April 2: Down to Earth

by Mackey Chandler

  "NASDAQ trading finished the peak period up slightly, after heavier gains during the European business day. Traders are forecasting continued gains, through the long Pacific Rim trading day."

  "In Space News - Award winning National Geographic cinematographer, Gerald Williams, caught this striking confrontation, awaiting Lunar transfer at New Las Vegas."

  The wide angle view showed the public seating area and the row of com booths behind it. All quiet and normal, then one of the booths lost its privacy and two plain clothes Earthies, with a decidedly military look, zeroed in on it aggressively. The fellow inside pulled one of those little screwdrivers out with the pocket clip, like techies carry to adjust controls and instruments and did something to the door control, locking the men out.

  "Do you know something Sugar? I have no idea how he did that," Easy observed. "I can't even picture what the door closure on a public booth looks like. That would be handy to know."

  The agent on the right looked back over his shoulder, scanning the area and then, apparently seeing no danger, turning back. Then April landed, right in line with the camera view, on the last row of seats closest to the them. She hunkered down and peered over the seat back at the men and her mouth worked saying something softly. The camera zoomed in on her and the trio at the booth behind, the camera man seeing some potential for action, unlike the dismissive agent. The agent started rapping on the glass with the butt of his weapon and the camera swept across the crowd briefly showing some faces upset and some still indifferent, then panned back to April quickly. The camera was still centered on her, not the agents at the booth behind her. April swiveled over the seat back and launched herself, not in a flat tackle, but rolled over, spreading her legs to grab the near agent around the waist.

  "She shouldn't have done that," Easy complained after she was on the man's back, with her pistol jammed under his ear. "She was exposed in the air and couldn't return fire for a moment there, when she rolled over. I have to talk to her about that. It was way too risky."

  "Well, what should she have done?" Ruby asked.

  "She should have braced herself on the chairs and burned the guy down with the gun in his hand and then the other one too, if he did anything at all but throw his hands up in surrender."

  "Wouldn't that have looked great, to shoot him in the back on video?" Ruby pointed out. "Most people would view that as cold blooded murder."

  "This isn't a Hollywood video. The man was a legitimate target once he had a weapon in his hand. I want April home in one piece. She's too valuable to get herself shot, trying to be fair to some Security goon."

  "I'm sorry," he added in a moment, "you're right, it would have looked terrible to the vast majority of people, who've never been shot at."

  On the screen, the agent on the left was pointing the wrong end of his pistol at April menacingly. His partner squatted just a hair at the motion anyway.

  "What an ass," Easy judged. "Would have served him right if she just reached across and squeezed the trigger since he was offering. No," he agreed again with Ruby, before she could voice it. "The public wouldn't like her doing that either, but it would be great tutorial, about not whipping a gun out and waving it around to scare people, when you don't know which end of it to grab. Oh crap, here comes the cops," he nodded at the screen again and continued watching. The camera man finally got the audio turned up, so they could hear too.

  "Is the older cop really as unconcerned as he acts?" Ruby wondered.

  "I'm not sure," Easy admitted. "He's either very, very, good, or very, very, stupid."

  They watched it progress, until Don renounce his citizenship and got enough audio to follow it. When he flicked his citizen's card away, Easy whistled.

  "That's not going to play well in North America at all," Easy predicted.

  They didn't edit out April mugging for the camera and when they passed through the security gate, they were too far away to hear April threatening the station. Then they were gone and the cameraman panned back to the security people, still arguing at the com booth. The audio was even better now, because they were raising their voices.

  "They're going to get away!" the senior Earthie protested.

  "They have gotten away," the older station cop pointed out reasonably. "I'm just happy they didn't leave your bloody corpses behind, after shooting up a public area and breaching pressure. I'm not about to let you chase after them, so you can still turn it into a disaster."

  "We're Homeland Security. You're obligated to assist us. I demand your weapon and you need to immediately call ahead and keep them from undocking."

  "And you're obligated to confirm your identity. Let's see your ID and we'll check it out."

  "They took our ID, along with our weapons, damn it!" he yelled.

  "Then I'm afraid you're undocumented intruders, near a primary security area. If you'd only checked in with us, before conducting operations on our station, we'd already know who you are. Now you'll have to come in to Security with us, for a very thorough identity check and have some form of documentation issued before you can wander around the public cubic again." The younger cop was pulling some restraints from his belt kit.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the Earthie asked, looking at the restraints absolutely incredulous.

  "Protocol for undocumented intruders is to transport them in restraints." he answered. "If you're Homeland Security you should know that. You guys are the ones imposed that rule on us and we don't have any discretion about it. I don't suggest you resist and make a bad situation even worse."

  The Earthie grabbed left handed for the older cops Taser. The difference in zero G skills was quickly obvious. The old cop grabbed his wrist and kicked away with both feet, snapping the man's arm first straight and then whipping it back in an arc. He screamed briefly when it dislocated. His partner was clawing at the younger cop's tangle gun, which was pointless, as it needed at least three meters range, for the net to open up when fired. The cop, both hands occupied, head butted him hard and there was a spray of bright blood from his broken nose, that fanned out in the zero G.

  By then the old cop had his Taser out and shot the man on his partner in the back, not even hurrying. The one with the dislocated shoulder had also been yanked off his toe hold and used by the older cop as a throw weight to get himself back on deck. He was wind-milling his good arm futilely, to get back within reach of the deck. Being caught drifting, without a hold, was a real newbie error. He had nothing to throw and potentially would have to do what they called a huff and puff - blowing air for the jet action, to push himself back to the deck if there was nobody rescued him.

  The old cop turned back and brought the Taser down hard. The snap of the collar bone, breaking on the side opposite the dislocated arm, was audible. That stopped that nonsense, but even Easy winced, when he screamed shrill as a little girl again. The fellow had both arms disabled, but still didn't have the sense to keep his mouth shut, screaming a stream of abuse at the cop. The old boy didn't look mad, just resigned and a flash of alarm passed over the Earth agent's face briefly, when the cop lifted the Taser point blank to his face and stunned him senseless.

  "Ouch, what a headache that'll be. He's probably going to get a reprimand for stunning him like that," Easy concluded.

  "Still had both feet didn't he?" Ruby objected.

  "Yeah, but a grounder can't do much with them. I was home on leave once and pecking at the com terminal with my foot and you can't believe how the family harassed me for days about it. If I'd grabbed a pen with my toes and made some notes, they would have sold me to a freak show. But that would be the reasoning he should put forth, if they question it."

  Once the Homeland agents were trussed up with cable ties, the vid ended.

  "How about those Earthies? Are they in trouble for resisting station security?"

  "Nah," Easy laughed, "they're in trouble for not getting away with it. They got their butts whooped twice in a few minutes. Once by a little girl and a vac
uum rat who didn't look like much and then again by a couple station cops. Homeland Security looks down on them like rent-a-cops. I'm afraid they'll be lucky to get work doing crowd control at a Dairy Queen opening now. That vid answered your question though. The old cop? He's good," Easy smiled.

  Chapter 11

  Commander Gial was filling out reports, in what was still called the ward room of the Arch de Ciel. There was no enlisted men's mess to distinguish it from, because every man aboard was an officer. Even the three who shared duty shifts as cooks. But the traditional usage continued. It was one of the few comfortable places to work on board. He used the thin screen on the wall and avoided his so called cabin, which was just slightly larger than a hot slot rental bed and was only spacious compared to a coffin. The coffee maker was just behind the head of the table, so he didn't have to bother someone to run it to his quarters. They were on long count to leave and he had a new man Émile on lock watch, guarding the dock entry to the vessel. He had a senior man Anton, unobtrusively keeping a watch on the newbie as a backup.

  When he got a call from the new man, it rang alarm bells in his mind. "Commander, we have visitors on the dock, asking permission to come aboard," the newbie reported to him. That was unusual and he decided to see for himself. The older officer should have stepped in and handled the matter, unless it really did require his attention. He shut the screen down and clipped his coffee to the table edge. The deck inside the lock was small, because most of that level was taken up with storage. Not only was it close to the main lock, with the biggest dimensions to make loading quick, but it was at the center of gravity of the ship. That meant laying in, or using supplies, changed the moment arms of the ship less. The trade off, was proximity to the lock made theft easier, so there was extensive security for all the bins and lockers, including being within sight of the live guard. The older man doing back up, could reasonably be there doing inventory, so the new man didn't necessarily know he was being evaluated and baby-sat.

  When Gial got there though, his experienced hand, Anton, had given up any pretext of disinterest and had joined Émile at the lock. The official guard was standing legs spread and toes in a grab bar, so he was basically filling the doorway, facing out inside the lock. This was the only lock on the vessel large enough for a man to stand in without bending over. He had on not a full dress uniform, but a duty uniform that included colorful insignia, not muted or camouflaged for combat and a bright beret, but no gloves or special dress belt or holster. He wore a pistol in an open, functional holster.

  The senior man had joined him at the lock, oriented the opposite way, off center a bit. He had no weapon, but what you could not see from the dock side, was a short submachine gun racked on the inner side of the hull, beside the lock's outer doors. That was at Anton's feet, or the guard's overhead, accessible to them both.

  Outside were two men, an older and a younger, in casual clothing. The young one was clutching a small bag and looked frankly frightened. The older had a large soft bag, that must have a sticky bottom, because it was on the deck at his feet and wasn't drifting off.

  "Hello I am Gial DeCuir, Master," He offered his hand to the older fellow and got a gentle touch to his palm that said the man had been above the atmosphere a long time, for it to be so natural.

  "I'm Christian Mackay of station security and this is my co-worker Dan Holt. We're seeking asylum on your vessel. We expect to be arrested shortly by Homeland Security on political charges, if we can't get off the station. I'm afraid if you don't offer us shelter, our lives will be forfeit. There's not another foreign vessel at dock since the Happy Lewis departed and you are our only hope."

  "My! political charges?" Gial wondered aloud. "Do you know specifically what sort of political charges? They're not just ordinary criminal charges?" He wanted it spelled out very clearly. He wasn't interested in helping someone evade justice.

  "We received notice on our pads to turn ourselves in for arrest. We are accused of treason, armed rebellion, assault of Federal officers, acting as unregistered foreign agents, conspiracy, unlawful flight, harboring and aiding fugitives, association with terrorist organizations, abuse of prisoners, dereliction of duty and theft of government property." He stopped and smiled, incongruously. "That's just today," he added. "And we are fleeing arrest. Successfully so far."

  Gial liked it in a fellow, that he could joke while the hangman slipped the noose on.

  "So are any of these other charges true? He asked seriously.

  "Yes, I have stolen my Taser here," he said patting it. "Or at least I will, if I take it off the station. I'd understand if you don't want it on your ship. I'd be happy to just lay it on the dock, but I thought I might need it to get here." He suddenly figured something out from Gail's manner. "You haven't been monitoring the news services, have you?"

  "Well, no. Not at all..." he was starting to reply, but the fellow whipped out his com pad and told it, "Retrieve news - BBC - Space - National Geographic - NLV - confrontation." He turned it around and offered it to Gial. Gial noted that the younger man Dan was getting very nervous, looking down the docks. Also his own man, Émile, did not allow himself to be distracted from his duty, to look at the pad. That was excellent.

  He watched video on the pad, as April and her friend Don he had met earlier, disarmed the two Earth agents, then the fight between these two station cops in front of him and the same agents.

  "That's it?" he asked incredulous. "As far as I can see you were following procedure. Is this all the charges are based on? I don't see how you could have accepted their identity, when their papers were gone before you arrived. Are you sure you don't want to go back and defend yourselves? It seems to me they have a poor case."

  "If we could count on the rule of law anymore we would. But we humiliated these agents and they depend on fear to operate, not law. We'd never get to stand before a judge. They'll have to make an example of us and I have no desire to be their prisoner. We've had to work with these people and heard too many bragging stories about how they break prisoners, or just make them disappear. I'm too old for that. I'd never survive."

  "Where would you want to go?" Gial asked. "We have no accommodations for passengers and a duty schedule to follow. If I take you aboard, it will probably create all sorts of diplomatic problems, way beyond my level of authority."

  Christian spread his hands in supplication, looking terribly sad. "We'll go to any port not under USNA authority. We'll transfer to any non-USNA ship that will take us from you. We would like to end up in Home eventually, but we'll go to France, or even to Luna, if that's where we can go now. We can even pay for passage if that makes it easier, but we're asking for humanitarian reasons. Surely your country will give refuge if a man reasonably expects to be tortured and killed. What are the European Union Laws?" he asked.

  Gial realized he didn't know. He'd never had a refugee situation, before. That was more an Earth problem and he wasn't trained for it. He might be in bigger trouble, for refusing the man for all he knew.

  Three men came easing down the dock, pulling themselves along the hand rail. The young man Dan in front of him looked ready to bolt, but Christian laid a hand on his forearm and calmed him. Once he was sure the young man wouldn't run, he picked his bag up. He made no move for his weapon at all.

  The lead man of the three landed tight between the station cops, smiling in satisfaction. The other two landed on each side. "You two are under arrest. You're to be transported groundside to be interrogated, which is a personal disappointment for me, but you'll have the joy of my company until I put you on a shuttle." He had a hasty bandage taped on his nose, still dark with blood that kept seeping and a wad of cotton in one nostril. It gave his voice a nasal twang. Gial knew from the video he'd been stunned just three hours ago, on top of having his nose broken, so he must have a throbbing headache. All of them had been stunned in training and he knew you didn't just shrug it off this quickly. Of course the other agent was much worse off, probably in a hospital
bed for a few days.

  The bandaged one had a plastic cable restraint in his left hand and their manner said all three were confident these two had no place to run. First though he said, "I'll take that," and reached across him, to relieve Christian of his bag. Rather than yield it, Chris gave it a straight arm shove, than made it hit and stick on the deck beside Émile, inside the lock. The Earth agent had a look of irritation flash across his face and he casually backhanded Christian across the face hard, with a long sweeping slap he made no attempt to hide coming.

  He knew Chris was in no position to duck, or defend himself and he did it with such obvious relish that it shocked Gial, despite what he had just been told about the Security goons. Everyone froze for a heartbeat at the loud crack. Chris swayed back on his foot hold, but held on. The side of his face was instantly bright red.

  "It's going to be a long wait for the shuttle smart ass. A long hard wait for you." He bent over into the lock and grabbed the bag straps

  As he leaned over and into the ships volume, Émile mirrored his motion with his pistol, bringing it up and out, without hesitation or consultation. Jamming it right between the man's eyes, over the discolored bandage. The Click! Click! Click! of him rolling the hammer back with his thumb, was amazingly loud. The Earthie froze and appeared to be holding his breath.

  "You have crossed the line, into our sovereign vessel, sir," he informed him. "If you so much as twitch funny, I will blow your damn brains back over the line, to join your worthless ass."

  That wasn't exactly the official protocol for challenging a trespass. But Gial was so impressed with the junior's decisiveness and the effectiveness of his heart felt delivery, that he decided to let it pass. He was concerned though, as he could see his finger on the trigger. It indicated how very close to shooting he was, as he was trained in trigger discipline. Meanwhile, Anton had leaned over and scooped up the submachine gun from its rack and was nestling it in his arms. That chilled any silly ideas the other two had.