April 4: A Different Perspective

by Mackey Chandler

  "I never knew you felt that way," Linda said, shocked.

  "Lindsy honey, I know a lot of rules at home seemed stupid. A lot of rules at my work are stupid," her dad admitted. "So I have to deal with it too. We only follow them to avoid being punished and it's very tempting to go around them, if you think you can get away with it. But honestly, it is different up here. They have actual reasons for these rules. Being in space has real dangers, but the rules make them manageable. I'm going to work in a pressure suit on the moon and I'll be required to go through a check list and item by item make sure everything is right before I go outside. If I mess up it isn't a ticket from the school compliance officer, I die, rather unpleasantly."

  "I hate to hear you teaching her to ignore rules," Linda complained.

  "I'm trying to appeal to her to think. God only knows the school hasn't tried to teach her how to do that. and I certainly don't think she'd have picked it up from "You Bet Your Life" or "Birthday Boys" on the TV. I think there must be a brain rattling around in there somewhere and I'd like her to try using it, because if I lose this job and we all get sent back to Vancouver, I won't have very good prospects for another job." He stopped and let that idea sink in.

  "Do you really want to see what it's like to live on the negative tax? I can assure you we wouldn't be living in a nice condo and going to the good school with an indoor track and a swimming pool. We'd be in public housing and ride the bus and get the heat-up meals. Think about that."

  "Give me the rest of those cigarettes," her mom demanded. "I want to see them flushed down the toilet and gone for sure."

  "They're back in the other room on the table, all soggy and ruined."

  "Lindsy, I'm more concerned about your lighter," her dad said. "It was having an open fire that got them so upset. I don't even want you to be able to accidentally start a fire. Would you get it for me please and I'll ask how to dispose of it safely."

  "Can't you just toss it in the wastebasket?" Eric felt safe to speak up again with his dad.

  "No, it has a little reservoir of flammable gas. It has stuff that sparks. I'm an engineer, trust me on this, I bet they have a special way of taking stuff like that out of circulation."

  Eric nodded, surprised, but interested. Stuff sure was complicated here.

  Lindsy got in her purse and dug around until she found a plastic disposable lighter. She handed it to her dad without any drama or funny faces. "I'll try not to get us kicked out," she conceded. "But I'm not sure I might not mess up just by accident. I don't know what else might be against their rules. I mean, nobody handed us any handbook or anything when we came in. How is somebody supposed to know?"

  "I just assumed they pretty much kept all the same laws from North America," her dad admitted. "That's what break-away colonies have done before, kept the same legal system. Obviously I was wrong. I'd guess there must be something on the local net. We'll look and see what we can find before we do very much at all. We're supposed to meet my new boss tomorrow and he's going to show us where you'll stay when I'm off working. We can ask him what we should be aware of too."

  "If you go shower I'll lay out some dry clothes for you," her mom offered. "The luggage is wet but everything inside should be dry and we need to get a bag or something from the hotel for laundry. I have no idea if you send it out, or go to a do-it-yourself place or what," she admitted.

  "I'll do a net search," Eric volunteered from the com console. "I like doing searches."

  * * *

  "Hello," the man on her screen greeted her. "I'm Brian Hartug, a special administrator for President Wiggen at Armstrong. Are you Ms. Dakota?" He inquired politely.

  "Yes I am. What can I do for you Mr. Hartug?" she asked cautiously.

  "At the moment nothing of which I am aware," he said. "I'm just calling to inform you that the last four people with previous administrative authority have been removed from Armstrong. There were also three technicians removed, who had no depth of authority, but seemed entirely too zealous in supporting their supervisors in questionable actions."

  "Oh, I'm sure they were just following orders," Dakota bit off sarcastically. "In the best tradition of all the loyal minions down through history, who were needed to stack the bodies and shovel the graves back in."

  "I can't fault your anger and I'm making no excuses for them. However, I was told you'd want to know they are gone and unless someone else here is hiding a repressive urge, I don't think there is anyone left who will try to manage your communications or impose any restrictions on your movement, or what you may own. I'll be here a week or a bit more and I'd appreciate if you let me know if you have any difficulties. I haven't yet decided who is going to be at least temporarily in charge. I'm just starting on some interviews. But you should have no further trouble placing com calls or traveling here," he hesitated, "or more to the point, leaving Armstrong should you decide to visit."

  "Are they under arrest then? Did you ship them back to the USNA?"

  "That was my original intent. However when I arrived here at Armstrong with a small contingent of armored troopers we were unable to gain entry or conduct any interviews because the ones holding power presented us with a hostage situation."

  "Those scum would threaten their own people?" Dakota asked amazed. "I mean they were willing to shoot us, after we'd left and they felt we were an enemy. But to threaten the people who stayed! You have to work with those folks elbow to elbow. They eat with them! How could they be that evil?"

  "The capacity for evil unfortunately doesn't seem to be rare in humans. But let me tell you, I felt it was a very credible threat. They had everyone gathered in one building with them and had denied them access to their pressure suits. It rather tied our hands as far as breaching the building with explosives to gain entry. I'm fairly certain we could not have aided them to suit up in time to avert a massacre, so I reluctantly acceded to their demands."

  "I hope that doesn't mean you gave them any sort of a pardon," Dakota said scowling. 'Tell me you didn't do that please. I didn't think President Wiggen would do that. She was quite put out at the disrespect for her authority."

  "No, but they requested our transport to leave and stranded us here until it, or something else comes to relieve us. My understanding is they intend to go to the French habitat and ask asylum. Now if they will grant it is another question," he posed, trying to avoid admitting it was a setup. "However the French do have a strong history of allowing entry to people we'd find repugnant, if not outright terrorists. We'll see what happens," he said as if it was unsure.

  "Surely France being a European nation will allow extradition to the Hague," Dakota said confidently.

  "One would think so," Hartug agreed easily. "You certainly can add your voice to the matter, having an interest as you do."

  "Wow, just wow. That took off in a direction I didn't see coming. I have to talk to my people here and think on this. We'll try calling old friends again and if there is any problem we will give you a call. Do you know if they are still looking for help from us on some of the practical matters like the air plant?"

  "I haven't been tasked with resolving matters down to that level of detail," Hartug said smoothly. "I'm not even aware of any problems with the production of air. But since I'll be staying here and hopefully breathing for at least a week I'll certainly ask about that and encourage them to speak with you again if there is any real need," he promised.

  "Goodbye then, Administrator Hartug. I believe we'll speak again," she predicted.

  Chapter 20

  "This is my own apartment," Jeff explained to the Penningtons. "I'll be spending most of my time on the moon while Mo will be working for me. I've only been using it a few days here and there. I realize it is smaller than you are accustomed to. It is usually considered space for two, but we are having a severe housing shortage and a volume big enough to configure for three rooms just isn't available now. I rent this, but there are no three bedrooms on the market and to buy that much cubic right now
would be a wait, even at a price of couple million USNA dollars. I'll have a sofa bed brought in so your boy can sleep in the big room. I'll just stay in my business offices while you are here. It has a bath and I can sleep on an air mattress after business hours. In a half G an air mattress is quite comfortable."

  "Can you do that without getting in trouble with the authorities for using commercial property for residential purposes?" Mo asked.

  Jeff looked at him oddly, like what he was saying didn't compute. "Oh, that's Earth Think," he said smiling. "There is no zoning authority in that sense. Mitsubishi owns the physical structure, the actual habitat. But the only rules they have are the necessary ones to keep it from losing physical integrity or making it wobble. I can't remove load bearing structures or move mass in or out faster than the balance system can compensate. The entry is an airlock, it has to remain functional in case of pressure loss, although I could replace it with a higher grade manual lock instead of a pressure sensing lock," he mused, like he would consider doing that.

  "I guess as your new employer I should do a safety orientation. If there is a pressure drop the inner door to the lock closes and seals. You have to manually open and close it and of course the outer door won't open unless the inner is sealed. There are two emergency suits in a cabinet in the lock. You can put them on in there, but it's easier to bring them inside and do it flat on the floor. I'll get one and show you." He went back inside the entry alcove and returned with silvery roll sealed in a clear envelope.

  "We call these One-Size-Doesn't-Fit-Anyone suits," he explained grabbing a ring and pulling it the length of the roll. The silvery suit took up a significant amount of the available floor space stretched out flat.

  "The inside is really slick, so if you start your feet in the tops of the legs like this," he did so leaving on his shoes, "you can sit and extend your legs, then grab each side of the open suit and slide forward until you are all the way against the crotch. You see my legs are too short to get my feet in the boots? That's why we say it doesn't fit anyone. You pull these tabs on each calf and it bunches the material up around your ankle until it's short enough to fit," he said, demonstrating how to adjust them until his foot was at the bottom.

  "If the pressure is actually falling and you are in a hurry, you can of course seal up first and then laying on your back get all the adjustment tabs pulled until the arms and legs and body length fit. Just don't get too excited and say pull the legs up too short or you'll be walking around with the crotch half way down to your knees."

  He reached back and found the arm holes, shrugged them on and raising his shoulders, lifted the helmet over his head with both hands. He then laid back flat and grabbed the big red pull lanyard at his crotch and pulled it upward, sealing the front seam, until it locked with an audible snap almost to the base of his neck.

  "To get it back open you need to squeeze on each side of the slider," he said, voice muffled somewhat by the suit. "It takes a bit of force since you wouldn't want to do it accidentally. The air cycling and CO² scrubber activate when it seals. I'm going to open it back up again right away, because the fee to recertify and roll it back up is much less if the air pack reads less than five-percent used and doesn't have to be recharged." He did so, wiggling out of the suit in reverse.

  "If anybody wants to try it, now is your chance," Jeff offered with a wave at the suit laid out flat on the deck. Eric stepped onto it and slid in the legs pretty easily, the arms and helmet were harder for him to reach because he was so much shorter. He pulled the front seal up but stopped short of closing it and got back out. He didn't pull all the tabs in to make it fit him because then nobody else would fit in it. His dad went through the motions too. Linda declined and Lindsy, watching to see what her mom would do, quickly passed also.

  "So they will roll this back tight and seal it in a new cover and use it again?" Eric asked.

  "Yes, but they turn it inside out and inspect it for any tears or snags. Most folks who wear Earthie style dress shoes with a heel, cut the corners of their heels off at an angle so they won't catch if they need to use a suit. They'll wipe it down with a sani-wipe and weigh the chemical canisters in the air pack to make sure they are within spec. It costs about eight-hundred dollars USNA to recertify and pack, but if they have to replace a canister or patch a tear the figure doubles."

  "So you just spent eight-hundred bucks to show us how to use it?" Eric asked wide eyed.

  "Yes, but isn't it so much better to really do it than watching a video?"

  "Have you ever actually had to use one of these?" Linda asked.

  "No, I've been on M3 half my life and there has never been an actual pressure emergency," he admitted. "I do wear a suit anytime I'm in one of our small ships or working on the moon, but it is a bespoke suit, cut to fit me exactly and it is much heavier and tougher. You'd have a hard time hacking a hole in the fabric with a regular pocket knife and it has elbow pads, a built-in insulated seat and over boots and gloves. I own a thruster pack and helmet lights and stuff, to use it for zero-G work too if I want."

  "It seems like a lot of expense for something you never use," Linda said.

  "I bet you had a fire hydrant in front of your house down on Earth, didn't you?" he asked.

  "Yes, we did and before you ask, no, we never saw it with hoses on being used," Mo admitted.

  Jeff just nodded, acknowledging he'd gotten the point. "I'll call and make sure you have four suits in the cabinet this shift," he promised. "I'll leave the plants," he said waving at them. "Almost everyone has them because it keeps the air cleaner. They all have a little stick jammed in the dirt. When it starts turning blue, if you'd put a little tap water in the pot I'd appreciate the help keeping them alive."

  "We are off schedule, because it was deemed prudent to send our ship quickly to the moon when a USNA vessel went there suddenly. It should be back in three days, so we have about five days to fit you for a suit and do some training before it turns around. Sound doable?" he asked Mo.

  "It does, we need to ask what we should read to acclimate ourselves to Home? I had sort of expected you'd just keep the USNA legal model and slowly modify away from our laws as you saw need. Now we found out there are no drug laws and the regulations from Mitsubishi have more force than the laws we are used to. Is there a handbook or something available?"

  "You know, someone did mention to me that Mitsubishi has an orientation document they keep current for the vacuum rats and beam dogs. I'll get a copy and send it to your com. Do you folks have station com registered yet?"

  "No, how do we do that?"

  "You can do it right on the desk com there. Just pick the communications icon. I removed this desk from my call points so it will ask for an ID. Click on the registration line and it will ask for names the way you want to be listed. There will be a numeric ID after the name, if you want to let somebody contact you without sharing your name, but either will connect you. I suggest you get spex though. Just about everyone finds them indispensible. They will build you a 3D map and guide you point to point."

  "I'm not sure I approve of children having such a luxury," Linda scowled.

  "Up to you, they are cheap and nobody here thinks of them as a luxury," he added.

  "Define cheap," Eric said, remember the suit expense.

  "I think the cheapest basic ones are about a hundred-fifty USNA. About like a cheap pair of cloth shoes. Mine are pretty decent," he said, touching them, "they ran about six hundred a year ago. Probably four-fifty or five hundred now," he guessed. "They go obsolete faster than I want to take time to learn new ones. On Home folks tend to buy the high end ones."

  "They cost more down home," Eric confirmed. "What happens to the old ones?"

  "Now that's an interesting question," Jeff said smiling bigger than he had before. "I think I have three or four old pair in my junk bag. I hate to throw them away if they still work. Would you like me to courier over a couple pairs for the kids? The newer ones still have detachable cameras, but t
hey lack the death rays that shoot out of the temple pieces," he joked, stabbing forward with both index fingers to illustrate.

  "That would be nice," Mo agreed before his wife could nix it. He knew she wasn't going to appreciate that death ray joke. "We can keep in contact with them that way. I'm sure they don't need the latest tech. I had a question I neglected to ask in my interview. How exactly are you going to pay me? I mean where will it be deposited? Do you need my account information for my Earthside bank?"

  "I could wire the money through the Private Bank of Home, but it seems like the wire fees on both ends would add up too fast. I was going to pay you monthly in advance. That's the custom up here. So I opened an account in the Private Bank and your first month's wages are there already. They can transfer to North American banks as you need instead of automatically. If you want to make other arrangements that's fine – just tell them you don't want to sign the account cards and they'll give you cash instead. I have a transfer account between my own bank and the Private Bank so you could get cash every month if you wanted. But it's handy having a bank card.

  "Why don't you pay me through your own bank?" Mo asked, puzzled.

  "When I say, my own bank, I don't mean the bank where I'm a customer. I mean the System Trade Bank where I'm a director and have an ownership interest. I was concerned there are too many opportunities for a conflict of interest to pay employees in one venture through another in which I have control. I'd be really nervous to be paid that way. and the System Bank has no access to North American settlement services, so that makes it awkward too."

  "Now I understand," Mo said. He kept a straight face but was rattled. This kid looked to be eighteen, nineteen maybe. He'd worried if he actually had the means to pay him.

  "Are the taxes taken out of it? I never filled out any forms."

  "What taxes?" Jeff asked. "You don't owe Home any taxes unless you volunteer to pay them. So far everybody who did so wanted to become a citizen. You haven't indicated any desire to declare as a permanent resident or citizen and it isn't necessary for your job. Any USNA taxes are between you and them. I'm certainly not going to be an agent for a foreign revenue agency."