"That's likely your source then, if he was sick," the policeman agreed.
"Is there anything you can do for us? I have the assistant cook mixing a little bit of baking soda and salt in water and keeping mug of it by each of the guys. We read that in the handbook in the first aid kit. We started doing that early this morning, but we got twice as many sick this evening now. It's running us ragged taking care of the sick and nobody went down the hole to work this shift. I know you can't hardly be expected to haul forty guys out of here in the winter and shut the place down. But do you have somebody you can send in? A doc or medic? Or at least drop some medicine? Way this is going, we're going to run out of aspirin and Tylenol even."
"I'll pass the request to the regional hospitals, but the word I'm getting is they have been flooded the last two days and don't have enough people to cover shifts much less send out teams to villages or camps. They have a lot of their own sick. For that matter so do we," the cop said. "Also I was told that this doesn't seem to respond well to the common antivirals. So that wouldn't do you much good either. You might try to isolate the healthy from the sick."
"Kinda hard to do in a bunkhouse," the miner said.
"Yes, I can understand that. I'll ask the health service to call you. You see where the Emergency channel is? Go up to the next channel with a bigger number, and check back in an hour. If nobody is waiting to talk to you try again at six this evening. Can you do that? You feel OK yourself?" The cop finally thought to ask.
"Yeah I can do that. The second cook and I are both fine and we both had the mouse flu a couple years back. Maybe we won't catch it. Thanks for having them call," he said, but he wasn't happy.
"I'm sorry I can't do more. This is FPA Post 317 clearing the channel, out," he ended.
"Wow, I'm picturing those guys. I feel for them. Stuck out there in the sticks, sick."
Jeff seemed sincere. It wasn't something Chen was certain he'd see in him. He'd seen Jeff's side that seemed pretty ruthless and the Earth propaganda painted him a monster. He wondered if Jeff knew?
"That point about the mouse flu might be worth looking into," Chen suggested.
"That it's a related strain? Yeah," Jeff agreed, "we'll find out for sure soon when we get a sample. The USNA is saying it's a common type that went around three years ago. The Europeans are saying it's one from last year. I think they're both flat out lying. The Europeans said it is an A strain but didn't even name a subtype."
"Being vague has the advantage of not making a liar of yourself later," Chen pointed out. "I have a dozen intercepts like this. The point I'm making being it's spread beyond dense urban areas into the countryside. If our agents who have contacts in the hospitals are right then two more incubation periods from now we are going to see a significant disruption of business. It's too early to know for sure, but the three paid agents we have in Italy and San Marino say the early morbidity is high too."
"So we have a week to get some supplies lifted before things get a lot worse?"
"Yes, but a lot of them are in motion already. Bob Lewis ordered all sorts of supplies that are already on ships or in the air freight system. The squeeze will be getting them loaded on shuttles at Tonga and actually lifted. That's why we want to take the 1430 to ISSII and get a connect to Tonga. If we miss that we'll either need a private shuttle or lose fourteen hours until the next flight, which is a double connection, ISSII to New Las Vegas and down. We can't afford to delay that long."
"No, grab the 1430 please. You have a bit more than an hour. I had a few Solars uncommitted I could send with you, but bullion coins are illegal on Tonga. Instead I had eighty gold wedding bands in pure gold made. I haven't picked them up yet, but I'll have a guy from Presto Prototype meet you at the dock with them. They are five grams each and all the same ten and a half size, but you can use them for anything that a little baksheesh will help you accomplish," Jeff said, and made the thumb rubbing gesture.
"We call it zou hou," Chen told him, "but the application is pretty much universal." He frowned and looked serious. "We'll try to return on one of the late supply shuttles, but if we get stuck down there you may be supporting us for awhile. I hope you noticed that clause in our contract."
"If I have to we'll pick you up with Dionysus' Chariot," Jeff promised.
"They may shut down the spaceport and stop all traffic," Chen warned.
"It does water landings. Buy or rent a boat and we'll meet you in international waters. If you can't get a boat," Jeff shrugged, "it wouldn't be the first illegal landing we've done. It doesn't need a hard pad to land either. I don't think Tonga has anti-air weapons. We can worry about apologizing and smoothing it over later if we have to do that."
* * *
The courier delivered a large flat package. Ben and Martha weren't expecting anything, but they thanked the lad and tipped him. They opened the attached envelope to see what it could be,
"I wish you much happiness in your marriage and a long and prosperous life together. I feel Home and all of us benefit from your presence and hope to be counted as a friend and ally by both of you. Please accept this drawing as a wedding and home warming gift." – April Lewis.
None of the drawings for which Lindsey had sketches spoke to April as a gift. So she'd given Lindsey recordings off her spex of Martha and Ben sitting in the Fox and Hare. April remembered a particular moment that had touched her when ex-president Wiggen had laid her hand on Ben Patsitsas' arm. The utterly comfortable way she made the gesture left April feeling sure they were a couple.
Lindsey incorporated that key moment and changed the angle of view subtly from the reality of the club, drawing them in such a way that you could see Ben face on and Martha in semi-profile at his side, yet the stage with musicians counterbalanced them on the opposite side of the sheet and set the scene.
Instead of her usual central area in precise detail and vivid color she had two focal points of detail. The couple at the table and the pair performing on the stage. April had been happy to find Lindsey was flexible enough to alter her style that much.
The rest of the drawing followed her usual style of becoming less photo-realistic and more muted in color as your eye left the primary subjects. So the other diners at their tables and details of the bar and entry faded and lost focus toward the edges to mere pastel shapes suggesting patrons and furnishings in an extreme expressionist style.
They propped the drawing against the wall and sat on the sofa admiring it. There was something else in the envelope and Martha retrieved a memory chip. That was a recording of the pair on stage, Amos of The Ancient Astronauts and Ruby, a onetime professor of Medieval Music. Martha put it on low to play through the com console and sat back by Ben, who put his arm around her.
"She drew you looking straight on," Martha noticed. "You're still quite recognizable. You have strong features."
"It a very natural pose. I'm looking at you," Ben demonstrated, doing so even closer. It turned into a kiss. April would have been delighted at what her gift started.
Chapter 11
Martha Wiggen, previous President of The United States of North America and recently married to Ben Patsitsas joined the line for breakfast in the main cafeteria. Her husband was right behind her and got the silverware and napkins for both of them, as was his set custom already. It was the sort of a little gesture she appreciated him doing. It was a short line and always moved ahead quickly. She was not a natural early riser but they were still in honeymoon mode and even if she delayed him from getting up she then accompanied him to breakfast.
She was the first female, and near the youngest, to break the circle of the coffee brigade which occupied the tables closest to the pots in the cafeteria. The informal group formed years ago and the members changed through the years, but with surprising continuity.
The group started forming each day late in the back shift from insomniacs and grew as retired people and the self employed with no set schedule drifted in. By 0900 early in the main shift it was as lar
ge as it would get that day. By lunch it was dissolved, each going their own way. A few who wandered in worked as they socialized, as Ben often did when he was on a roll with new book. He found the noise and people coming and going stimulating rather than distracting. Others discussed the news, politics and business at length. A few still followed Earth sports out of habit nostalgia or because they bet on the games.
The few who drank coffee and ate but kept one eye on an open pad trading stocks were not active like they were a couple months ago. The markets below were in chaos with some closed and others under restrictions.
The coffee had switched back to liquid concentrate two days ago when the cafeteria ran out of bean coffee due to reduced shuttle traffic. Nobody was going hungry but the shell eggs were used up and dried substituted for scrambled and omelets. Fruit was reconstituted and frozen. Ruby was pushing pancakes and waffles or oatmeal and still had plenty of nuts and raisins to garnish them. She had literally tons of pancake mix. The challenge was going to be making them interesting when people got sick of them. There was still orange juice from concentrate and Martha got some, correctly guessing it was a low priority item and likely to run out before their supply problems improved.
Another couple joined the line behind Ben chatting and put trays on the line. They added items off the hot bar and seemed in a jolly mood. Martha reached back to put butter on Ben's tray and glanced behind at the couple. She jerked in surprise and her mouth fell open. Ben turned his gaze to see what shocked her so. She wasn't normally inclined to such theatrics.
The couple were Asian and middle aged. Altogether unremarkable looking, except the man looked embarrassed or chagrined. Ben's first reaction was to be embarrassed too, by his new wife's treatment of these strangers in public.
"I know you." Martha said. Somehow she made it sound like an accusation.
"Madam President. I didn't mean to startle you so. Perhaps I should wear a bell," he quipped and gave her a smile.
"I've heard you are a very hard cat to bell," she shot back, recovering her composure. "Not to mention you seem to have the proverbial nine lives."
"People make unfounded assumptions," he said with a shrug. "Unfortunately some of them seem to do so because they are hopeful of my demise."
"Then, you know this fellow?" Ben asked, clueless to the reason for the verbal fencing.
"This is the first I've met him in the flesh. I've spoken to him on com. This is the fellow who took April in when she visited Earth. She stayed in his home on Hawaii." Then Wiggen's face changed and she looked unhappy.
"I'm sorry for what happened," she told the man. "You lost your home and were treated very badly. You vanished and nobody knew what had happened. There was nothing effective I could do then and little later. Some thought you and your family had to be dead and April along with you. The agency people though were deeply skeptical and never accepted you were dead. Not even when your yacht was reported lost."
Papa-san waved it away. "I don't blame the loss of my home on you. You had your own troubles with the Patriot Party at that time. In fact the bodyguard you sent April was stifled in using the assets you gave him by the Patriots or we might have weathered that particular assault and left in better order. We couldn't deal with the Chinese and the Patriots. But Hawaii was untenable for someone like me once the Patriots had power, entirely aside from being associated with April or you.
"It seems you were rather difficult to eliminate yourself, Madam President. We just silently slipped away. Your exit was rather spectacular. I have spoken with... acquaintances, and I understand you crossed Washington at less than eight thousand meters altitude at about Mach 7. There are historic buildings they still haven't repaired and it took to the middle of the next summer just to fix all the busted water mains."
"Yes, the pilot Jeff sent to pick us up was insane. It was an experience," Wiggen said, rolling her eyes. "On the other hand we are here because they couldn't shoot him down. Not for lack of trying."
"Does the gentleman have a name?" Ben inquired again gently.
"Oh, uh... " Martha looked stricken. "I'm sorry, what stuck in my head is April said you preferred Illustrious Lord or Benevolent Master in your home, but would answer to Papa-san. You have to admit that would be pretty hard to forget, but it pushed your real name straight out of my mind."
"Papa-san is still entirely acceptable," he said, amused. "But if you should have need we are Tetsu and Lin Santos."
"Santos! Of course. Although my spies said it in hushed tones like you were the Lord of Darkness."
"Spies?" Ben asked, pausing with his syrup in the air as if it was forgotten.
"Big time," Martha confirmed. "But he worked for us or I wouldn't be so chatty."
"And gratefully retired now," Papa-san assured her firmly.
"Would you join us?" Ben invited. "I'd love to talk to you about a book I've outlined. I've been a writer of mysteries and I have this itch to write a spy thriller. They're really not so different."
Martha and Lin looked around the men at each other. They looked resigned.
"If you like. I'm afraid the day to day business of spying is much less exciting than people think. The irritating thing about it is how hard it is to convince everyone you have retired. They keep asking you things as if you still have all the assets of an agency working for you and dropping little confidences you now have no use for at all."
"But surely you still know others who aren't retired yet," Ben said. He picked up his tray and led the way to a table.
"Yes, but it isn't like working in a bank or something. You don't keep playing golf with the board after you've been put out to pasture, or ask them over to do something on the barbie." His face suddenly shifted. "Except this one crazy fellow I know. He'd make a wonderful character in a book. His name is Jan, and everybody here knows he's a spy. Jon and Eddie who worked for him and Jeff and April and all the people involved in the Home revolution. They probably all have stories if you ask. You'd just need to change his name for the world at large. Let me tell you about one time when he crashed a party," Papa-san started...
* * *
"The hand is definitely better," Barak told them, pecking the message out with that hand as if to prove the point. He could touch the finger tips to the heel of his hand but couldn't really make a tight fist. It didn't hurt unless he pushed it like that. He could probably suit up and work if he had too. Their tools to use in a suit all tended to have bulky handles he could grip sufficiently.
Charlotte had declared two full days of no duty beyond basic maintenance in a brief text with no explanation. None of them had seen the XO, not even in the galley, which almost certainly meant she was monitoring and avoiding them. She hadn't asked any help caring for Captain Jaabir, or kept them updated on his condition. With the issue of Barak's hand and her insane accusations they were just as happy to let things slide and not risk upsetting her anew.
Barak was dreading hearing from Jaabir when he could resume duty. He had no idea what the man would remember of the encounter in the corridor, or if he'd start the accusations about Hanson all over again. God only knows what Charlotte would report had happened between them. He'd have to be very careful what he said until he was sure just how much the man remembered.
When she finally did send them a text all three of them were in Barak's cabin. Their coms all buzzed at the same time.
All crew,
Normal operations will resume tomorrow. We shall test each engine in turn for function and if adjustments or repairs must be made Deloris Wrigley will accompany Barak Anderson on extravehicular duty. Anderson and Wrigley will stand ready to suit up if testing reveals a problem. Alice Evans will continue to maintain environmental systems and assist me if I should need it. Operations will resume the usual schedule at the 0600 hr.
Charlotte Dobbs, Acting Captain
They all looked at each other alarmed. Did she really intend to not say a word about the Captain? Was Jaabir unable to resume command? Or was there a po
wer struggle with her refusing to relinquish command back to him? Had he tried to push blame off on her?
"Who should ask?" Deloris said in helmet talk. Alice raised her hand to designate herself. She tapped the message in her com and didn't copy to Deloris or Barak. They just leaned in to watch her screen.
Charlotte Dobbs, Acting Captain
Is Captain Jaabir still incapacitated? Is there anything additional I can do to help?
Alice Evans, Environmental Officer
They waited for an answer. Charlotte's brief, curt and unenlightening message seemed beyond odd. They were all starting to worry if she had gone unbalanced with this behavior on top of the insane accusations against Barak of somehow causing Harold's death. Nobody had said as much yet but they all looked worried.
Alice Evans, EO
Captain Jaabir is deceased. He never regained consciousness. Our sponsors have been notified. You will undoubtedly have to shoulder extra responsibilities Ms. Evans, but what those will have to be I'll determine as we resume operations shorthanded.
Charlotte Dobbs, Acting Captain
"Stop!*Don't*ask*anymore," Deloris said emphatically in helmet talk.
"Agreed," Barak said quickly. He looked at both of them and entered text on his pad. "He was alive. He reached up and touched his face and said something. I'm not sure what, but it was words not a moan like he made before that. I'm sure."
"My God, there's no way she can expect us to believe that." Alice looked physically ill. "Do you remember what Deloris said?"
"Uh, no. I'm not sure what you're talking about," Barak admitted.
"She said – "I see no advantage to her from his regaining consciousness."
They all sat silently for a moment thinking about what that implied. Barak almost snatched the tablet back and punched his message in with stiff angry fingers.
April 6: And What Goes Around Page 19
