Leaving Earth Vol. 1 (Leaving Earth Omnibus)

by Kaal Alexander Rosser

  Grum laughed. 'OK, mate. Yeah, sure, you betcha. But it's gonna be pizza.'

  'I can handle pizza. Call it a celebratory pizza for my temporary promotion…'

  'You got a brevet! AVP?' Grum stuck his glass out towards Stew and they clinked.

  'Yup. Steve was actually the one to come in to tell me, weirdly. Then I got an email from an HR drone named Kaity Whoseewhatsit…'

  'Cobb.'

  'That's the badger. Anyway, she confirmed that for the duration of your absence from the post, I was acting-AVP in charge of blah blah blah.'

  'Going to be OK with that? The boss is on a bit of a tear.'

  'I get the feeling that he's got his hand full dealing with your lawyer.' Stew pointed a thumb sofa-wards. 'I'm guessing that was he?'

  'Yeah. Just going over the investigation material. Making sure he had my angle on it before we prepare a full response. The way he was talking, I don't think there is all that much to worry about.'

  'Hope you're right, mate.'

  'As do I. I'll get the pizzas.'

  'I'll get the movies.'

  To Grum's surprise, he was not the only one having a relationship that was not entirely straight-forward.

  In fact, if anything, he was in an easier position: Vann didn't want to get married. At least, not yet. Grum did. Grum very much did. To that end, though, Grum had been dropped some fairly anvil-sized hints on how to sort things out.

  Stewart was in a slightly different kettle. Amy wanted to get married. So did Stewart. It was just that — as Grum heard it — as soon as that thought had been voiced it seemed that now was the appropriate time.

  Fortunately have found a way of coping with their predicament: they are drunk.

  'Dingoes kidneys,' said Grum. 'What is it with 'em? Eh? Wazzat?'

  'Didn't say anything. Burped.'

  'Ah. So?'

  'What?'

  'What is it with 'em?'

  'Women!'

  'Well, yeah, s'obvious that, innit? 's a cop-out, that is.'

  'Nah, mean it. Tried figgerin' it out and keep jus' comin' back to,' Stewart shrugged, theatrically, well as theatrically as he could after several pints of a good strong porter, 'women. Jus'… Women!'

  'Maybe. I mean, look, I mean, I wanna get married, right. Vann won't have it! Not meant to be that way round. Meant t' be like you and Amy. Amy wants to be married and you runnin' scared.'

  ''m not runnin'!' Stewart protested. 'Jus' wanna get things settled a bit first. Wish Amy was a bit more like Vann in tha' resp-pect.'

  'What pregnan' you mean?'

  'Nah, not tha'!'

  'See!' said Grum, triumphantly. 'Runnin'!'

  'Wha'? Nononono. I wouldn' mind if she was, like, but what about getting a bit of bunce in the old sky-rocket before we go blowin' it all on a family!'

  'Stewart, mate, 'ow much are you earnin' now?'

  'Good point, well made. Guess... I'm jus' a bit 'fraid. Kinda like, I've only ever been responsibubble to me for m'own screw ups, but if we get married it won't be jus' me.'

  'Maybe she'll stop you screwin' up.'

  'True. 's more sensibler'n me.'

  'Wha' 'bout Vann, though. She still won't marry me.'

  'Maybe if you get on the things she's said about: job sorted out, proper place, an', an', stuff, she might go for it. Might be a test, mate. They do that.'

  'True. 'm gonna finish this an' crash out, mate,' Grum waved the remains of a beer.

  'Me too. Might put on a little Strauss to crash to.'

  'Asi hablo Zarathustra?'

  'Yarp.'

  'Good call, and good night.'

  'Night, mate.' Stewart waved and sank out of sight into the sofa as Grum left the room.

  When Grum surfaced the next day, he felt remarkably chipper. Considering that he drank a fair few pints the previous evening, he also felt rested and ready to be about setting his world to rights. He threw on a gown and made for the kitchen.

  The sofa was Stew-less, but the mini-pin — or what was left of it — was still on the dining table, so it was safe to conclude that Stew would be back at some point. Grum heard the coffee machine coughing and stuck his head round the corner to see what was what.

  Stew had been considerate upon waking, it seemed, and he could not have been gone that long. The machine was about halfway done filling the pot.

  Grum dashed back to dive in the shower while the coffee was finishing.

  Washed, dressed and with a mug of hot coffee, it finally occurred to Grum to check the time.

  Ah, well, that explains it, he thought. It was just after ten in the morning, so he must have slept well over nine hours.

  It would not be seemly to chase the building manager about the apartment, yet, so he would be better off going over what was in the investigation report, again, while the coffee worked its magic.

  The phone rang. It was Zak.

  'Morning, Grum!'

  'Morning, Zak. I give you fair warning that I am only midway through First Coffee.'

  'Ah. Want me to call back?'

  'No, it's OK. I might be a little slower than usual, though.'

  'Fair enough. I know it's the weekend and all, and I really don't want you to think this is normal, but I have an idea for the whole hearing thing.'

  'Uh-huh. Go on.'

  'I don't know if you know, but quite often building a case is not simply about the facts. It's about the narrative you put around those facts to engender emotion in people. I suggest that we use USSMC's own history, and the public personality of your CEO to counter the last outstanding point.'

  'I'm intrigued. Tell me.' Grum took another sip of the coffee. It would be easier to listen to Zak talk than to try and contribute.

  'OK. So, the CEO is a risk-taker. Five years ago everyone thought he was a complete loon. He took a bunch of companies — large and small — doing various different things. All exciting stuff. The DOJ got involved when several other companies complained that merging all these companies together was anti-competitive, but the court of public opinion won the day. Everyone thought it was ridiculous. Kelvin Goldstein was on record as saying he wanted to build fleets of space shuttles, but didn't want to get into the space tourism business. He wanted to build more space stations, but not as hotels, only for science and engineering purposes. It sounded nuts.'

  'I kinda remember some of that. It did sound nuts.'

  'Right. But he did it anyway, and as far as I know has kept the programmes going. Now, this all suggests to me a personality which is not going to be in favour of stifling growth within the company.'

  'Sounds reasonable.' The coffee was clearing away the last of the sleep fog and Grum could realise that Zak did, indeed, have a valid point.

  'I thought so,' said Zak, laconically. 'Anyway. Given that, I plan to build a narrative that you and your team have been acting in the "finest traditions of the company" and it's your boss who is being misguided in this.'

  'Isn't that a dangerous line to take?'

  'Not if I get the story right. If I can make the VP's actions seem small-minded and mean without actually saying the words…'

  'Then the hearing might just dismiss the whole thing. Fair enough. Give it a go. Call me if you have anything more you ant to talk about.'

  'Sure thing. Hope the second cup of coffee does the trick.'

  'Cheers. Speak later.'

  'Later.'

  Grum dropped the phone on the sofa and went to get a refill of his coffee.

  Chapter 18

  AS he had half-expected, Grum received a query from the building manager on the allocation of the three-bed apartment. Very polite. Very respectful. But with the underlying message of: you only need a two-bed when the baby arrives.

  Grum sent back his reasoning, and this time included his request that the third bedroom be converted to an office at his personal expense.

  That was enough for the building manager, it seemed. She asked for his specifications for the office and said that the apartment wo
uld be ready in two weeks.

  That, it seemed to Grum, was a good start. He was aware, though, that he was only acting on Vann's expressed wish and not on anything he had come up with himself.

  Grum took himself into the kitchen, poured himself the last dregs of coffee from the pot, started a fresh one, and paced.

  The office was a nice touch, he thought, but it was only an extension, not really original thinking. New thoughts, and probably a new mode of thinking were needed. He could not change his nature or style of thought, that would not work out well. He was an analyst, damnit. He should bloody well analyse. He had clearly missed a lot of clues if Vann had been that worked up in so short a conversation. So what was he missing? Pace, turn.

  Find the critical path. He was taking actions, now, which were predicated on no analysis at all. They were probably the right ones, because Vann had told him they were right, but what was the basis for these actions? Pace, turn, stop.

  The basis, you knucklehead, is that you have, in fact, been thinking very much the way you told Stew off for thinking, he thought. Grum sipped at the coffee and looked expectantly at the new pot. Only a the barest dribbles had, so far, made it through the filter. Pace.

  Yes. Selfish. Egocentric. Stuck in the mode which was predicated on doing the best for himself and not accounting for the larger scope his thinking needed to encompass. Pillock. Well, that was identified, now what? Completely sublimating his ego was unhealthy, that way lead back to the dark and huddled place. Depression. No. Ego, and even arrogance, were useful tools, but they had to be in service to something. Until now, they had been in service to his own career and plans. Ah. And there we have it. Thank you, Vann, for knowing me better than I know myself. That was it. Grum paused in his pacing to gently rest the coffee mug on the counter while his other hand slapped his forehead, and was slid down to cover his eyes.

  He used to have plans, but now he had priorities as well. So, if the framework was to be changed such that the aspects of his personality which had simply been driving forward his own plans, were now to be used in supporting the priorities… Where did that lead?

  The most obvious consequence was the one he had already taken… Wasn't it? Actually, no. It wasn't. The most obvious things were the actions which acknowledged the shared support and responsibility — and risk — in being part of a family. The shared apartment was part of it, to be sure, but neither the most basic, nor the simplest. He glanced again at the, now half-full, coffee pot.

  Fuck the coffee. Grum pushed his mug away and ran back to the kitchen table. He opened a chat window on his personal account, and sent a message to Zak Winter: I need a Will, sharpish.

  Next, he looked up the various insurances, assurances, and death-in-service documents in his Personnel folder. Copying the links into a new email, he addressed it to Kaity Cobb and asked that whatever needed to be done to change the current next-of-kin to Lavanya Patel, please be put in motion. Likewise, the current disbursement or beneficiary arrangements for these should be changed to reflect seventy-five percent in favour of Lavanya Patel, and the other twenty-five percent remain with his mum.

  It was not about the money, exactly. Vann wouldn't really need it. It was a recognition of a symbiosis which formed a new organism from the cells of previously siloed entities…

  Another thought hit him as he walked back into the kitchen to retrieve his coffee and top it up from the now full pot. That was marriage. Screw the label, bits of paper, and tax benefits to the sticking post! That was what Vann had really been talking about. She would probably sign up to "getting married" once he had shown that he could be married. Without the interdependency of that symbiotic relationship, it didn't matter if you got your signed writ from the fairy king saying you were married, it was just a tax dodge.

  The phone rang, Zak again.

  'Yeah-lo,' said Grum.

  'Hello, yourself. You don't have a Will?' asked Zak.

  'Not so's you'd notice. Certainly nothing recent, and not one that includes Vann.'

  'Ah, I see. Well, I'm not an expert in the area, but I know someone who could turn one round pretty quickly, if you're willing to pay an unreasonable hourly rate for working on the weekend.'

  'Unreasonable I can handle. Nothing fancy, mind. I just want to leave everything to Vann.'

  Silence greeted that statement.

  'I don't understand why, but that wasn't the right thing to say, was it?' said Grum into the void on the other end of the call.

  'You're about to have a child, Grum.'

  'With Vann, yes. I'd noticed, I have to admit.'

  'Don't be like that. What if you both die? It's something you have to think about. Especially when you both work together, and even more so when there is a greater risk of industrial accident than the norm.'

  'Oh. Yeah, sorry. I'm still getting used to the whole thinking-as-a-family thing.'

  'Not to worry. It's fairly easy to write a Will which accommodates that situation. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the firm's partners has a boilerplate draft of one. That's who I was going to call for this, by the way. Hence the fee being steep.'

  'Oh, blimey! Well, if you think that's best. I guess what I'm really after is most protection and least hassle for whomever in the family is left behind when I go.'

  'Now your talking, lad!'

  Lad, thought Grum, amused. He's only just in his forties! 'Is there anything else I should be thinking of when it comes to this?'

  'I'll leave it to Ms Atkin to detail things, then go through it with you. She'll suggest it, so I'll prime you, now. We will be happy to act as the executor. There is a fee associated, which normally comes out of the estate, but we as a firm will be able to do things like post any bonds which are required. It can also help to have an expert ready to deal with any complications…'

  'OK, Zak, OK! If Ms Atkin suggests it's a good idea, then I'll consider it, pending the discussion of the fee amount. Will that do?'

  'Yes, Grum, thanks. Before I go, though…'

  'Yes?'

  'I've been thinking, and there might be a case for being pre-emptive.'

  'How so?'

  'See… You know we talked about building the facts into an emotional argument?'

  'Sure. Yes.'

  'In this case, I think the argument might actually be strong enough to stop the proceedings in their tracks. If this were in court, I would be tempted to present to the judge for summary dismissal of the suit.'

  'That strong?'

  'Yep. Believe me, it's not often that that level of confidence crosses my thoughts, but with this drivel? Yes. I'll get to work on putting the whole argument together, but remember that even while you are still on paternity leave, I will probably advise that you send in a statement to the HR representative, in confidence.'

  'OK. Tell me when it's all ready to go and then brief me.'

  'Absolutely, I will, Grum. Good speaking to you.'

  'Speak soon.' The call ended.

  Grum went back to the kitchen for more coffee, then settled in to draft the specifications for the new apartment's office. Utilitarian, but comfortable.

  He would have to talk to Ben Abelson about anything else the flat would need for a new child. Babyproofing, he thought the term was. Well, thinking in new directions was all well and good, but if you didn't know something, you didn't know. You had to ask someone who did!

  Chapter 19

  A little while later, Stew walked back in carrying ingredients for something.

  'Lunch,' said Stew.

  'Cool. What is it?'

  'The meal at the middle of the day.'

  Grum did not dignify that with a response.

  'Just some stuff to put in wraps. Ooo, coffee.'

  'Cool. And help yourself,' said Grum, hearing Stew doing exactly that in any case.

  'Sooooo… I what have you been up to while I went shopping in Vegas?'

  'You went to Vegas? For groceries?!'

  'Not just for groceries. I went to visit some
jewellers.'

  'Well, well! Did you indeed?'

  'Indeed I did. And let me tell you that there are a lot of the buggers. Anyway. You?'

  'No. I didn't visit any jewellers,' said Grum, deciding to play Stew at his own game.

  Stew held his hands up. 'Uncle,' he said.

  'Fair enough. I requested a new apartment, did some heavy thinking, sent an email to Kaity, and spoke with Zak Winter a couple of times.'

  'No slouch, you! What were these multifarious activities in support of?'

  'The new apartment is obvious, I think. But the rest stemmed from the thinking. Let me share my thoughts with you, and see if you follow.'

  'Just as you say. But let me get lunch, then we can eat and talk.'

  'Plan!'

  When Vann came back to Grum's apartment on Monday, he had lunch ready. Most of the kitchen table, though, was covered with paperwork.

  'I've got some things which I need you to check and sign, love,' he said.

  'Hello, to you, too. I've had a lovely time with Amy and already starting to regret leaving.'

  Grum, feeling a little chagrined, but not wanting to give anything away, gave her a peck on the cheek and guided her to a chair at the table. 'Welcome back, love. Could you look these over while I grab the lunch?'

  'Oh, all right. If it's that important.' She pulled over the nearest pile of paper and Grum darted for the kitchen.

  There was a sound of scrabbling amongst the paper, then the chair being slid back, and more scrabbling, gaining in urgency. Grum grinned to himself, then schooled his expression, grabbed the lunch plates and went back into the other room. 'Everything OK?'

  Vann's expression was caught bouncing between a kind of shock and glee. There was a suggestion of excess moisture about the eye region. 'You figured it out.'

  'I figured it out,' Grum confirmed. 'At least, I think so. Somewhat.'

  'How?'

  'Analyst.'

  'Hah! I thought you'd do the apartment, but I'm so glad you've done the rest as well. Is there anything left?'