April 8: It's Always Something

by Mackey Chandler

  "Certainly, I want them to get used to the idea we're not going to disarm every time we visit. Maybe we can influence them to break away from that ugly North American custom too. Don't argue about that either, just offer to leave if they want to make an issue of it. Remember when I sent Annette to Camelot I gave her my pistol as a sign of authority. That worked there, but I doubt it would be understood as a sign of authority at Armstrong. I'm going to institute a new custom."

  Heather reached down on the floor and got something Dakota hadn't seen and handed it to her. It was too big to be a meat tenderizer and too light to crack heads. Dakota wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with it. Whatever its purpose it would be a pain in the butt to carry around on top of everything else she needed.

  "Don't look so thrilled," Heather instructed, sarcastically. "You can make a holster to hang it, or put a lanyard on it for convenience.

  "OK...Maybe like a bayonet frog," Dakota allowed. Heather leaned over and pecked a search silently in her pad.

  "That's a new term to me. I should have known they had to put them somewhere when they weren't...fixed to the rifle," Heather said, remembering the other odd usage.

  "But you still haven't explained what I'm supposed to do with this," Dakota objected. She gave it a few experimental and very aggressive swings to access its heft. "It doesn't have enough mass to do any real damage. I'd think it should have some spikes if you want it to be a weapon, not uh...fins, and it looks too pretty anyway. Is it gold?"

  "Gold plated. I'm nowhere near rich enough to waste that much gold on a prop. It's supposed to be mildly menacing, so I'm glad you thought of it as a weapon. The weapons with spikes were called morning stars, but this is a scepter. It is however modeled a bit after the weapon called a mace," Heather allowed. "Rather than a crown or symbol I wanted the flanges to project a bit more...authority."

  "It would have a lot more authority if it had maybe two more kilograms mass," Dakota suggested. "Then I'd be seriously worried about getting smacked in the faceplate with it."

  "Yes, I understand. But it's easier to carry if it isn't too heavy. The point of it is pure symbolism," Heather explained. "It represents my authority, and I intend to send it with you or anyone I send out on official business with outsiders. If we have occasion to send ambassadors anywhere they will carry it. So don't be shy to explain what it means if anybody asks why you are carrying it. I want it to become common knowledge. I wouldn't want you to actually hit anybody with it and get it all dinged up. Maybe tap a door with it to demand entry, but that's about it. I thought about a ring, there's historic precedent for that, but we so often wear pressure suits that nobody could see a ring."

  "Get the ring made too," Dakota insisted. "It will be a lot handier for a state dinner or a meeting over a conference table. If you park this on the center of the table in front of you, like a center piece, it lacks subtlety."

  "Alright," Heather agreed. "We'll do that too, and reserve this for occasions when the point of my sovereignty needs more emphasis than subtlety."

  * * *

  April got a pang of guilt when she saw her father's com code in the corner of the screen. She took a couple seconds to recover and make sure that reaction was off her face before she accepted the call. After all, she got along better with her father than her mother, so why did she feel this way? Maybe because she hadn't called him in weeks. But then he hadn't called her either, she reminded herself firmly.

  He looked relaxed when she answered, but it took a lot to knock him into emergency mode. "I no longer work for Mitsubishi North America," her Dad informed April.

  "Wow, you finally decided to open the taco stand?"

  It was a long standing family joke.

  "Alas, not yet. It's simply that Mitsubishi N.A. is no more."

  That alarmed April a little. "Then who owns M3?"

  "The parent company. I wasn't told all the details," Robert said. "I assume they paid back a ritual dollar or something. The lawyers know all the rituals to make such things legal. But since we're beyond North America's physical reach, there's not much they can do about it. They can file suit and get injunctions and they'll get told to go pound sand."

  "They may find other ways to express their displeasure," April worried.

  "Exactly why I called," her Dad agreed, "just a heads-up to watch for anything."

  "I'll mention it to Jeff and Heather, Chen and a few others," April promised.

  "People who work for them will be getting documents. I'll tell Jon after talking to you," he said.

  "Thank you, Dad. I'll start those calls right now.

  "That's good...Love you," Robert Lewis said, and disconnected with a nod before April could return the sentiment.

  So, he called her before Jon. That was interesting. She wasn't sure if that meant anything. She knew who she would call first, punched in the shortcut for Jeff and related the story.

  "I think they may have already started," Jeff said, unsurprised. "I was just talking with Irwin, and they informed him the Fed system has ordered all the banks under their system to refuse correspondent accounts with The Private Bank of Home. So the SWIFT system is closed to him in North America. It's always something," he complained.

  "Does he still blame you for alienating them?" April asked.

  "Not anymore. He seems to have gotten past that. He figures they'll continue trying to cut us off completely, but I'm proud of him, he finally figured out they are hurting themselves in the long term. Off Earth is growing faster than legacy industries, and the other countries aren't going to cut themselves off from the things only we can make. They don't have the political pull to make them cut us off anymore, not even their traditional allies."

  "Perhaps you and Irwin should create an off Earth banking association," April suggested.

  "There's just the two of us, and our minor presence on the moon. We hardly need any sort of a trade association yet," Jeff objected.

  "I bet there will be a third bank on Home within a year," April said.

  Jeff wasn't about to contradict her. She was too good at this sort of prediction.

  "We know that New Marseilles wants to declare independence," April pointed out. "Will they keep banking with the French system or have to scramble to set something up? Can we get a foot in the door there? And we should have something, at least an automated teller on ISSII. How about Mars? Who does the banking for Mars?"

  "I don't know," Jeff admitted. "There's only about two hundred people on Mars. There are a good dozen nationalities, and I'm not sure anybody even uses actual physical money. Would you use up your mass limit with money you weren't sure anybody would want? They may just have local accounts to buy the few personal items that are available, and do their banking on Earth."

  "Paper money doesn't mass much. If they didn't take some cash along I bet they write out IOUs and credit chits. There are always a few who seem to have a deep seated urge to bet on stuff. I can't imagine there are two hundred people and you can't find a poker game," April told him.

  Jeff thought about the people he knew and several poker games, both publically known, such as at the Fox and Hare, and a couple very private ones. He'd been made aware that on Home you could find a game of backgammon, craps or hazard. Especially among the beam dogs. He also couldn't image that among two hundred people they didn't have at least a monthly game on Mars.

  April saw that abstracted look Jeff got thinking about something, so she continued.

  "You might at least pay someone to be your agent on Mars. If they use bits for poker markers and other personal services then we will be known to them for banking and financial services outside the control of their countries of origin. It positions you to expand when the population expands. You do expect that don't you?"

  "I do. Just not soon. They've even lost a few residents the last few round trips because the funding is tight. You know I designed a vessel with your Grandpa dedicated to the Mars trip. We have been making small changes to the design whenever th
e state of the art advanced. We could build one right now to make the entire trip under better acceleration than an ion drive, but there's no reason. Mars just doesn't produce anything worth the expense. And getting there quicker is not cheaper than the long slow way already done. I see no way to make it pay," Jeff objected.

  "Is tourism too impossible a dream?" April asked.

  "Right now?" Jeff asked. "Yes. The people on Mars don't want to devote resources to tourists. Your Grandpa knows two people on Mars from his time in Earth orbit work, and they have a fit when a politician forces a personal inspection tour. They have a long list of researchers and scientists who want to go and can't get passage. So they wouldn't welcome even a small group of real tourists. I imagine they would object they don't have accommodations and don't want to divert resources to build them. That's not even figuring all the little things, like suits, they'd need. If the Earth economy was booming I'd think maybe we could get some of the big universities to dig into their endowment to pay for passengers. But not the way things are now."

  "I'll think on it," April promised. "Maybe the only way to cover the cost would be to sell real estate like Heather did on the moon. Do that and you'd be providing your own destination."

  "The present occupants honestly believe all that garbage about 'the common property of mankind' and such. They might not be friendly to new neighbors." Jeff warned.

  "Armstrong wasn't friendly to Heather either," April pointed out. "The question is, What are they going to do about it?"

  The adversarial look on April's face bothered Jeff. There were so many other things to do to which nobody would object.

  "There might be other tourist destinations, with even more spectacular scenery, and no unfriendly natives to oppose you," Jeff suggested. "Barak went on and on about how Jupiter looks filling the sky. He insists that even the best high definition video doesn't give the same impact."

  April perked up and her eyebrows gathered with sudden thought. "Maybe sell a couple seats to go along on an ice mission. We'll have to do a cost analysis. See if the added life support doesn't cost too much. The added mass would be negligible one way. I bet there are at least a few people who'd pay ten Solars to stand and look up at Jupiter."

  Jeff was surprised. "I recall Earth ships, ocean going vessels, not spaceships, used to carry a few passengers even on what were mainly freighters. I have no idea if they still do that. I have Li researching some things about big ships. I'm curious enough I'll ask him that too."

  "Maybe the extra people would add social stability," April speculated. "That would have value even if you didn't make all that much a head on them."

  "People outside the chain of command," Jeff pointed out. "I have no idea what dynamic that would change. I bet passengers could be a pain in the butt."

  "Of course...they're people. But the Commander is The Law under way," April reminded him.

  "I know I'm the one being taught social things," Jeff admitted. "But I don't think you are cut out to be a cruise director."

  "Commander maybe?" April said, hopefully.

  "You know what galleys were?" Jeff asked.

  "The ships?" April asked, and nodded yes.

  "I'm not sure what they called it... I'm not even sure it was historically accurate, in fact I think I saw it in cartoons, but you'd be perfect for the job of the guy at the back who beats on the drum, and the rowers have to keep up with the pace he sets."

  Jeff was afraid that would offend her. Instead she laughed.

  * * *

  "I have a fellow from New Marseille, an Albert Poincaré, holding to speak with you," Dakota informed Heather. "A politician," she added, like an indictment.

  Something about Dakota's manner was off...And she'd walked down the hall to tell her...

  "That isn't who I was speaking with trying to arrange for Dr. Holbrook to go there. I don't know this new name. You are withholding something," Heather accused. "And you are amused. It worries me when you're amused. Is he another one like Harshaw, running a revolutionary committee?"

  "Good guess," Dakota admitted. "Very similar, but not quit as revolutionary. I didn't ask the details but they aren't literally up in arms. Let him explain," she urged.

  "Very well, but I'm not going to abandon my breakfast," Heather decided. "He can talk to me while I finish, if he wants to speak to me."

  Poincaré seemed indifferent to her continuing to eat. Indeed he seemed oblivious to it.

  "Madam, I am Monsieur Poincaré of the French base. How may I address you?"

  "Try Heather. What's going on at your colony?" She asked, continuing to spoon oatmeal.

  "We usually avoid colonie," Poincaré said, though he didn't seem to take offense. "Our habit has been to say avant-poste, but we are going to have a new level of autonomy."

  "And how did you attain this new independence?" Heather asked. She was careful not to sound skeptical or accusing. She was genuinely interested.

  "We negotiated the terms of it," Poincaré said. His face said he had some pride in that accomplishment, and well he might. How often do people accomplish that without bloodshed? Was Heather's honest thought.

  "France has some experience of actual colonies," he reminded her. "They have learned the hard way the wisdom of letting go rather than automatically seeking conflict. It leaves us with a relationship still, which satisfies everyone rather than utter alienation."

  "I congratulate you on that," Heather said sincerely. "I spoke with a Monsieur Torres about one of our refugees from Armstrong going to New Marseille to work with some of your people, and we did a deal trading tech for a tunnel boring machine and other things. Is that deal dead now? The scientist part at least, since we already sent the small machine and had the tech delivered. Do you still want the larger machine they anticipated buying?"

  "We are strongly encouraged to seek economic independence as well as political independence. So our arrangements with you for such projects as the tunnel boring machine will likely increase. I'm contacting you more for the political side of things today rather than commerce. What I'm hoping for Ma...Heather, is to affirm with you a favorable standing, perhaps even a formal alliance with you, to allow trade and more. You are aware we've obtained a variety of seeds and cultures, and wish to become food independent. We're well aware you are ahead of us there. Is that something with which we can further partner with you?" Poincaré asked.

  "To the extent that I've promoted such activity from my own resources, yes. I've committed a lot of our tunnel boring hours to food production tunnels. Some of them are being cultivated by my own employees. Some are leased to subjects or foreign residents. Nobody is prohibited from starting their own, but we have substantial infrastructure.

  "Nothing we've done is proprietary, and you can follow all our efforts and experiments, including the failures, on our local net. I decided to keep everything open as a matter of policy to promote growth. Everything public is easily found and satellite com will carry the bandwidth easily and cheaply. There are private enterprises that are developing products which aren't public knowledge. You'll have to come to some accommodation with those people, and either buy their help or their products outright, or offer them something like local cubic or tech in compensation.

  "I won't however get involved in markets. That is, I won't support or hinder a business with tariffs or taxes. Neither will I reveal the private business of people who lease cubic from us. As long as you don't restrict Central people from conducting business there, I won't hobble your people here. So there is every opportunity to work together."

  "Does that mean you will tax our people who conduct business at Central at the same rate as your own?" Poincaré asked hopefully.

  "I only tax property owners," Heather explained. "We have a bit less than four hundred land owners right now. I tax them according to their surface area. So far I have no outcry that they are oppressed. How they derive income from their holdings is up to them, but it encourages them to do so rather than let it sit unused an
d costing them money. I have accepted labor in lieu of cash for those not engaging in any cash generating businesses."

  Poincaré looked shocked, and then distressed. "You don't tax your subjects or foreign residents at all? No income tax? No fees for services provided?"

  "No, and I realize this can create a problem for you," Heather admitted. "We have a lot of people wanting to move here from Armstrong. They tend to be the more aggressive entrepreneurs, but they are held back because so few of them have the means to set up here."

  "I will have to think on how to address that imbalance," Poincaré said, scrunching his eyebrows.

  You could reduce your tax rate, Heather thought, but that might derail their pleasant conversation, so aloud she said: "I'm uninterested in knowing what my people make," Heather assured him. "As soon as you demand to know how much you can extract from them instead of telling them what you require from them the lying will start. They will avoid making anything if at all possible. Then gaming and lobbying starts about what is income. How can it benefit any country to discourage enterprise and generating profits?"

  "Well yes," Poincaré agreed. "I've studied economics, although it wasn't my major. How you tax will affect how money is put to work. Too many people seeking to park their money in passive investments can be damaging too."

  "I don't tax capital gains either," Heather said, waving that idea away. "Nor are there taxes on inventories, services or inheritances. The closest we come is I set a landing fee for non-landholders at the spaceport of a tenth of a gram Au per metric ton of a craft landing. If they sit there more than fifteen days they start getting a charge for storage. The land owners pay for the field in their tax to me, so why should I subsidize outsiders to compete with them by granting free landing rights?"

  Poincaré blinked and thought a moment. "Air fees, water fees? Tax on cubic cut?"

  "I don't provide air or water. If people lease cubic, air is an insignificant item supplied with the cubic by every landlord of which I'm aware, unless some idiot allows a leak. There are lock fees, but they are modest. I want people to cut new cubic. It's not like running a hab with a central environmental system that has to charge. I realize you have a centralized system because you started in surface structures. I'd never make an issue of Central people being charged for necessary services. Of course if they don't use those services you wouldn't charge them, would you?"