"That seems most unlikely."
"I agree and I'm trained to be a professional paranoid. We expect the majority of those weapons were lost, when the Home people wiped out the rover force sent out to retrieve the personnel who left Armstrong without permission. Having only four RPGs I'd be shocked if they didn't take them all. But I'd be equally shocked and surprised if they didn't leave a few pistols to keep the rest of their people in line."
"What do you propose to do then?"
"Use our force to approach that larger building. It has antennas recently mounted on it so it must be the replacement for the field dome that was destroyed. We are armored up and pretty much immune to small arms. Let us secure the building and we'll bring you in when we are sure nobody is going to assault you," Carlson suggested.
"Very well. I can see that is your function. Just don't be too quick to resort to shooting. I'm here to tell them what the new arrangement is. If talking will resolve it, I'd like to talk. That's my function."
"I'll avoid conflict, if at all possible," Carlson assured him.
"Proceed then Lieutenant."
Carlson took four men, armored up, with carbines to approach the building. To look less aggressive, he had them sling the carbines on their back rather than carry them at the ready. He left a trooper aboard suited up and sealed, except his faceplate and left two men with heavier weapons outside, to guard the ship. He checked again with the pilot before leaving the lock, but there was no radio communications on standard ship or suit frequencies.
The big building had a lock facing the field and paved parking marked off, but no rovers parked next to it. Loose regolith thrown from the crater was shoveled away from around the lock and a path to pavement, but along the wall it was still piled at the base. Nobody had started to back fill the big hole yet or repair the landing surface. Next to the lock was a small sign indicating it was temporary field control and communications, just as they had suspected. When he pushed the illuminated square that should have opened the lock, nothing happened.
Carlson dug in one of the many small pockets along the inside of his arm. He extracted a patch cord, plugging it in the back of his right hand and inserted the jack in the port alongside the lock controls. "Hello, in there. Is anyone monitoring the intercom?"
"Yes indeed and we see you on camera Lieutenant. I'm Jesse Silverson. I'm the current Armstrong administrator given the removal of the others."
"We are the security detail for Administrator Hartug, who is present on our vessel. We want to inspect the facilities and determine no threat exists to him, before we bring him in pressure to speak with you. I'd urge you to put any weapons in the arms locker and secure it locked before we bring him in. He is acting on orders direct from the President. I've read them myself."
"And what does he intend to do with us?"
"You best discuss that with him. I'm merely charged with keeping him safe. I don't speak for the man at all. Now will you unlock the controls here and allow us to inspect the administrative spaces?"
"No, I don't believe we want to do that," Silverson said, still polite. "We are aware the previous administrator removed was imprisoned and we still have no idea what charges he may face, but we are very aware he is being charged before the World Court even if no charges materialize before the USNA courts. Why should we submit ourselves to the same indefinite detainment and uncertain charges? You do intend to arrest us don't you?"
"I have no orders to arrest anyone. I'd expect that would depend on what you agree to do when you speak with Administrator Hartug. I'd only expect that if you were defiant and refuse to start accepting orders from President Wiggen. But locking us out is not a good start."
"And yet we have that World Court case hanging over us still. I don't hear anyone denying its validity. I don't see how you can refuse to eventually arrest us, if you are delivering acting director Crawford up to the Europeans. The four sub-directors and three of our subordinates, all feel they will be betrayed. So we dare not submit."
"Be realistic. Your position is not tenable. You know we had to set aside your delivery of supplies to use the Pagosa Springs, so you are already behind on supplies and you are not self sufficient. If you defy us long enough we will set charges on the door and let ourselves in."
"That would be a public relations nightmare," Silverson warned. "Do you really want to be responsible for a massacre?"
"What exactly are you saying? You can suit up and we certainly wouldn't surprise you. You can't do my guys much damage with small arms. We're armored up. Are you threatening mass suicide?"
"If it was just we seven holed up here, yes. However, we have everyone gathered here. The entire of Armstrong. We did not however, allow them to keep their suits on. I fear by the time you force entry and come in, it will be far too late to sort them out and get everyone in gear."
"I have to talk to Mr. Hartug about that. I'll be back to you."
"You do that. We'll be right here."
Carlson considered using his radio, but they could listen in. "Fan out and keep a watch. Don't fire unless fired upon. I'll be right back."
It wasn't far to the ship. Seeing him returning Hartug was waiting inside the lock.
"They've taken hostages."
"Who are they?"
"I spoke to Jesse Silverson. He claimed to speak for all four directors who had administrative responsibilities. Also three of their underlings who have decided they cooperated sufficiently that they will be considered guilty too."
"Guilty? Nobody has charged them with a crime."
"No, but come on sir. They have net access and know their previous boss is sitting in prison after he was recalled, charges or no. It doesn't take much thinking on it, to see themselves joining him easily, they are aware of the international charges even if we have not charged them. None of them believe you are going to give them a stern talking to and go away. I certainly never thought that either."
"Well this complicates things, that everyone has already decided what I shall do. Do you think they have the will to actually harm people they have lived and worked with long term?"
"Well like you said, the talking part is up to you. I came back without getting into any deep discussion with Director Silverson. I only spoke on audio com with him and you lose a lot not seeing a person face to face. He sounded disturbingly calm though. He indicated the hostages are all unsuited, so that if we blow pressure to get in they die."
"And what are their demands?"
"He didn't make any demands."
Hartug looked surprised for the first time. "That's bad. That's usually the first thing they announce and loudly. Perhaps it's time to let me speak to them. Don't you think?"
"That's why I came back," Carlson agreed. "You might try the radio. If they will speak to you on com, there's no need to go jack in at the lock like I did and expose yourself."
"I'll do that. Why don't you pull your men back, to create a less tense situation and I'll try speaking to them in about a half hour. I'd like to consult with some hostage negotiation experts at State and have a meal and make myself presentable before calling them."
"And let them sweat a little bit?"
"Perhaps that too."
* * *
The shuttle ride wasn't everything Eric expected. The motors didn't exactly roar and shake the vehicle wildly. It was more an oppressive hum and the vibration just made his nose tickle funny. The only person visibly terrified was his mother and she wasn't really any worse than when their dad took the car off automatic to take them to their grandpa's beach house.
Indeed most of the people looked bored. The fellow across the aisle from them had belted in immediately, promptly going to sleep and not stirred the least for the takeoff or transition to free flight and rockets. The G forces hadn't been exactly crushing, but it was hard to imagine ever being so blasé about it you slept with your mouth hanging open, snoring through the whole thing.
His sister Lindsy pressed her lips in a thin disapproving lin
e and glared at the man in perfect imitation of their mother when he stumbled aboard. Erin recognized the condition because he'd seen it in his uncle Mat on several occasions. His uncle Mat explained it was from too much fun. The funny solvent odor about him confirmed it was the same malady.
The motor cut off sharply and the cushions under him expanded back until the belts were snug again. His sister Lindsy made her squeaky mouse sound. He ignored it because she was always being dramatic about nothing. He looked however at the next noise. She had the bag from the seatback over her face and was gagging. They didn't allow them any breakfast so she couldn't have much of anything to bring up, but she kept trying a long time.
He'd taken the pill they'd offered, but he'd bet anything his sister hadn't, or had faked taking it and spit it out. She simply hated anybody telling her what to do. If he told her she had to breathe she'd probably pass out trying to prove him wrong.
His mother looked back between the seats ahead of them and demanded he help his sister. But when he asked exactly what she suggested he do, she had no idea. It seemed a very personal endeavor and if he expressed support he expected from long experience it would be taken badly.
The few pushes and bumps to get them docked didn't seem to help Lindsy. The opposite, really. When they docked a crew member came back and suggested she switch to a fresh bag and removed the old one. Then another towed her out behind the family, like a big party balloon.
The station was really interesting, but they sort of rushed through with Lindsy moaning and she had her eyes clamped shut so she missed everything. The crewwoman handed Lindsy off to a station security guy, who handled her for them all the way to the elevator. They had enough trouble moving themselves, but he ducked back out of the elevator and assured them she'd have some weight pretty soon.
The guy was right, they had enough weight to stand soon enough, but he obviously didn't know Lindsy and the high drama she'd likely display for days. She acted frail. You'd think she'd been shot or something. He'd have liked to slap some sense into her, but she had twenty kilos on him and he had a scar from the last time they fought and she bit him.
His father would have let her crawl on the floor, before he'd allow her to hang on him, so his mother ended up with her draped all limp on her shoulder all the way to the Holiday Inn. The manager was so alarmed at her act he asked if they needed directions to the infirmary. His own inquiry if they had a mental facility was probably a mistake he'd pay for later, but worth it.
Everybody was hungry because they made you board without breakfast. Fortunately the cafeteria was nearby and they got ready to go over there. His mom called the front desk and asked if they had someone to sit his sister Lindsy. If she suddenly was well enough to go to dinner it would spoil her act. She knew her mom would bring her something anyway. The man looked at her out of the screen with a funny expression. "Is that the girl you just had in the lobby?" he asked.
"Yes the blond girl."
"Excuse me, but is she mentally or physically challenged that she has special needs?" he asked, confused.
"No," his mom said, irritated, "but she is sixteen. We follow the letter of the law and won't leave her alone until she is eighteen."
"Ms. Pennington, there is a nursery on this level for children to sleep over at full G. They might accept her for a part shift, if you'd care to call. The facility is mostly for sleeping however. As far as the law, there is no such law on Home. You will find that there is very little legal custom carried over from North American law to Home. Most folks on home regard a sixteen year old, or even younger, as safe to leave alone if they are not impaired in some way. Do what you feel correct, but the hotel doesn't offer sitting services."
"Very well, we'll figure something out," she said and disconnected with a sigh.
"Dare we leave her here, or will she flood the place before we return?" she asked her husband. Eric apparently didn't need to remind them of the plugged toilet incident. She kept flushing it until the water coming down the stairs had alerted them to a problem. It had been too embarrassing to come tell them about it getting plugged up, because it involved bodily functions, but somehow flooding the upper level until it ran downstairs hadn't embarrassed her at all.
She'd been fourteen then it was true, he bit his lip and kept silent. Somehow the fact he never flooded the place or set the cat on fire, or used their dad's work phone to download slash never earned him any credit. In fact some days it appeared to him being a mess and a hazard got you more favorable attention than acting sane.
"The toilet looks to be powered," his dad pointed out. "They seem to have some pretty good engineering here ," he said, pointing out the Do Not Cover warning by the air intake high on the wall and visible sensors. "I'm going to go eat dinner. If Lindsy needs to lay here and pine and moan, she can do so without my help. If you want to stay here hungry and pat her hand and reward her for that 'I'm a delicate little flower crap' go right ahead. I told you a year ago I was done with that and I meant it."
"We could leave Eric with her," his mom considered tentatively.
"Eric is fourteen," his dad pointed out, angry. "If you are leaving the fourteen year old with the sixteen year old, because he has better sense, something is mighty screwed up."
"Well he's a boy," his mom gave tentatively as an excuse. Missing what an insult that was.
"I refuse to sit her anyway," Eric informed her. "If you leave me here I'll walk out after you leave and try to find my own dinner. I'm hungry too, you know. She ignores me anyway. If I told her stay out of the refrigerator she'd be in the hotel booze before you got back, just to show me she doesn't have to listen to me."
"Oh my God! They leave alcohol unlocked, where children might get in it?" His mom looked in the refrigerator as Eric already had and was horrified. "Mo, put all this all in a bag and take it to the front desk. and tell them how upset I am they'd leave such a hazard in the room!"
"Bring it along yourself if you want," her husband said. He had fresh socks on and was tying his sneakers back up. "Eric and I are going to dinner." He gave Eric a wink on the side she couldn't see and got up. His wife scrambled to get the beer, wine and tiny single-serving booze bottles in a ice bucket.
"You stay here," she ordered her daughter. "You may watch video, but no trying to access adult channels. and no use of the com to call your friends. You can text and visit your usual sites if you wish, but I'm going to inspect your log when we get back. Understand?" she asked.
That got a sullen nod that wasn't real agreement. But Eric was in the corridor and her husband going out the door so she hurried after them.
The desk man accepted the alcohol rather indifferently. "Ma'am there are coathangers and bedding in the room too. If she is determined, she can find something to harm herself. I just want to point that out, given your apparent low expectations. We are not responsible for people at special risk. We don't rent any padded cells," he said bluntly. Eric give him a wink and was pleased the man had almost no reaction, just a twitch of the eyes. The fellow picked up on what a danger his sister was earlier than most.
"No, no it isn't that sort of a problem at all," Linda denied. "She's a normal teenager, just a little high strung and sheltered," she asserted. "She'll be fine."
Eric hoped for his sake the man got that disclaimer on the surveillance recordings.
Chapter 19
"Hello? Director Silverson? This is Administrator Hartug on the spacecraft. Could we establish a link and conference on com?"
"This is Jesse Silverson. What would you like to tell us?" he invited. This was awkward. Terrorists usually are quick to speak and slow to listen, but he kept putting the burden of the dialog back on him.
"Could we have video too please, so we can effectively speak face to face?"
"No, I don't think so. You will have the best software to detect any slight doubt or hesitation on my part. I can chop off the dynamic range of my voice and we are dealing with our bare words and not playing games guessing each other'
s veracity. I like that better."
"Very well. What exactly do your propose to end this impasse?
"Oh that," Silverson replied, like they might discuss the latest Cubs game. "We had in mind we vacate Armstrong and allow you to install whatever new administration pleases you, but we have no desire to go back home in cuffs and spend the rest of our lives in courtrooms and prisons. Look at the plus side, you avoid the expense of jailing us long term and the embarrassment of having us extradited."
"That has some appeal," Hartug admitted. "It falls within the envelope of solutions that President Wiggen requested. She basically wants her orders followed and doesn't have any particular personal vengeful agenda to punish anyone. She certainly didn't want this international court case. But if we return you to Earth I don't see any way you'd avoid that. Even if we returned you to South America or Japan I believe you'd end up extradited to The Hague."
"How about if we stay in space? Find one of the other moon colonies or orbital habitats that will let us enter and we'll go there. There is a small matter of transportation you'd need to supply, but it looks to us as if your ship is large enough to take us. You can stay here and we'll send it right back once we are safely delivered and you should be going back home in five or six days at most. There are plenty of supplies and accommodations here to let you wait in relative comfort."
"How do you know we wouldn't just dock at a USNA controlled habitat?"
"Well, we intend to take several of our associates here with us. We'll leave them in the ship when we dock. We certainly know the various habitats by sight, so that is no problem."
"I'll call and see if we can get somebody willing to receive you," Hartug offered. "What do you propose if nobody wants you?"
"I'd rather not make threats. It would be a small matter for the USNA to sweeten the deal to make offering us asylum more attractive. I suggest you think along those lines," he said and disconnected.
"Lieutenant Carlson, I suggest you pull in your men outside. I am going to need to make a number of calls before this will be resolved. It's likely to go past the time you'd like your men to be bottled up in a suit. They can rest and be fresh if we need them out there again."
April 4: A Different Perspective Page 12
