April 8: It's Always Something

by Mackey Chandler

  "Really? The pirate? She has matured. She's still quite young, but so poised," Joel admitted.

  "She's gene mod, so I doubt she has changed appearance all that much, but the dress does show her off to some advantage," Broutin agreed. "Undoubtedly she has matured...mentally. The young gentleman has some style too, doesn't he? The outfit was rather modern, but it did have a certain flair without seeming to be so casual like so many of the young people wear now. You'd think they were headed to the beach or race track when you see them in a decent restaurant."

  "I know just what you mean," Joel said. "There are still a few places that have standards to be admitted. But it's a losing battle. I suppose the majority of them would have no custom at all, and have to close their doors if they didn't admit the casual hordes, and Americans in t-shirts," he said distastefully. "I suppose after we're dead and gone they'll be dining in their pajamas and wonder what we old fossils were raising such a fuss about."

  "Say what you want about Home, they've matured as a nation too. They've been supportive of our moon base and their ally at Central hasn't interfered in Marseilles' transition to independence. They are not pressuring us or others to repudiate the North Americans who have been acting like asses. The idiots said that they now don't recognize the treaty they made with the Homies and implied they are still in a state of war with them. A lesser nation might have lacked the confidence to ignore that foolishness and bombarded them to rubble," Broutin suggested.

  "Their internal stupidity is impeding the international recovery from the flu and the attendant economic chaos," Joel complained. "I also don't understand China and their continued lack of order, but then I've never understood their thought processes. I've expected better of the North Americans when it comes to economic practicality."

  "Home, on the other hand, has the fastest growing economy in the Earth-Moon system," Broutin pointed out. "Australia has recognized them and given them landing rights, and Japan, as xenophobic as they are, did the same just yesterday." Broutin said.

  "You're promoting the idea of recognizing them again to me, aren't you?" the PM said. "I don't think it will fly anymore than before. There is still too much opposition to it in the Union, as weak as the Union has become. More opposition in some quarters after the flu. It's superstition and innuendo about the gene mod issue, and you can't even address it because they won't admit that's the problem. The Poles alone would raise a stink sufficient to sink it. The new Pope is spending nine or ten months of the year there. He might as well move the Vatican there for all his wintering in Italy lends it legitimacy, and the Church is still firmly opposed to such gene mods and will be for a long time. Certainly long after we are dead and gone."

  Broutin didn't argue that. They might be gone from governance, but he intended to be around a lot longer. He'd already had some of the non-cosmetic treatments...

  "Come now. How much unity is left in the Union? Every year sees a bit more agreement nibbled away. The UK has come in and out three times on different terms each time. The Scots and the Irish can't decide if they want to belong to either or both. We were worried about being the first to recognize them before, now I'd say it's easier to worry about being the last. What other issue would you worry about what the Union wants rather than what is good for France?" Broutin asked.

  "I suppose you want to go quietly have some talks with them on the matter?" the PM asked. "Are you sure you don't just want to revisit your charming little pirate?"

  "I could do that on holiday if I wished. My understanding is the young duelist is her beau, so it might not be timely or politic to show a renewed interest. And after all Joel...It is my job. Who would you send otherwise? The Minister of Agriculture?" Broutin asked.

  "I suppose not. You may have a point. The Norwegians or the Turks might beat us to the punch and be smart enough to get an exclusive engagement for this part of the globe, shutting us out."

  Chapter 24

  "Grandeza Lewis, I wonder if my wife and I might have the pleasure of your company and your young gentleman for dinner? We have no evening commitments for the next ten days. I'm afraid we may slowly become homebodies if we don't make some effort to socialize. Would you mind sparing a few hours to liven an older couple's evening and perhaps get us mentioned in the gossip sites before we fade into obscurity?"

  "Oh come on now, Carlos. You can't have breakfast in the cafeteria without three boards reporting how you had your eggs," April scoffed. He didn't object to being called Carlos. He and Sofia called themselves Ferdinando and Sancha when they'd had first come to Home. They were under a cloud of disapproval for having received life extension therapy via an unplanned infection. The strict moralists didn't care if they hadn't done so purposely. It still tainted them willful or not. Until a bunch of the critics had the same experience. April regarded that as delicious karma. Enough people had eventually recognized them that now their identity was an open secret on Home.

  She ignored the title he conferred, because he was the only person in the universe to call her that. She'd already resolved to accept being called Lady Lewis, so she didn't object. He demanded she just call him Carlos, since he and his wife had stepped down from the Spanish throne. But he seemed to enjoy calling her Grandeza. He similarly addressed Jeff as Lord Singh, to the puzzlement of waiters and bystanders. Maybe that was why he enjoyed doing it. He did have a healthy sense of humor.

  "Do you want to go to the Fox and Hare?" April asked. "They've been getting champagne again, band I'll call and reserve a bottle, if you want. They sell out of everything coming in pretty fast still."

  "No. I don't want to do the Fox and Hare this time," Carlos insisted. "It's nice, but they won't bill your table, and I don't want to mooch, we want to treat you. Also, Sophia wants to dance, so we'll do the Quiet Retreat."

  "OK, that would be fun to dance," April agreed. "Let's say Wednesday at 1900? I'll call if Jeff can't do that, but pretty much any time is equally inconvenient for him. I'll insist he name a time if he tries to weasel out of it."

  "You do that," Carlos said approvingly. "You become dull if all you do is business day after day."

  "Thank you, Carlos. I'm looking forward to it," April said, and Carlos signed off with a nod.

  The interesting thing was, Carlos hadn't mentioned Ben and Martha Patsitsas. The two couples had come to be near inseparable, and she'd expected them to be part of the package, but Carlos hadn't mentioned them. Perhaps they'd be there and he'd just neglected to tell April. She wouldn't mind if they were all in a big party. Ben was an interesting novelist, and Martha was Martha Wiggen, previously President of North America. It was no surprise they found so much in common, since Martha had to flee her country just like they had.

  April dropped a text to Jeff. Now...what could she wear? Something that she could dance in, and that hadn't been seen in public too recently. Or she could buy something.

  * * *

  "What was that idiot thinking to brag on being one of God's Warriors in front of their entire assembly? I did not authorize such an operation, and it's presumptive beyond excusing to do so without national level permission. Do you realize how bad it looks to have lost the duel so spectacularly?" General Kilpatrick asked. "You've heard of viral videos? Well, this stupid thing has been a video pandemic to rival the Great Flu, without a national or a commercial network ever touching it. The snide remarks about how it must be God's will and how dipping your knife in poison shows a lack of faith are actually hurting recruitment. One well known blogger referred to it as a David and Goliath moment, but that we're too stupid to figure out we're the Philistine.

  "It didn't help the video switched over and showed the construction worker dying horribly too. We're painted vile murderers, and there's some special horror about murder by poison. It's universally seen as sneaky and underhanded. Anybody who attends a duel should know it's risky, but I have yet to find any way to say that, without it sounding like I'm blaming the victim. Find out who sponsored this so we may discipline them."<
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  "I've had the membership roles searched," Bellini said. "In particular there are no members in military service surnamed Patrick who are unaccounted. The civilian roles are less reliable, what with the movement of so many people. But one supposes traveling to Home alone sets a barrier with which few individuals could deal. I doubt this is one zealot running ahead of us."

  Kilpatrick looked at him, astonished. "You imply the fellow, Mr. Patrick, was not one of ours? How can you find that credible when the man was risking his life under our banner?"

  "We've seen evidence on several other occasions where the Sons of Liberty recruited under false circumstances," Bellini said. "They have had their own agents represent themselves as God's Warriors to recruit the pliable and unbalanced. Indeed, they have gone so far as filling a meeting with a dozen false agents to create the appearance of a local organization to a potential recruit. We have video of just such a meeting from our own spies within their organization."

  "So, this may have been a sort of false flag? Done in our name by our double-damned ally?" Kilpatrick asked.

  "It would appear to be possible, even likely. This may have been coordinated, to remove the principle owner of this new shuttle landing platform at the same time. The new rebellion in Hawaii cut that off cold. Their main command stepped in and removed the Pacific Commander for attempting this. But there is considerable sentiment lobbying their leadership to conduct a strike on the new landing platform from the mainland or a ship at sea."

  "That would invite retaliation," Kilpatrick said. "And they won't, can't really, discriminate between us and the Sons. They'd invite destruction down on all of us. Send orders immediately that all levels of our people are to oppose any strikes into the Pacific. If it takes sabotage to avoid it then I don't care if they have to crater runways or damage assets to prevent it. Whatever it takes."

  Bellini nodded, and tapped a few lines in his hand-held. "I had the orders composed, anticipating you might order exactly that."

  "Absolutely. We need to head off another spectacular failure like Pensacola." Kilpatrick said.

  "Do you want him finished off?" Colonel Bellini asked. "It was obviously foolish to engage him in anything approaching a 'fair' fight. The devil has those filthy gene mods, and he's quick as a literal snake. But I can get a man there who will just shoot him down like a dog, even if it's suicide. If we are stuck with the blame for it we can at least take charge of the game and show a win."

  "Can you?" Kilpatrick asked. "The Chinese tried exactly that direct sort of assassination a while back and failed. The price of success has gone up too. I have reason to believe finishing Singh off would be as terrible a mistake as sinking their ship. Let me show you a video that aired in Japan the next day. As far as I know it hasn't been translated or released in English. I find it telling she hasn't tried to see it distributed wider at all. So it's not a propaganda piece. The Lewis woman happens to be fairly fluent to speak to the reporter in Japanese, but the faithful who sent this to me had it captioned. Apparently Lewis knows the reporter. She may not even have seen it as an interview, but was just talking to an old friend."

  "Here it is. Take a look at this."

  Kilpatrick started the video toward the end, after the duel and the accidental death of the beam dog, complete with all the horror of the medical personnel trying and failing to save him. The camera’s viewpoint showed Adzusa turning away from that scene, when April Lewis approached and hugged her, ignoring the video rig sitting on her shoulder. Maybe she had briefly forgotten it was on.

  "Do you intend to avenge the murder of this iron worker?" Adzusa asks.

  "It's awful, but it's not my concern," April insists, a serious expression on her face but not angry. "He has relatives, or the Assembly can seek retribution if he was a citizen. His killer is dead," April says, looking back at the dead Warrior nobody had bothered to cover. "You can't kill him twice."

  "Well yes, but he did announce he was one of God's Warriors," Adzusa remarked.

  "That's bothersome," April agreed. "I should have burned him down where he stood when he announced that to the Assembly. He was declaring himself no better than an assassin. But it was so unexpected I didn't think through all the implications right away. I've been counseled that I would have looked terrible to the public to do that, but it's a mistake I won't make again.

  "He didn't say plainly that he'd been sent. But how many people have access to an assassin's weapon like these poisoned knives? We saw the Sons of Liberty as just a front for the old Patriot Party. They seemed a greater enemy before, but it's obvious now that one is no better than the other. If they ever kill Jeff, I'll send them all straight to hell."

  Adzusa seemed alarmed at that. She had some experience of April. "You don't mean that metaphysically...do you?" she asked in a frightened voice.

  "No, I mean I'll drop four or five billion megatons of thermonuclear fire on the scum," April promised, looking Adzusa straight in the eye. Still seemingly unaware of the camera.

  The camera had her in extreme close up, face alone framed from an angle, and she still wasn't angry, more grim, with narrowed eyes. The lack of really hot emotion was all the more frightening. Bellini noticed the newswoman, knowing her, didn't question that she had the means.

  General Kilpatrick cut the video there. "That's the relevant part. Do you doubt that woman in the least? Do you want to bet a half billion lives and the existence of your nation on it?"

  "She meant it...stone cold serious," Bellini agreed. "She's a monster to be able to contemplate it."

  "That's interesting. At what point does it become monstrous? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? A million? Do we need to kill this man? He's not contending with us for North America, it's just...offensive that he even exists. I'm not sure now is the time to worry about that. Whether you believe her or not, I'm ordering you to leave them alone. I believe her and I won't take the risk."

  * * *

  The Quiet Retreat really was quieter than the Fox and Hare. April had made fun of it a few times, not unkindly, but teasing. She found it pleasant tonight. You could talk without feeling you were ruining the act or music for others. They laid it out to cut the noise from one table to the next, and the entire room was sound deadened more. You could still hear the music. In fact you heard it better without the background hum of activity and whispered talk. Perhaps her tastes were changing too.

  Carlos and Sophia were at a premium booth or banquette, she to the inside and he stood to give April a slight bow and shake Jeff's hand. The Patsitsas were not in evidence which made April feel special. They hadn't gotten drinks, so perhaps they hadn't been there long, but April couldn't imagine a waiter trying to give Carlos the hurry-up.

  When the waiter returned he had a roll along cooler for a magnum of champagne. He proceeded to decant it without any discussion, so Carlos had already arranged it.

  "You seemed to have a taste for it," he said to April by way of explanation.

  "Oh, thank you. It's still pretty scarce," April said. "We have a lot more freight coming up, but it's so expensive I feel guilty to take it off the menu for the paying customers at my own place. Maybe in another year we won't run out of things like this between shuttle runs."

  "I've heard Jeff is working at it diligently," Carlos said.

  "We have an ocean landing platform now," Jeff said enthusiastically," and we seem to be getting a foot in the door to get normal landing rights in a few countries."

  "Indeed, that's as it should be. If you would like to add Spain to the list I have the name of a fellow in the appropriate ministry who'd welcome speaking with you," Carlos said.

  April looked astonished. "I thought you were on the outs and carefully keeping a quiet low profile, so they don't cut your retirement allowance off."

  "We certainly were," Carlos agreed, smiling. "But it seems they want to have something here, not a real embassy, because with the Assembly that's hardly workable. Not even an official consulate. But they want a conduit of some sort
to contact both what few officials you have, like Eduardo Muños, or Jon Davis, or local business people, such as..." he indicated both April and Jeff, with an inclusive wave.

  "So, you are sort of back to being semi-retired now?" April asked amused.

  "Well, they were already paying for us to be here," Carlos pointed out. "They just boosted our remittance a bit and then asked nicely if we'd have a word with you. They were at least kind enough to show the carrot first instead of the whip. I approve actually, it's an efficient use of resources, and it gives me a hair more confidence some politician won't cut us off as a show of cost savings."

  "I'll be sure to contact your man," Jeff promised. And that was the last they spoke of business.

  * * *

  Billy Costa was ready to be back home. Seeing the ocean was interesting for about ten minutes the first day. Then he wondered why people got all poetic about it. Over the next few days he did see it in different moods and colors. Right at sunset it could be pretty for a few minutes. He even saw some decent waves come up one day with a bit of foam, but no real storm.

  Li's ketch picked him up while Billy was there. Now that was a pretty boat and complex in ways he wasn't sure about, as far as the function. They used the sails, but he was pretty sure they made it look easy with long experience. It didn't escape his notice it wallowed back and forth on waves he could barely feel on the Isle of Hawaiki. The Isle was so big it was like a habitat more than a vehicle. He had to stop moving and grab the rail to be aware of any rolling motion.

  The food on the Isle was pretty good. They had a grill on the deck outside the galley that let them cook over a real charcoal fire. The beef was a treat, except they served it so often he was getting tired of it, something he never expected. Pretty much everything was frozen, but of good quality. They had more potatoes and rice than he was used to, and lots of sweet drinks and tea. But the cook apparently didn't know how to make a sauce that didn't pour out of a bottle, and their coffee didn't impress him.