When they had a proper list she informed them each would chose an item in turn until the list was divided. Since neither wanted to give up first choice she flipped a coin for it. It was painful to observe and took longer than it should have but eventually they had everything divvied up. She refused to hear any arguments about who brought more assets to the marriage or earned more and ordered them to divide the cash they held in accounts back in China equally. They had formed a partnership and she considered that put everything in one pot, so to speak. If the chaos below precluded them doing that now they were ordered to do so when it became possible.
"What about our home?" the disgruntled husband asked, scowling.
"It is my judgment, that your conflict though technically resolved will not end now given your attitudes. You have both insisted on a public display that I doubt you understand has left many in the community disgusted with both of you. Your insistence others take sides has put others in untenable positions at their work or in serving others in this downsized community. This has to end. Therefore one of you must leave.
"I will provide transportation to Central, any of the other moon colonies, or Home. Points beyond those are at your own cost and pleasure. Whoever leaves will forfeit any ownership of your home. There is no market for it yet or indeed any way to value it at present. Unless you can show a willing buyer with a cash offer and explain where and how the one remaining is going to live without shelter, it passes undivided. The fact you recently gained ownership of it was strictly a gift of your sovereign and Peer Singh. China in relinquishing sovereignty over the base gave complete ownership to Peer Singh. He could have as easily retained ownership of every square meter and structure and demanded rent of those who elected to stay."
"We are not peasants!" the wife sneered.
Annette stifled the urge to chose the woman for exile based on that remark alone. She took a deep breath and calmed herself.
"Of the two, does one have skills which would be more difficult to do without or replace?" she asked the audience. There were six people physically present since it was past main shift, all responsible workers, and several more observing on the local net.
The one administrator, Feng, who had stayed over from the Chinese administration was acting as a manager now. He looked from one spouse to the other.
"Wo is a heavy machinery mechanic. He works on the rovers and some of the stationary equipment. It isn't that hard to recruit from Earth because except for some details of lubrication and temperature extremes the basics are the same. Training them for vacuum safety is a bigger issue. Chao-xing is a nurse. Of necessity she is a nurse practitioner because our doctor went back. We still need a doctor. Better yet a surgeon. I communicated that to Mr. Singh when I agreed to stay." He looked very unhappy, but didn't come to any conclusion or say more. Annette sensed there was much more he wasn't saying though.
"So, It sounds as if we could do without a mechanic easier than a nurse. The rovers may be vital to becoming economically viable but if there is nobody with medical training that's a lack which might put us in personal danger. Right?" Annette asked.
"No," Feng said, surprising her. "Most of what she can do that requires physical presence several others can do who have had emergency medical training. Stitching or gluing a minor wound, dispensing drugs. Many things can be done with telepresense by a physician in which she could assist. However most any of us could do the same with a little coaching. I'd hate to have to intubate someone and even with the best waldos and stereo cameras I'd hate to see a serious operation performed remotely, but I'd have a doc do that remotely before I'd allow Chao-xing to cut me. But the real reason I don't want her around is because she is political." He said the word with distaste. "Politics is what divided her and her husband. Didn't you know?"
"Politics concerns me. The reasons for their break-up didn't. You might say politics is the only reason why I'm here. I'd better hear in some detail how Chao-xing is political. Are you opposed to my sovereign's rule?" Annette asked Chao-xing, directly.
"I am not interested or concerned with your politics," she answered, radiating haughtiness. "When everything gets sorted out back home then it's going to matter a great deal who we supported. And Chinese politics will concern themselves with you and the moon again when they are not distracted. A lot of these traitors will be dealt with then," she said. She gave a significant look around the room, trying to be menacing.
"You, Chao-xing, are banished from the Kingdom of Central," Annette said in a clear loud voice, something that Dakota had shown her was important. "If you show your face back here after your expulsion it will cost your life. However I've decided I can't justify keeping either of you. I will make an exception for you and your ex and promise you both passage clear to ISSII. There is an official Chinese presence there and they can have the joy of you. I won't inflict you on others."
Chao-xing looked even angrier, which surprised Annette. She'd thought her face was already as contorted as was possible. She opened her mouth and then hesitated looking at Annette, as Annette didn't seem angry, or even look interested. It broke Chao-xing's theatrical self righteousness and made her close her mouth back up. "What sort of Chinese?" the woman finally asked, thinking again after a pause. "If they are traitors, there then you are sending me to be arrested or worse."
"I don't know," Annette admitted. "Just as you said, I am not concerned with the details of your politics. I suggest, if you wish them to repatriate you to Earth from ISSII and avoid arrest, try to control your mouth. You'll be unescorted from Home and what you tell them is up to you. If you speak to them as rudely as you did me they may not deny themselves the pleasure of putting you against a wall and shooting you.
"When you agreed to stay here you forfeited your Chinese citizenship but I won't advise them of that. I doubt they'll be aware. I assume you kept your identity documents. Just be happy I didn't shoot you out of hand for treason to Queen Heather. I thought everybody understood that, but I can see the only safe course now is to ask everyone to swear a formal oath to Heather or face expulsion."
"As if I'd swear to obey a barbarian," Chao-xing sneered. "One who sends a woman to govern us."
"Get this woman out of my sight before I do something I regret later," Annette ordered Feng. "Call Central and ask them to send a hopper to take her and Wo away. If there's anybody else who wants a second chance to leave you best go with them now. I won't have any patience with repetitions of this stupidity."
"Come along," Feng told Chao-xing and laid his hand flat on her shoulder. She turned her head and spat in his face.
In low gravity it's hard to get the traction to strike. You tend to bounce apart instead of delivering much force. That's why Feng shifted from a light touch to direct her to a hard grip on her arm. When he struck with his fist he pulled her to the strike with his other hand. She twisted but couldn't get away and the hit was devastating with no block at all.
Annette was shocked. She'd never seen this sort of direct violence before and she was ready to tell Feng to stop even though she had just visualized and spoke of shooting the woman dead herself. That was somehow... different. It was obvious he didn't intend to continue even before she could say anything. He gave a come-here jerk of his head to one of the other observers, and in the low gravity the limp Chao-xing was easy to carry out. 'She asked for it.' was her immediate thought, but it still rattled her. She hadn't seen it coming at all.
The remaining four looked frightened, and she realized they weren't afraid of Feng, they were looking at her fearfully. Then she realized her hand was around the grip of the laser Heather had given her. She didn't remember consciously reaching for it. "That concludes this business for tonight," she told them forcing a frown and turned away before they could read the shock on her face. She couldn't afford to show anything that might be taken as weakness now.
* * *
Full and contented, April wanted something less stressful than reports about Earth. It was always good to keep
track of what was happening locally too, and usually much more understandable. There was an official Mitsubishi web site for the habitat. It announced such corporate news and numbers as was appropriate to a publicly traded company, construction news and changes to services and utilities. Sometimes it noted changes to standards such as the certification of private airlocks, modification to viewports, how much hab supplied water could be retained in residential cubic and what was acceptable in the return discharge. Even what sort of wall coverings met flammability standards. On rare occasions they posted job openings.
What they did not concern themselves with at all was the residents' political or social life. Indeed they always carefully spoke of Mitsubishi 3 and never the political entity of Home. The people had pretty much dropped the distinction between the two in everyday speech unless they were addressing the Assembly of Home in session or supplying an address to an Earthside supplier.
There were a few gossip boards, which April despised, not much different than the same sort on Earth, except the renewal of the duel on Home had created a new level of civility for plain statements and renewed the art of innuendo. Too blunt a slur could result in an invitation to meet in the north corridors before breakfast. In fact, if you didn't know the story already it could be hard to be sure who the boards were talking about.
April was sure at least one of the more pleasant social sites was written by a very young girl by the sort of slang she used and limited subjects. There were a couple boards and newsletters dealing with business. One about onboard manufacturing and one about ship building and construction, with only a little overlap between them.
There was a recent and anonymous board that dealt with adult social issues, much classier than the gossip boards. That's what April was looking at tonight. You could subscribe to just article titles if you wished. April thought she knew who the writer was but had no desire to out her. She'd seen her eat at the nightclub in which April owned a small interest and then a day later there would be a review of that same dish she'd had in the newsletter. There were so few restaurants to review on Home she was going through the menus dish by dish.
President Wiggen had been through enough with the coup in North America and fleeing to Home. She didn't need the nasty comments April was sure she'd get on the gossip boards just because of who she was, even if she avoided local politics, which so far she had. Not even commenting on less sensitive Earth news that didn't involve North America or Home. April was pretty sure the board was Wiggen's.
The title banner to this site simply said "What's Happening" and April noticed there wasn't even a reference to Home on the first page. You had to know something about Home, or recognize some of the names, to even know it wasn't about a small town in North America most of the time. April was surprised one day to see a lengthy obituary. Wiggen posted local announcements free and took small ads for Home businesses and even other habs. Occasionally there was a small banner for Cheesy's, a burger place outside spin on ISSII that April favored.
April had no idea before reading about them that there was a bridge club, an Elks club, and several veterans associations. There were three groups holding regular religious services, a group offering charity and services to those ill or underemployed. Home was expensive. Some new arrivals had spent most of their funds to get to Home and underestimated how much it would cost to live. Fortunately there was a labor shortage and most didn't stay broke. There were just a few who couldn't make a go of it and were forced to return to Earth. For one person a local charity fund bought a ticket home and for another two the Head of Security, Jon Davis, considered the price of a return ticket from his budget a bargain to be rid of them.
There were several announcements of marriages and births, although Mr. Muños always appended those to the minutes of the Assembly, but that could be a wait. The one that caught her eye was, "Benjamin Patsitsas and Martha Wiggen wish to announce to the community that they have wed and are making a life together." Well, that was interesting. Hardly surprising since she hadn't seen one without the other for months. She needed to send some sort of gift. Perhaps one of Lindsey's prints.
April checked her messages looking for something from Barak. His expedition would be starting back from near Jupiter soon with an ice ball. That was the longer part of the trip. This was the second investment group seeking to bring volatiles back. They couldn't talk real-time with the long speed of light lag, but he left messages every three or four days. She missed him more than she expected. He had just been Heather's kid brother for so long and then after he got big enough to be interesting and part of her life on his own – zoom – he took off on this long trip. She hoped he was doing OK.
Chapter 3
The lighting was dim, the disc of the sun noticeably smaller but still too bright to stare at directly. It was sufficient illumination to work once your eyes adjusted. If they had been back at Home the glare off the ice would have required him to drop the polarizing filter and gold coated glare screen that rode clipped back from his clear faceplate. Here he'd only used it once, when he's used it as an expedient welding mask. He'd never welded anything before. It wasn't the first specialized skill he'd had to fake and probably wouldn't be the last. At least they'd requested a short video demonstrating vacuum welding for him to watch first.
The result wasn't anything of which Barak was especially proud. It looked more like a keloidian scar than an even expertly laid weld. He'd laid two more overlapping beads on top of the first line so he was pretty sure it was strong enough, if not pretty. The brace wouldn't have been bent and cracked if his boss, Harold Hanson, hadn't tried to force it into the ice instead of waiting patiently for the heater to do its work. He found he was spending a great deal of his attention anticipating his boss doing something stupid, and staying out of the way so he wouldn't get killed too.
Barak tried to tell Harold to slow down and think through every move working in vacuum, but the man rejected his suggestions and was easily irritated with him. Barak would love to ask April's grandfather what to do. Happy had taught him so much about working in vacuum, and he had years of experience dealing with difficult people too. But Barak didn't want that question on his com stream.
He just couldn't trust the security of com to send such sensitive traffic back and forth to Home. He had memory with some one time encryption pads from Jeff, but they were clearly for an emergency, and he'd have to have Jeff relay the message to April's grandfather and back. He hated feeling he was the green, inexperienced guy. All he could safely do was explain his problem to his friend Deloris in the privacy of his cabin. She hadn't been the least surprised.
"You don't owe Hanson any instruction. He's supposed to be supervising you, not the other way around. If you keep irritating him I predict he'll complain to the captain that you are insubordinate. I know you plan to work for your close friends in the future, but a bad report in your job file may be a problem fifty years from now. You just have no idea what may come back on you, so let it go. You didn't hear it here... but jackasses take care of each other, so if he complains to the captain guess who is going to get the blame? Just... stifle it."
"It's surprising," Barak said. "The man is so meticulous and careful in the lab. Showing me how to help him there he is methodical and cautious. But when we get outside he is anxious to get it done and back inside. I suspect he thinks it is beneath him to do manual labor, but it certainly isn't menial. You'd think he's being asked to wipe down corridor walls and scrub out the toilets."
"Uh huh," was all she said, indicating to him she was done talking about it and had said all she intended to for now. Barak took the hint.
Today they were finishing up anchoring the last ion drive. There were eight of them in a circle around their ship, the Yuki-onna, which was anchored nose first into the center of the circle. Three guy lines from the tail braced it in place. Each engine in the circle had a feed line and controls frozen in a shallow trench radiating from the ship. They were each marked with a sprayed line
of bright yellow paint to make them safer from accidental damage.
Barak pushed the data cable in the frame holding the last motor until it locked with a snap he could feel even with double gloves hands and he tugged on it to make sure it was seated. Lastly Barak inserted the insulated water feed line in the port for it, and twisted it to lock. He'd made sure his camera documented that the port was clean and the line had no ice or debris in the end fitting. A big cotter pin went through the flange to made sure it wouldn't work loose.
He spread and bent the end of the pin over and put the pliers back in the proper clamps, checking that no other tools were missing. Then he folded the tool box closed clipping it to his suit.
"And... done," Barak said. "If they all run smoothly we shouldn't have to come back out here until we are back in the Moon's shadow," he said, satisfied and a little relieved they were done and Harold hadn't busted anything new today.
"They're such simple reliable engines," Harold said. "I'll be surprised if any fail."
That was true, but Harold was far more trusting of equipment than he was. April's grandfather, Happy Lewis, had coached him on working in vacuum back when Jeff and Happy were working on a ship together in the Lewis cubic. Happy didn't trust anything. He always asked, "And what do we do if it fails?" Barak intended to live a long time and keep all his extremities just like Happy.
Harold held on to the post for the safety line that ran back to the ship's lock and kicked it with one boot and then the other. Ice tended to build up on the boots. They were insulated but still warmer than the ice and it melted when compressed. Barak chipped his accumulation off carefully with a screwdriver. It might not be a lethal event, but if the mooring post for the safety line Harold was kicking cracked off and sailed away from being repeatedly kicked it would make it that much riskier to get back to the ship and they'd have to retrieve it and reset it in the ice next to the motor.
April 6: And What Goes Around Page 3
