"How long does it wait to go boom?" April asked.
"It's variable. The more sensors that are tripped from probing it the less time it gives them. If they have an extremely sophisticated suite of scanning devices it may be provoked to detonate in a single day. They will already know far more about it than I like. The one thing I hope is that most of that information is held physically close, on the same base, because of security concerns. When it detonates it should remove that information too if it wasn't transmitted to remote storage."
"If it's North America they might declare war again over this," April worried.
"They already said the war never ended," Jeff reminded her.
"Yeah, if they meant it, if that faction has the authority to say it," April allowed.
"Well if God's Warriors didn't like the Liberty spox repudiating the treaty they should have spoken up. They supposedly rule together. We suspect the mass of the Patriot Party that wasn't destroyed was pretty much absorbed into the Sons of Liberty. Their policies certainly seem similar. God's Warriors has never been as aggressive at denouncing us as their partners. They don't like us either, but are less publically aggressive. And how they treat us is far from their only difference. I'm amazed they can get along as well as they have," Jeff admitted.
"They may not know what the Sons of Liberty have done," April decided.
"Well, now that I've made this announcement I bet they will suspect. There aren't all that many Earth powers capable of snatching it from orbit. It could precipitate a falling out between them," Jeff suggested, hopefully.
"Oh yeah," April agreed. Trying to imagine all the possibilities.
* * *
"Is the Colonel out of his mind?" General Kilpatrick asked. "They hinted at some operation against the Homies, but I thought even infiltrating them or some discreet sabotage too risky at which to play. He's climbed in the tiger cage and kicked the napping beast in the butt. He should have been thanking the Lord they decided to move beyond the moon instead of responding to their sniping with a far more robust response."
"I suspect they'd disavow the attack on Home as the work of the Patriot party," his strategic planner Bellini suggested. "I know, I know. Nobody will admit being Patriots now, except they were forced to join the party or be denounced and discharged. Or quietly removed and buried in the night if they were too adamant in turning the invitation down."
"Yes, outside of DC there must have been no more than ten, or maybe a dozen real Patriots, in the whole country," Kilpatrick sneered sarcastically.
"I'd have loved to hang the lot of them," Bellini averred.
"There isn't enough rope," the General said disgusted.
"You'd be amazed what I can do with an extension cord," Bellini vowed.
"I'd love to find out, but realistically we have to deal with them, rather than satisfy our fantasies," his superior said, sadly. "How are we going to rein in these madmen before they kill us all?"
"If we can't wipe them all out, we can at least cull the herd leaders," Bellini proposed.
"That has dangers too," Kilpatrick warned, but he didn't say no outright.
When Bellini let the silence grow, Kilpatrick said, "Well, at least make it seem an accident, or shift the blame to others if you can. There's no shortage of others who wish them dead, even among their own kind."
"They killed their founder didn't they?" Bellini reminded him.
"Indeed. It was a lesson that didn't pass my attention," the founder of God's Warriors said.
* * *
The back wall of the hanger had a section disassembled and a wall of interlocking blocks such as were used in massive retaining walls hand laid four rows thick near the edge of the foundation before sand bags were laid against it. Then a dump trailer full of scrap metal commandeered from a nearby business had been backed up slowly, and pushed by hand gently against the sandbags. Sand poured over the metal filled the voids. Hoses were wetting the sand to add mass as they spoke. Olsen supervised the careful placement of the mobile rail gun just outside the hanger door on the opposite side. They brought it up dead slow and were afraid to drive the tracked vehicle onto the concrete floor least the vibrations set the sensitized device off.
An X of spray paint marked the exact spot they wished the armor piercing projectile to enter. The gun commander and gunnery officer assured him they would hit the mark within millimeters of dead center from only forty meters away. The penetrator would pass through largely unaltered, nothing in the bomb being anywhere near as massive as the armor it was designed to penetrate. The ghostly rectangle at which they were aiming both he and Brinks agreed had to be the controlling computer. It was about the size of a hand pad, and unfortunately they were aiming at the thin edge of it instead of the flat face. Brinks was sitting in hand cuffs under guard, but Olsen had refused to release him, demanding he retain him to consult. When they expressed fear he could sabotage their effort, Olsen had reasonably pointed out that if he was suicidal he could have simply walked over and kicked the damn thing.
Brinks, for his part was resigned to death, but not eager for it. He was happy for every minute that put his family further away. So far they hadn't seemed bright enough to imagine that's who he'd called, guessing him an agent of other political factions or even Home itself. Workers were already digging up the sewer line outside as they continued, correctly guessing he'd flushed the small phone away when a search failed to find it. They were also constrained to hand digging for fear a backhoe would cause vibrations. He didn't think they would have time to recover it.
At three thousand two hundred meters per second the twelve kilogram core projectile would reach the computer in less than a millisecond from the outer shell. That was probably faster than the shockwave of its impact could be transmitted to the computer, if the real accelerometers were near the core. The discarding rail bus should start to peel off on the outer casing, exposing the nose of the tungsten alloy penetrator.
There were very few wires to be seen in their images. Brinks suspected the few they saw were decoys to encourage entry to neutralize them. Whoever made this device had a terribly devious mind. He'd built in layers and layers of real traps and false hazards. If it had sensors on the periphery with polymer light fibers, and they hit one, they were dead. The projectile could be ten times as fast and still couldn't beat light to the computer. He had no hard numbers, but suspected a device like this might be disarmed one time in a thousand tries. The level of protection made him think the mind that did this would make each one different, so cracking one wouldn't mean the next would open the same.
The hastily built twenty three meter thick backdrop might or might not stop the rail gun projectile entirely even if it broke it up. It might also deflect out the side or up. It was the best they could do on short notice and they were evacuating everything in a wide cone behind it.
Everyone retreated and sheltered behind the armored mobile gun. A few even squatted down behind it, which Brinks found amusing. They had a mobile flash x-ray unit set to take a series of scans once the projectile reached the far side of the computer. The theory being it would help them reconstruct the pieces after they were mechanically scattered. Brinks didn't expect to live long enough to even see the flash. He was right.
* * *
Jeff's phone pinged. "Boom," said Chen when he answered.
"Well crap. I expected that when they didn't reply in an hour," Jeff admitted. "Where?"
"The military installation at Pensacola, Florida," Chen said. "But the yield was, again, more than expected. It was near the upper end of what you expected, a good fifteen megatons. Any ideas why that would happen?" Chen asked.
Among the questions Jeff had asked himself over and over the last few hours was if they might do something to make it produce the full yield. There were a couple possibilities.
"It's conceivable if they destroyed the front computer or the rear computer, but not both at the same time it might make the device revert to a full yield default," Jeff d
ecided. "But doing that might also have damaged some internal structures I'd rather not describe to you, or anybody, which would produce a partial yield. So yeah, it could happen. I'm glad it was at least somewhat moderated. And at least they didn't work on it somewhere with a huge population."
"They're going to have a shallow new western lobe to the Pensacola Bay there, open to the Gulf without any barrier islands, but I suspect in a few years they'll reform," Chen said. "If it had been a full yield device it would have opened a passage up to Pedido Bay, and made a new island. I expect there will be considerable damage on the west end of the city."
"I'm sure they are going to vilify me to no end," Jeff agreed. "I hope you didn't lose any assets?"
"I'm as reluctant to describe my assets as you are bomb parts, but no, I didn't have anyone close enough to do more than see it on the horizon," Chen assured him.
"I'm going to go see what the news service are saying," Jeff said. "Thanks for telling me."
April already had a couple on the split screen, and he was glad she didn't seem to be anguishing over it. If they showed too much ugly local coverage he'd encourage her to shut it off. But the European programs she had running were discussing it with no close video at all.
* * *
Kurt walked to the counter and looked. He could hear somebody talking in the back, but the lady Ruby wasn't in sight or he'd have thanked her again. He dumped his tray and stacked the non-disposables. Best to get to the clinic rather than wait until the last minute. You never knew when there might be a delay. Even if you have an appointment, a doc can be tied up dealing with an emergency at any time.
The Private bank of Home was right there on the corridor, and Kurt stopped to see if he could get some cash with his card from Singh's bank. There wasn't a cash machine like he'd expect on Earth, but the fellow at the first desk was happy to help him and cheerful. It was so un-Earthlike to have friendly service from a bank it jolted him again. He got four of the smallest denomination coins. It felt better to have some real money he knew people would accept.
"Do you want some bits?" Irwin asked, holding up a business card sized fold over.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt admitted.
"Oh, they don't circulate much off Home yet. Although I've heard the casinos will take them at New Las Vegas. Are you new to Home?" Irwin asked, despite his System Trade Bank card."Some folks have Home accounts who have never stepped foot on Home."
"I've been away for months," Kurt explained. "And I won't be around but a few hours, before I head to the moon."
"Oh, they take them at Central," Irwin assured him. "In fact there's a branch of your bank there now. I'm not sure if they are negotiable at Armstrong, but after all, Central is an easy bus ride away."
Kurt held out his hand and examined the card Irwin gave him.
"Oh, it's to make change," Kurt figured out pretty quickly.
"Indeed. I'd compare it to the idea of coins, but it's really a bank note. There's no embedded value. We've rather reversed the use of coins and notes," Irwin mused.
"I've just come from North America, and my experience with fiat paper left a bad taste in my mouth. I'd rather hold a real coin or take the change in digital credits from somebody I trust."
"Oh no," Irwin said, emphatically. "These are fully redeemable for gold at the bank. When you present a hundred of them you can demand a coin just like the ones you withdrew today."
"Who guarantees them? My System Trade Bank?" He hadn't read all the tiny print on the inside.
"Yes, which means the banks partners," Irwin said. "It isn't a corporation. We don't have public corporations on Home, so the partners in any enterprise are responsible. There's not even the sheltering of limited partner liability, so you have a basis for solid trust."
"Singh is one of the partners then? I wasn't aware it wasn't just his bank. What if he goes broke?" Kurt asked. "That's still possible isn't it?"
"In theory. A currency offered by even a sovereign nation is subject to them going bust too. Miss Lewis and Anderson are also full partners. They share some dealing with Mr. Singh. But both have other holdings in their own names. Heather Anderson is the sovereign of Central on the moon. So her entire domain is technically all hers to draw upon. I assure you Miss Lewis has businesses and other holdings that are significant too, just not as well known to the public. Besides, it's Home. If you feel cheated, and want, you can call on any of them to give you satisfaction or meet you to duel. That's a powerful incentive to upright business dealings," Irwin said. "As you noticed, if North America goes bust lots of luck calling them to account."
"Yeah, I still have one foot on Earth," Kurt admitted. "In Mobile if I felt the bank cheated me they'd just sneer and say, 'Sue us.' Which is the same as telling me to go pound sand."
Irwin nodded. "Welcome back to civilization."
"Give me fifty of these bits," Kurt decided. "I'll try them out."
Kurt had to go past the clinic to a lower rent area to find a salon. Getting his hair buzzed off helmet short took a couple minutes and was cheaper than styling. He used five of the new bits to pay and gave the fellow an extra bit as a tip. He seemed happier now with that tip, than he had after Kurt had firmly turned down a long list of other services.
The clinic wasn't busy at all. The nurse practitioner seemed to be the receptionist too, and said she'd start doing his tests so the doctor could see him when done with his current patient. The tests seemed to be mostly remote scanning with only one finger prick.
Doctor Lee came in after a couple minutes and sat reading the screen from the testing for a good ten minutes before proceeding. He asked Kurt if he'd just had a large meal, and suggested he might have some gene mods if he was going to eat like that as a habit. Otherwise he'd probably be seeing him to restore pancreatic function, stabilize his hormones and lose some weight.
Kurt was young and flexible, but the doc still had him test his grip and strength at extension. He did reflex and hearing tests and a vision test, checking for color perception too. The medical he'd had before when hired for Mitsubishi hadn't been anywhere near as thorough. Kurt said as much to him.
He had Kurt strip and dimmed the lights, examining him with a hand held scanner that illuminated a few square centimeters at a time. He was very thorough, requiring him to lift his arms to scan his arm pits and his private areas, even scanning between his toes.
"Were you looking for skin cancer, doc?" Kurt asked.
"Yes, you've been on Earth and in fairly tropic latitudes. You've had sunlight exposure now and as a child. Some of the air pollution there also accelerates the process to develop skin cancer. I can detect it in scan several years before it may show up to the unaided eye or a blood test. And bluntly, injection sites, because there are designer drugs we don't have tests to reveal, but interfere with your ability to work. The synthesizers are always one step ahead of us.
"Also I'm checking for other common Earth diseases, bites, parasites, fungal infections and unhealed injuries. You have your hair nice and short, but we once did a physical on a fellow three days out from Earth who had a tick hidden in his thick hair. He had no idea, and they are filthy things. Are you aware you had an infection of Charleston fever recently?" Doctor Lee asked.
"I have no idea what that is, Doc," Kurt admitted.
"It's a bacterium, similar to Lyme disease, other Borrelia, Bourbon disease, Colorado fever, Heartland virus, Spotted fever, Malaria, Yellow fever, Zika, Dengue, or West Nile in its mode of transmission. It isn't definitively linked to ticks or mosquitoes, yet. But I personally expect it will be. The filthy things are a huge vector for both viral and bacteriological diseases." Lee frowned. "Or protozoan parasites," he added after thoughtful consideration. "That's what Malaria is. Damned filthy bugs spread everything. Probably stuff we don't suspect yet."
"Charleston is mild or asymptomatic for many healthy people. That's why it took such a long time to be recognized. When people commonly die from a disease it gets
our attention faster. You probably thought you had a cold. You have a high level of the antibodies but not an active infection so you'll be fine. You have antibodies for a lot more serious stuff. You've had three kinds of flu, chickenpox, and seven typed rhino viruses," Lee revealed. "I don't see any indications you've ever had Mumps, TB or Diphtheria, and we've seen evidence of just about everything but Smallpox come through here."
"You make me wonder how I ever survived Earth," Kurt said.
"A lot of people don't," Lee agreed. "I may visit again if relations improve in the future, but you can be assured I will be very cautious where I go and what activities I enjoy. In particular, I doubt I will ever be visiting the tropics."
"Why does Mr. Singh pay for such a detailed physical?" Kurt asked.
"You have it backward," Lee informed him. "Mitsubishi detailed exactly what they wanted to pay for in my instructions. Jeff Singh just said use your professional discretion and do whatever you think is best and necessary."
"You know, if he respects a beam dog's experience with their job, like he does doctors, I may like working for the man," Kurt decided.
"Well, I'm done, and you pass. There is no medical reason why you can't work for him," Lee said. "You are typically healthy for an active young man of your age. That isn't to say you wouldn't benefit from a number of small changes in diet and habits. I can see you don't have an unhealthy taste for alcohol, or narcotics. You are also likely shorting yourself an hour or so of sleep a night. If you want a copy of your physical and a risk assessment, ask my assistant and she'll transfer it to your pad, send it to your com account or print it out for a bit. It will have some of those recommendations attached. Of course you would benefit from life extension therapies, but they would preclude you visiting many places on Earth again."
"I'm starting to wonder if I care about that," Kurt admitted, standing to leave. "Thanks Doc."
"You're welcome. Try to keep your helmet on straight," Lee joked. "It makes a hell of a mess for us to fix when you guys try to breath vacuum."
April 8: It's Always Something Page 10
