"She's not going to pin this on me. I know I didn't kill that man. I'd feel terrible if I did but I saw him feel his face and moan and mumble something."
"It should be on the audio you played for us of your conversation with the XO," Alice typed.
"If it isn't clear Yuki-onna should have software to clarify it," Barak added to that text, nodding.
"I kept a copy. I'll find it," Deloris volunteered. She isolated the file and amplified it. They each listened to it with earphones.
"Five words?" Alice asked. "I get 'what' for a first word but that's it.
"I think the second sound is two words slurred together, not a two syllable word, but let's send the file to Yuki-onna and ask for an analysis," Barak said. He and Alice made go ahead gestures to Deloris since it was active and isolated on her machine.
She hesitated. "But how do I make sure Yuki-onna doesn't share this with Charlotte?"
"We could ask the Yuki how," Alice said.
Deloris shook her head no. "Just asking that would look bad if it gets to Dobbs."
"Jeff gave me a pretty good sized block of one time pads before I left – just in case. I suspect this is the sort of thing he had in mind. I can encrypt it on my pad and send it attached to a message. I'm sure he'll process it for me as a favor. If Charlotte sees an encrypted attachment and wants to know what it is I'll just refuse to discuss it. I didn't promise to expose my private mail to their scrutiny when I hired on and it's not like we can be on much worse terms with each other. But we'll have to wait on the light lag both ways and his time to arrange things on that end if I send it to him to run an analysis."
Alice gave an exaggerated shrug. "We aren't going anywhere," she said in helmet talk.
"Anybody have other files with his voice?" Deloris typed. "That would help maybe."
"I have some short snatches on my suit recordings," Barak remembered. "I'll suggest Jeff look for some at Home to verify mine aren't faked since I have motive to do so now. There should be voice files of his getting clearance to depart from local control. Maybe other traffic in the past before the Yuki-onna." He considered how much he wanted to reveal. "Jeff has assets for that sort of thing. He'll find it if he needs it."
"Do it," they both agreed.
* * *
Tonga was really flat. Islands on coral reefs sure looked different than volcanic islands. Gunny had been to Tonga before, but he came in on a boat and he hadn't gotten a good look when they took a shuttle out. This time they were coming in on an aerobraking shuttle and he had a left hand seat so he saw the island pass on the left out his port. They were subsonic already so he had plenty of time to get a good look from above although it was a good twenty kilometers out. Then they had to make a wide slow turn to the north west, almost doubling back to line up with the runway.
Gunny looked at Christian Mackay next to him after they turned and the island was lost from sight ahead of them. He had his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. Gunny wondered if he'd been to Tonga before or he just wasn't curious? Chen chose not to sit with them. He hadn't explained why but he indicated he'd meet them at the hotel, so it wasn't a permanent thing. Maybe he felt there would be watchers at the port. He was a known agent, but the Chinese influence on Tonga had waned years ago and their relationship with Japan was more important now.
There was a solid clunk of landing gear going down and the surface of the ocean looked really close now. You could see the waves. The beach was there suddenly on their left and stretching off to the left and ahead of them. The palm trees and buildings were close enough to see in detail. The nose pitched up a little and the pilot was a real hot dog. He put on the air brakes and threw them forward against the harness just before the tires touched down. Once the front wheel was down he stood on those brakes too.
Maybe he knew what he was doing though. When they turned off to the right there was only one more taxiway between them and the end of the runway. The sign beyond their turn said twenty five hundred meters. He'd used up an awful lot of runway. Certainly two kilometers before he coasted a bit and then engaged the electric wheel motors to turn off and taxi back to the terminal. They passed a couple of carrier aircraft, or motherships, one with a shuttle hanging under it, wheels retracted, and a shuttle sitting alone with mechanics working on it.
There was a site that let vertical lift shuttles depart but it was on a small island away from the capital city and main island. They didn't need the noise and vertical lift shuttles didn't fail very often now, but when they did it was always a lot more exciting than a carrier aircraft that could often turn back on one engine or even glide home. Vertical lifters had no glide capacity in a failure and below about six or seven thousand meters separating the shuttle and getting it into a controlled glide was a very iffy proposition even if the lift vehicle didn't go *BOOM* spectacularly.
The shuttle didn't attach to the building like it would in North America. Instead a bus rolled up and docked to take them to a separate customs building. The connector had a shield that protruded into the airlock to keep them from touching the edge of the hull which would still be hot.
The main terminal building had a sign saying it was Fua'amotu International but they drove right past that. When they reached the smaller customs building they were greeted by an officer with a filter mask and a full face eye shield. The man was wearing a disposable paper jump suit over his uniform and sheer gloves. He held a no contact thermometer and checked their temperature at throat and ear.
"We are aware there is a flu pandemic," Gunny told the man. "We've kept Home isolated. In fact we do a scan for viral DNA at our entry, so it hasn't got loose on Home."
"That's excellent sir. I'm still required to do this for all people making entry. We haven't got a hot case yet from off world, but we're still directed to check. Nothing personal," he added politely.
"Have you had to isolate anybody coming in by conventional aircraft?" Mackay asked.
"Oh certainly! It's out there alright, and we have had a couple planes that we refueled and turned the whole plane away. If it had somebody running a fever we sent for a DNA scanner like your friend here described. If they had the flu we don't have the facilities to isolate the whole plane that has been exposed. We just turn them away."
Gunny didn't say anything more. They were making an effort, or at least a show, but it was futile. Somebody would come in not showing any symptoms because they were in the incubation period. You could ask them to keep checking their temperature and report if they got sick, but history showed that self quarantine just didn't work. People were selfish. It would get in here in time, but at least it wasn't prevalent yet. That was good. They still had a little time to do their job.
The cab was electric and old. It had seats reupholstered with what looked like cloth for an awning, coarse and heavy. The tropical sun had won the battle with the paint years ago and the roof was painted bright white instead of the pale green still visible on the sides. Mackay negotiated them a set price to go north and around the lagoon to the capital. He just said "Little Italy" as a destination. Gunny didn't know if that was the whole district or their specific destination. Mackay booked the flight and made their other reservations, assuring Gunny they didn't want a car, they would have a car and driver if they needed one. Gentleman and people of substance apparently didn't drive themselves. Gunny, entering, made the vehicle drop a couple centimeters.
The traffic was light compared to what Gunny was used to in North America. Lighter vehicles too, electric scooters and mini-trucks that looked like little more than a golf cart with a box on the back. They passed one full sized truck and a police car that was still only a compact sized car with bright lime green accents down the sides for visibility. The road was paved but much patched and the side roads were just graded dirt.
The driver seemed unfriendly at the port and he continued to look in his mirror at them with an odd expression. Gunny couldn't decide if he was angry or frightened. He typed on his pad. "The driver
seems twitchy. You think he might rob us or divert us somewhere?"
Mackay took the pad from him and typed. "He has a hack license so I doubt it. See it up on the visor? That's his face on it so he didn't steal the cab from someone. Ask him what's wrong if you want."
Gunny took the pad back and erased it. Maybe he was too sensitive. But then the cabbie looked at them again still frowning. He decided to try to bring it out in the open.
"You seem unhappy to be driving us. I assure you, we are a good fare and we're not going to cause any problems or try to stiff you as long as you take us to our destination. Is there some other problem?"
"On the radio they accuse spacers of making the bad flu. I don't want to get sick from you. If my boss hears I turned down a fare he might take my cab and rent it to somebody else. I can't take a chance, but I wish I had one of those masks," he said, making a gesture over his mouth.
Gunny laughed so loud the driver jerked, not expecting it. "Don't believe half of what you hear on the radio," Gunny advised him. "So far we don't have this flu on Home, and we're working hard to keep it that way. I'll tell you the straight stuff. What little we know for sure. This started in Italy around Rome. It's in North America and we know it's in China although we don't know how bad there for sure.
"In another two weeks to a month it will be everywhere. They took our temperature at the port. If we'd been sick they'd have turned the whole shuttle back without letting us off. But it takes time to show symptoms. You can get it from somebody and it's maybe four to six days before you feel sick. So that's not going to stop it for long. Somebody will have caught it and not know. They'll feel sick after coming to Tonga."
"So you think another week or two and it will be in Tonga?" the driver asked, worried.
"That's my opinion, yes. I'm not a doctor, but what I said is what people who should know have told me. The Tongan officials would probably kick us out for telling you that, so I'd appreciate it if you don't name us if you repeat it."
The driver nodded solemnly. "I will not do you harm for sharing truth. You speak like someone who believes what they say. Do you have any idea what I should do when it is here?"
"We still don't know how much it is like other flu. It may be related to the mouse flu that came out of Africa a few years ago. A mask may help. But better not to be closed in a car or room with a sick person. And don't touch your nose or your eyes when you have been out until you wash your hands with soap," he suggested.
The driver sighed. "I can't just stop driving. I have nothing else right now and it feeds us. But I'll try to do as you say when I can. Thank you."
Gunny thought about it a bit as they drove along further and reached over the seat. "When you hear a lot of people are sick take this and sell it to carry you awhile. There probably won't be many people hiring a cab by then anyway. If you tell your boss you are too sick to drive when he knows lots of others are sick he won't question it." He offered the man one of the gold rings held between thumb and finger. He didn't have to ask what it was, but he seemed hesitant to take it.
"If you happen to hear anything useful to us we'd appreciate a word at our hotel," Gunny added.
That apparently made him willing to take it. He scared Gunny by how long he turned his head and ignored the road to accept it, but eventually he turned back to driving. "What are you doing here that's worth the risk of you getting the flu? I ask so I'll know what you might want to hear."
"We just want to make sure the things we've bought get lifted to our home. If a lot of people are sick they may not be too worried about unloading the ships and planes and putting the stuff on a shuttle. We don't grow anything up there. We have to buy food and clothing and parts for machines," Gunny said.
"Tonga has to buy food too," the driver told them, "that's another thing to worry about."
"Sell the ring early if you need to," Gunny said. "It's yours now so you decide when is best."
"I believe I shall," he decided. "I suspect it will buy a lot more rice now than in a month."
When they pulled off the road in town at a white three story building Gunny pointed to his license. It stated he was Ata Liava'a and it had his address on it. "May we come find you if we have need of a driver or other work?"
"Yes, but I'm down near Uaini off the Taufa'ahau road. It would be far easier for me to come to you. You can call me." He fiddled with a compact phone and made it display his number to them. Mackay wrote it down on a little notebook instead of entering it in his pad. When he tried to pay for the ride the man waved it away and wouldn't take anything more than the ring.
* * *
The building Ata dropped them off at was an older white three story with porches running the full length of the building. The railings reminded Gunny a little of the buildings in the French Quarter when he'd vacationed in New Orleans. A young fellow in all white hurried out with a luggage cart. Gunny's face must have shown his doubts, because Mackay reassured him even though he hadn't said a word.
"It's older but don't worry, they gutted it and rebuilt it practically from scratch about ten years ago. It's considered a historic treasure and landmark. They have very decent food too."
"That's fine. If the plumbing works, and it doesn't have vermin, it won't be anywhere near the bottom on the list of places I've stayed." He let Mackay check them in and wandered about looking at the lobby and into the restaurant. There didn't appear to be any rooms on the ground floor. It did seem nice and hadn't been ruined by trying to make it ultra-modern. It was traditional Italian right down to the red and white checked table cloths and bright murals on the walls. When they had to take the stairs to the third floor he was surprised. He'd lived in North America so long he'd become accustomed to the idea no business could remodel without installing an elevator and all the other things like special doors and bathroom fixtures for the disabled.
The room had another hand drawn mural the length of the room and a young fellow standing with his bags patiently waiting for him to show up. He declined the fellow's offer to put his things away and to take things to be cleaned or ironed and tipped him for delivering the bags. Mackay showed up at the door between their rooms and leaned on the jam.
"You have an Italian room. Mine is all done in tropical decor."
"I'll switch if you prefer this one," Gunny offered.
"Nah, they're both neat. I like that it isn't uniform corporate beige.
"Where is Chen staying? Or did he make his own arrangements?"
"He's on the other side of me. He'll show up I'm sure when he's finished his business."
Mackay signaled in signs to search for bugs. They would set their own and cache some things if it was clear. Gunny nodded and started but kept up a chatter.
"I'm ready to go try the restaurant if you are game," Gunny suggested.
"Let's do it. I haven't had a decent pizza in months. Not since I was on ISSII."
Gunny thought of telling him the Fox and Hare made a good pizza, but hesitated to say it. He wasn't sure Mackay could afford the membership fee or the prices there. The rooms were electronically clean. They didn't have anything to more do this evening. They were free until they met the Mitsubishi people tomorrow. They could relax and have dinner.
Chapter 12
Jeff was so engrossed with reading reports he didn't hear his com give the more insistent buzz that indicated a priority call until the third or fourth time. The screen indicted it was Annette calling from Camelot, the former Chinese moon colony he'd acquired and placed under Heather's sovereignty. Annette was one of a dozen people who were privileged to interrupt him.
She didn't seem irritated at the delay when he opened the screen. There was just a fraction of a second delay between the image displaying and the shift of her eyes and change of expression that indicated she saw him. It wasn't as big a delay or as irritating as the speed of light lag you experienced speaking from the Moon to Earth, but it still was there if you were paying attention.
"Good evening, my dear. How i
s it going with you?" Jeff asked.
"In most things, the little things, it is going well. I feel I have control here and at least a degree of cooperation. There is still a bit of a cultural divide. I confess I've started trying to learn Chinese and I've concluded that I'm simply not very good at languages."
"Do you speak any other language besides English?" Jeff asked.
"No, just the little phrases anyone picks up from movies and such. Almost all of them were French or Spanish or Italian anyway, not Chinese," Annette said.
"That's fine if you wish to learn it," Jeff said. "However I doubt you'll be at Camelot long enough to become a really fluent speaker. Any language is worth knowing of course, but I don't need you to understand the culture so well you start empathizing with it or worse emulating it. We really intend to impose our own culture on the colony with economic pressure and eventually by diluting it with non-Chinese residents."
Annette was too readable. Her face registered happiness at the idea her stay there would be limited, and surprise at his blunt revelation that he intended to subvert the prevalent culture. People mostly tip-toed around any bias against other's ways of living down on Earth. Condemning another form of government or cultural peculiarity now would bring charges of hate speech, and convictions seemed to constantly grow easier to obtain in both Europe and the Americas. Except spacers. There seemed to be a free pass on hating spacers and their culture.
"You need a better poker face more than Chinese lessons," Jeff told her, grinning. "I'm not sure how to teach that. I'm probably the wrong person to try to teach it too. I've been told by others it's still a weakness I need to address."
"I know. We had a rebellious resident I had to expel. She attacked, well maybe not attacked. She spat in my administrator's face, and he knocked her senseless in front of a crowd. I found my hand on my gun without thinking about it and then noticed I'd scared the snot out of all of them worse than the fight. I can only imagine how my face looked. They all were frozen in terror like they expected me to draw and cut them all down. All I can say is I'm aware of it and working on it."
April 6: And What Goes Around Page 20
