who managed the cafeteria, was a much better pianist.
Their plates were long cleared, and others had come and gone, when there was a comedian. Jeff didn't think he was funny. Mostly a few people laughed when he said mean things, or truthful things nobody really wanted to hear. But Jeff didn't say anything to April. April however didn't object when Jeff indicated he was ready to leave. They still were polite enough to wait until the act was done to exit. When they were near the door, April gave a come here tilt of her head to the maître d'.
"Phillip, I don't know who invited the comedian we just saw, but I'd rather he be dropped. I don't think he promotes a happy atmosphere. If someone with a larger interest than me has an objection to that send him to me to discuss it."
"I have a much smaller share than you, but I agree, and will add my voice on the matter. My feeling is he got put on the play bill by being pushy to be included. I'll call you privately if there is any problem," Phillip promised.
"I felt the same way," Jeff confessed in the corridor, but he'd kept out of it having no ownership.
"Of course you did," April said. "You practically jerked at a few of the crude remarks and political digs. You're perfectly willing to politely tell somebody, in a normal voice, that you are prepared to drop thermonuclear hell upon their heads, but you'd never frame it in crude sarcastic language."
"Thank you, I think...That's how I would rather be, quite consciously. The people he was addressing had no defense, even if they are slime. He speaks from the safety of distance and obscurity. If any of his targets were actually in the audience tonight they would have been within their rights to call him out. I suspect the people who laughed loudest are not ones I would befriend."
"That's another reason I was happy to leave, although it is late anyway. I could see him saying something so outrageous you would stand and offer to meet him in the morning," April said.
"I haven't done that yet," Jeff pointed out. "Although I reserve the privilege. It was hard won, and separates us from those Earthies who value safety and order over everything, including honor and integrity."
"In that case I have to ask how much range time you've had, in say, the last month?"
The silence was prolonged.
"Tomorrow morning. You'll come with me," April insisted.
"I'm awfully busy..." Jeff said.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," April said, looking sad. "I hoped you might have time to stop by tonight, but I understand."
"I'm sure if we get up early enough there won't be any wait at the range," Jeff allowed.
"Exactly my thought too," April agreed.
* * *
Jeff had breakfast alone at his office. A thermal mug of coffee from April, and a chocolate and cherry flavored protein bar from his pencil drawer. Which was more than he bothered to have some morning
s. April went to some meeting early. She'd roused him at an ungodly hour to take him to the range. All six lanes were open that early in main shift, and nobody came in until they were almost ready to leave. The range would revert to handball courts mid-shift. He did OK, but wasn't going to hang his targets out in the corridor to brag on, like some parents did with their children's art.
In fairness she made them coffee first thing, a full pot at full strength. So he was semi conscious by the time he had to peer over his sights. April pointed out he might have to shoot jolted from a deep sleep in the middle of the night, without the benefit of adequate lighting, never mind stimulants.
He checked for any mail with Tobiuo in the title or body. Their shuttle was slinging around the moon and would be braking for Home soon. Then critical business satisfied he looked on the gossip boards for anything to do with April, The Fox and Hare, and reluctantly added his own name. He might find something in a self search about being with April last night, or something he'd rather not see. That was the danger of searching the gossip boards. They reminded him some people just didn't like him.
The gossip board, He Said She Said, had a nice short video of April walking to their table that showed her dress nicely. Then there was an editing cut and they were shown seated eating. The angle was slightly down, so whoever shot it was across the floor from them and higher, up in one of the booths with privacy screens between them set to look over the tables on the floor to have a good view of the stage. The angle was more from April's side, not straight on.
Jeff looked at his own video of the room he'd panned from their table with his spex. The tall striking brunette in the sparkly sapphire dress had to be the one taking video. He isolated her face and set a search up. The man with her was in what was regarded as formal business wear on Home. A long sleeved shirt and long pants, but he had his spex laying on the table so he likely didn't take the pix. He probably had to wear them all day at work and was happy to take them off when he got off work and went to dinner.
The video was at a slight angle looking down showed their plates. He picked up a grilled cheese and ate it as he watched. The video picked up the piano music, but didn't invade their privacy. He and April exchanged a few words, but it wasn't audible even as a low murmur, so the lady hadn't used a directional mic. She hadn't planned ahead to record them most likely. She also panned to the pianist and showed his fingers working the keys for a little before fading out to end it nicely. She was just another person who liked to seem knowledgeable about social things to her online friends, and brag on where she'd been. He Said She Said, and similar boards thrived on unsolicited reports from regular readers.
When the video was over he read the blurb. It was short and complimentary, speaking about the club and the food. She seemed to mention April because of her dress, which she liked, and the fact April was as close to a celebrity as she saw there. He got the impression going to the Fox and Hare was a special treat. It was expensive, and April didn't go often because as a part owner they wouldn't present her a bill. That made it a treat for him too.
The search found a different video of her promoting her company. She was a placement executive for an employment service. The company was located on the executive level where communications and the cafeteria were located, so it had to be doing well to be able to afford the rent there.
Jeff stopped searching, satisfied April was being treated well. He hadn't been mentioned at all by the woman. That was fine. April was a much better public face for their enterprises. Now what he wanted was a label for his whiskey bottles. He wasn't sure what sort of image he wanted yet. Something with the moon on it? Or perhaps something whimsical, with pirates...
* * *
Tetsuo, or 'T' as some called him in his former shadowy professional life, Papa-san to family and a very few close others, was relaxed, reading an interesting book about horse cavalry in the era just prior to what was known as the Great War to its author, and the First World War to the next generation.
The door signal chimed, surprising him. His wife was out shopping and doing some sort of business she hadn't detailed. His man Chen Lee's family shared the large cubic Tetsuo and his wife Lin owned. Chen was away, working on a project for both Jeff Singh and the militia. Chen's wife was off somewhere, her children off at school, and they slept away in full G, so they were hardly ever around. Despite having a packed double household it wasn't unusual for him to be home alone.
None of his business associates would appear at his door without calling or sending him a text. He didn't consider himself dressed for company. He had on running pants and an old t-shirt.
Since he was working at the com desk he brought the entry camera up on the screen. There was a uniformed man with a grey cap on. Above the bill it said, Larkin Lines, and had a very old fashioned representation of a Flash Gordon style space ship embroidered. He had a hand tablet, which wasn't unusual for a delivery service. He probably needed a signature.
What was less usual were the four armored up gentlemen with him. Two with slung weapons and two wheeling hand carts who only carried sidearms. The hand carts had a couple small boxes each, they seemed rather small to warrant such transport. The other two, unencumbered with a cart, stood back against the corridor wall, weapons hung across their chests, but holding the grips.
A really big plus was that they seemed uninterested in the entry, at which he might appear. Instead they were watching the corridor in opposite directions. All of them had on ballistic face shields, but clear, not hiding their faces. They all had a large logo patch high on their chest with the distinctive bear track design of a well known security firm.
There were so many conflicting signals from this unexpected visit that Tetsuo didn't know what to make of it. His life long career made him cautious, but he knew this firm, and all the signals he was getting said they were concerned with other threats, not him.
The patches were not something any sane person who knew the firm would appropriate, to present a false identity for an operation. Someone doing that would become accident prone, across continents and national borders. Safer to choose the Swiss Guard or the French Foreign Legion to spoof.
Tetsuo thought it safe to answer the door, but caution still was a powerful habit. Answering it with a silly little pistol in his hand would be meaningless with these fellows. He keyed the mic for the door intercom and informed them he was coming. He got in his drawer of odds and ends under the console and got a small pen light. Wrapping the lens end inside his fist he answered the door with his thumb firmly pressed on the end and held in close over his breast bone.
He palmed the door open to greet his guests, "Good afternoon. How may I help you gentlemen?"
The fellow with the Larkin's Line cap didn't even glance at his hand. But the agents against the wall both riveted eyes on his fist and the little cylinder. One seemed to suddenly run out of spit and started licking his lips nervously. He had no idea what sort of automated security system releasing that little button unleashed. It could be as complex as armed AI robots with friend or foe recognition, or as simple as a couple claymores set to clear the whole corridor. The man was standing back a little in the entry. Such systems tended to be bought by those people with serious known security issues, and were more effective than they wished to experience.
"I have a delivery for a Huian," the man said looking uncertain, and pronouncing it slowly. "I'm not sure if that's his given name or a surname."
"That is a given name, and a lady. We usually do not refer to her by her family name. If they didn't give you a surname then I doubt it is any concern of yours. I am Tetsuo, the householder here. Huian and her husband share the cubic with my family, so you do have the right address. If you have something to deliver that's fine, I'd be happy to receive it for her."
"Hmm...wish I could," the deliveryman said. "My ticket says signed delivery or her authorized agent, but there are none listed."
"Huian is listed on station com. Why don't you call her and get a
face to face authorization to release it to me as her agent?" Tetsuo suggested.
"Good idea," the man agreed. He had her code looked up and called her in seconds. "Hello," Huian said, "I'm afraid I don't know you," Tetsuo heard her say cautiously from the pad.
"Paul Ligget for Larkin Lines, Ma'am. I have a special flight, special delivery for you, but I need a signature. A verbal authorization isn't sufficient. Do you want to link and give me a binding digital signature to release your delivery to Mr. Tetsuo?"
"I wasn't expecting anything," Huian said from the pad speakers. "I don't remember ordering anything, but I'm perhaps a five minute walk away. Why don't you put your delivery in the entry – the emergency lock – and I'll be there quickly to see what you have, and if it is correct and for me, I'll give you my mark and use my hanko. It is considered a legally superior endorsement to a freehand signature on Home."
"Yes Ma'am. I've had a number of people use those here. I'm very familiar with them. We'll do that and be waiting for you." He hit disconnect and looked at Tetsuo expectantly.
"Just a moment," Tetsuo said, "I need to turn off my security system." He retreated to his com console and stowed the pen light away, before he returned and indicated to which side they should set the boxes. The security men looked much happier. Tetsuo stood at the inner entry, where an air curtain would seal it off if there was a pressure emergency. He had no inclination to invite them in further.
Huian appeared very quickly. She must have almost ran. The man presented a hard copy to sign with both a bill of lading and a message to the recipient.
"Security circumstances continue to deteriorate. May personally follow the shipment. Myat."
The bill listed eight ingots in four cases, net weight ninety nine point two kilograms. Gross weight one hundred thirty four point seven four kilograms. The wooded boxes were screwed shut and had tamper proof tape wound around all three axis. They had to have cost a fortune to ship, and beyond cost, some influence to have them scheduled.
They Said It Would Be Easy (April Book 7) Page 13
