Family Law

by Mackey Chandler

  The hotelier pursed his lips and considered it. "I applaud your directness. I doubt the North Americans will know what to make of it however. It's simply not how high end politics is done in their culture. They may find it insulting to be stripped of all their little symbols of power. It is not unusual for Earth negotiators to spend days, arguing about what shape of table they will meet around that doesn't give a psychological advantage to the other side."

  "They may find we have gone home rather than deal with such foolishness, if they try that with us," the first Mum told him. The others nodded agreement behind her.

  "There are so many rooms occupied by Derf right now, both here and in the other hotels, that I assumed you had a large contingent with you to play the game," he said.

  "I say this with all seriousness," the third Mum spoke to him from behind her leader. "You put your guests and your establishment at risk, if you discuss any details of your guests, Derf or Earthies while this meeting is going on. Even something as seemingly innocent as this chatter about occupancy levels. Besides all these people you named, there is a very real possibility of assassins and spies being present," she told him.

  "Or worse," the first Mother added.

  That alarmed the man. He wasn't sure what could be worse and didn't want to ask.

  "I take your point. I shall endeavor to be more discreet and give the staff extra instructions to avoid any casual talk, no matter how innocent it may seem."

  * * *

  "Fargone Control, this is the USNA freighter Hudson Bay, dock sixteen. We object to you docking an armed vessel at war with us. You put us at risk of being seized. We are afraid to leave dock with a vessel here that can follow and overtake us after we jump and capture us in another system. Are you prepared to protect us?"

  "Hudson Bay, we anticipate no conflict in Fargone system. So far every act of aggression in our jurisdiction has been initiated by USNA forces. We have just sent an envoy to Earth to complain formally about this very thing. We will enforce a no fire zone in the Fargone control volume. Once you leave our control area I suggest you appeal to USNA military forces or allies to insure your safety. I'd add that the Heavy Cruiser Retribution you are referencing has asked for long term dockage. Perhaps you should expedite your departure, to be well before his."

  "Roger Fargone Control, we shall report this," he warned. The message that he was welcome to leave, was as much in the tone of delivery as the actual words.

  "Oh, boo hoo, he's going to tell," Gordon said. But he didn't key his mic.

  * * *

  "I'm Helen Cooper, the advance agent for the USNA State Department," she laid down identification on the counter. Two gentlemen that came in with her sat apart in the lobby. "The chartered liner, Holiday Lights, is about three days behind me. I have a letter of credit and wish to secure accommodations for our team. I understand the government of Red Tree is going to be staying at this hotel. It would simplify matters if we can accommodate as many of our most important officials as possible in the same facility. We also want to rent a hall of some sort for a negotiating venue. What are you able to provide?"

  "Madam, we have thirty-eight rooms open for an extended period of time. Others have current tenants, or are reserved to the near future. That is not even allowing any reserve as we usually do, for unexpectedly larger parties, or some issue making a suite unusable. You should know the Government of Red Tree has already reserved a conference room for your meetings."

  "I'm sure the Secretary will want to have control of the rooms in which we meet, for security reasons if nothing else. What is the largest facility you have available?"

  "The Grand Ballroom is the largest cubic available on station. It will seat eight-hundred as an entertainment venue, with seating for two hundred at tables when used for banquets. If my lady wishes to reserve it, I shall make it available for as long as you wish. It rents for two and seven tenths of a Troy ounce Au daily, plus charges for set up and fixture rental, in advance. I suggest you present your letter of credit to any of the three interstellar banks on station. We are unable to negotiate credit instruments, but none of them should have any difficulty at all."

  "Then the Derf didn't rent the biggest room they could get?" the woman asked puzzled. "What facility did they reserve?" she asked.

  "If you wish I'll leave a message for the Red Tree clan, to inquire about that. I'd be happy to forward it, or to connect you by com if you wish to call them directly. I'm certain they would be happy to discuss it with you. If I may suggest ma'am, it would be better not to refer to them collectively as the Derf. The other clans value a distinct identity."

  "You don't seem particularly friendly to our needs," Helen said frowning. "I didn't expect that from a human."

  "I'm a hospitality professional, Ms. Cooper. I will certainly attempt to be agreeable whenever possible and see to your every legitimate need. However, racial camaraderie does not enter into this equation. I need to jealously preserve the privacy of both your delegation and the Red Tree faction as a basic service," he explained. "I am also a citizen of Derfhome, working for a Derfhome based business and would consider questions about my other guests' rooms or custom a breach of their privacy. I'm sure that wasn't your intent."

  "Hmm. Perhaps I should speak to some other hotelier," she said. "Thirty-eight rooms would barely house our primary delegates, without any security or support people."

  "If you wish to use one of our com booths across the lobby, the public net will display all the hotel and rental options on station. There are five firms offering rooms and suites on station, as well as long term rentals and cubic for sale. There are also guild facilities, not open to outsiders that may accept your spacers and hot slots which are bunks by the hour with a small security locker. I assumed those were not of interest. We maintain a very active watch and test the booths and lobby on a random but frequent basis, so you may trust your privacy using them," he offered.

  "Thank you, I shall," she accepted and marched across to one.

  She was back in a half hour, angry and rattled. "There are one hundred and seventeen available rooms in this can, including yours. I also rented three apartments on a one year minimum lease and bought a luxury apartment outright at a price that would buy a full floor penthouse condo in New York. I still have sixty-seven people for who I am directly responsible to secure accommodations and nowhere to put them. Do you have any suggestions?"

  "Station cubic is always expensive," Estes agreed. "However you should recoup your investment if you are careful. Five possibilities come to mind. You could require some to stay aboard the liner. Docked their gravity will be a little high, but nothing oppressive. It certainly is not hardship accommodations. You could force some to double up. If you wish to send some of them down to the planet, there should be no problem absorbing them in the available facilities. Or you might determine which personnel are redundant and send them back instead of holding the liner," he suggested.

  "Nobody is going to want to be shuffled off away from the action."

  "Perhaps you could suggest some of the junior staff be sent down to look into establishing a real embassy. There isn't one on Derfhome you know."

  "But there is no real need for one either," she insisted.

  "When has that stopped them anywhere else?" he asked rhetorically.

  "It's worth a try," she agreed. "Wait, that's four. Didn't you say you have five ideas?"

  "Yes, or you could use the meeting facilities Red Tree reserved and divide the Grand Ball room into barracks, bunks and cubicles for security and the lower ranks of your people."

  "You have fixtures and furnishings to make that happen?"

  "No, but with adequate funding I can have them fabricated and lifted in three days. If I may suggest, why don't you visit one of the banks this shift, so I can put a hold on those rooms for you and set the other in motion if you should decide it is suitable?"

  "I have ten Maples on me," she offered. Will that hold our rooms for tonight at least a
nd we'll make local credit arrangements tomorrow?"

  "That's fine. We'll take the equivalent in discounted Ceres currency also," he offered.

  "Then show us a suite please. I've been cramped in a courier for fourteen days."

  * * *

  Lee and Clare walked down the beach. The pilot of their rented air car was firmly told to stay in sight of the vehicle, because they would be shooting. Jesus and Diana hung back far enough to give them some privacy, but close enough to protect them.

  The island was uninhabited and far enough from the mainland they didn't have to worry about range. It also would not have any of the larger carnivores they might run into on the mainland. Indeed it had little vegetation. However they had been warned not to go in the surf even knee deep in these waters.

  The Fargone sky was blue, but a pale robin eggs blue that bothered Clare and they wore floppy hats and spex for protection and took pills to protect their skin and hearing. Lee had round targets on push sticks to poke in the sand. She still had the nine millimeter Jesus gave her and a four millimeter hyper-velocity pistol for Clare in a carry bag with ammo and water.

  They poked four of the targets in the sand down near the water and retreated up by the high tide line. That was about 30 meters, because Fargone had a big moon. Jesus and Diana sat up higher near the base of the dunes. The girls sat on the sand and went through the safety issues again and then Lee let Clare load up. She talked about the sight picture and control and showed Clare how to use her knee as a steady rest. Clare hit the head sized target with about half of the first magazine of thirty-six, but they were spread all over like a shotgun blast.

  "Don't get tired," Lee admonished her. "You'll get all shaky and do much worse. Take a break and let me try a bit." She took her new bigger gun out and fired slow and methodically. The recoil was a bit more than she liked, but she wasn't going to admit that to Clare.

  "Man it's hot," Clare complained and peeled her shirt off and laid it on the sand to sit on. That seemed a good idea so Lee did the same and her shorts too. They were all friends and nobody else would be out here.

  Lee had always been free to be nude with her family growing up. The ship ran hot or cool in different sections, depending on whether the environmental systems were shedding heat or adding it. Clothing had been a problem when she was born on ship unplanned and they only had minor repair items for sewing.

  She'd spent a lot of time in bath towel sarongs, pinned up t-shirts and homemade flip-flops until she was almost four and they returned to a civilized world where they stocked up on real clothing and shoes that anticipated her growth for the next few years. They now viewed safety pins as a much more valuable tool to stock than before.

  "I'll put some fresh targets up," Lee informed her. "Be safe with that pistol now, when I'm out in front of you."

  When she came back she encouraged Clare to shoot standing with a double handed grip extended in front of her. Clare kicked off her shorts and sandals and stood in the sun naked but for hat, spex and pistol. She stood knees locked in a wide stance and tensed up to fire, belly and buttocks tight and pumped rounds into the target. Clare was definitely more mature than Lee, if less athletic.

  Behind them Diana took a video of her bucking the recoil with her com pad. "Something pleasant there for you too?" Jesus asked her, surprised.

  "No, I don't go that way, but I grabbed it for you since you are too polite to do it for yourself. You should stop biting your thumb," she suggested.

  "Ah, yeah," he agreed, pulling it out of his mouth and inspecting it. "I was raised on European beaches, so this is pretty tame," he insisted, despite the thumb chewing. "When we were about fourteen most of us went through a phase where thought we wanted to be lifeguards, until reality dawned on us that it paid crap and couldn't be a life-long career. But if you had ever told me I'd be paid this kind of money to sit on an exotic off world beach and watch cute teenagers cavort in the sun and shoot pistols into the surf, I'd have called you a liar."

  "A mercenary's life is hard, but somebody has to do it," she agreed.

  * * *

  Sharp Claws transited Survey System 418 without slowing down. She needed her fuel to slow in a system where she could purchase more. 418 had no human presence as far as they could tell. There was nothing exceptional about it. No resources that could not be mined cheaper elsewhere and no direct jump to Earth at normal velocities.

  They transited the system with a small vector change to Survey System 713, otherwise known as Gilead. It was a private colony of religious nature. Totally space based with no habitable planet but lots of accessible resources. They were restricted for immigration, but open to trade. They could fuel up in the outer system.

  "Gilead control, this is the nation of Red Tree vessel Sharp Claws. We would like to buy fuel and then transit your system and exit. Would you tell us where we can tank up please?" They put Fred Pierson on the com for a human face not knowing if there would be some difficulty with Derf. Sometimes the more religious cultures were less comfortable with aliens.

  "Sharp Claws that was some entry. I've never seen a manned vessel come in on the Earth vector through 418, just message drones. You have some legs there. We have three sources of fuel you can ask for quotes. I'm marking them on the plot. When it updates you'll see them. Can we expect other traffic on that vector now?"

  "Probably not Gilead. We needed auxiliary tanks to get that much velocity and this ship is fast running on just the internals. But it was exciting to do at least once."

  "Are you aware you are not transmitting a data dump offer?" Gilead Control asked. "We have a three day gap on market data and news if you have any for sale."

  "We have sixteen day old Fargone data if there is a market for it, but no Earth data," Fred told him. "The nation of Red Tree is at a state of war with the USNA, so we hardly lingered in Sol system or acquired trade goods, even data."

  "Ha! Then you guys are pretty bold to cut through where all the USNA warships are parked. Even if they can't follow that spectacular jump I'd have been mighty nervous doing that transit at any speed. Like a mouse running through where the cat sleeps."

  "You have no idea guy. I'm sure you will get a report in the next message drone."

  Mouse indeed, he thought to himself. The cat just had a rude awakening.

  * * *

  The second son by life contract of the four-hundred seventy-fourth First Mother of Red Tree – Garrett - Champion of the Chain-Bound Lands, stood easy in the corridor, guarding the entrance to the conference room his clan rented. His was mainly a ceremonial presence and he wore a light set of historic armor in transparent scarlet enamel over hand engraved bronze armor. It was the ceremonial Derf equivalent of a British soldier in a tall bearskin hat, or an Italian in his feathered hat with spats and gloves. He was the new Champion of Red Tree and as long as they rented it he considered the room Red Tree territory and his presence demonstrated that.

  The actual guarding was by a single Derf soldier inside the conference room and in each of the rooms sharing a bulkhead with that room, four other rooms beside the corridor. The opposite side was to vacuum. Those Derf were in modern battle dress, with armor and weapons with reduced charges and frangible projectiles. They also had an alloy steel ax with a composite handle.

  Garrett had a bronze ax with a wooden handle, covered with engravings that noted the historic occasions of its use. It was also mildly radioactive right now, but that would pass with time of a scale the ax had already endured. He didn't intend to sleep with it against him and he might skip cooking on it as had been done from time to time.

  His great uncle William trained him to the job, but his Mother had still laid it before him as a choice when William died. Not many clan Derf were given a choice about their occupation, but a Champion had to be whole hearted about his duties. If however he had refused the great honor, he would have left the clan and sought his fortune elsewhere.

  William had taught him everything he could, but his legacy was a
huge one to step into. Not many Champions died in their old age and none taking an entire company of Space Marines with them as an honor guard to the shadow lands. He was mainly intent on not screwing up. The more so when he was told he had two nuclear weapons for which he was personally responsible.

  A human came down the corridor wearing a jumpsuit with data spex and a tool box following him like a dog at heel. He glanced at Garrett in passing, but didn't speak or even nod. He went down to the next door, which was a next to the conference room and produced a key.

  "Hold there!" Garrett called out. He keyed his mic and told the guards there was an entry attempt as he approached. The fellow didn't turn away from the door or acknowledge him, until he got very close.

  "I have to inspect the fire suppression system, guy. Ninety day mandatory look-see and the last day is tomorrow," he insisted.

  "These rooms are off limits until we leave them," Garrett informed him, hand on ax. "They are Red Tree territory. Send the hotel manager to me and my Mothers if there is need. We will have to have other rooms that can be held secure, if these are entered."

  "God save us from little tin soldiers," the man muttered. There was something different about his speech. He raised a small black box and Garrett at first thought he was lifting a com to his lips, but it turned into an aiming motion. He was painfully slow. Garrett drew his ax and backhand swatted the hand and device away with the flat of the blade. It made a muffled pneumatic sound and something it expelled rattled against the corridor wall.

  The man should have been startled or afraid, but instead he tried to step closer. Pressing in on a Derf who had just drawn his ax back was not a good idea. Garrett sensed danger and reversed the stroke, leaning into it with the strength that fear brings. The blade caught him right at the base of the neck and passed down through his torso, exiting above the hip bone on the opposite side. The man simply fell in two pieces with a surprised look on his face.