"The driver was one of the original refugees from Armstrong when they stole the rovers and escaped here in a group. His family has a large land holding and the family head is one of my peers. He requested to administrate justice as an family matter. Given he betrayed his blood kin and the head of household is my peer I let them have him. I haven't seen him since. I've no interest if he's dead or alive, free, enslaved or what. That's their affair now. I would not have walked him down to the grow rooms. I'd have shot him down right where you stand and made a mess for housekeeping."
Aaron nodded satisfied with that answer.
"That's not what I intend to do with you however," Heather said.
That wasn't anything Aaron wanted to hear.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" Aaron asked, but it wasn't hopeful.
"I'm going to let you go back to work. I'm told you are a skilled prep cook. You'll draw your wages and do as you please, generally. But you are barred by security from leaving Central on commercial conveyance or even going outside an airlock. You will have com, but every word monitored. Your drops will be watched and we'll see if Armstrong tries to establish contact again. Everybody you know and see will be aware you're a spy. You won't be able to scratch without us knowing."
"That's a death sentence all the same," Aaron objected. "I'm bait. They will assume I've turned. They can't imagine anything else, and they will find a way to reach me and kill me."
"Then you better hope we're really as good as you thought. And if you get a contact of any kind we're not going to say a word to you. It's up to you to assume we know and will let it happen unless you speak up and say you're afraid to make contact and want our protection."
"That's. . . are you sure I'm not too dangerous to have around?" Aaron asked, defiantly.
"You flatter yourself. We are good enough you won't get to me. Are you really going to kill the likes of Karl here or some other worker in a fit of spite to take somebody, anybody, with you?"
Karl really didn't like the sound of that, but he saw Aaron just deflate.
"They'll give you a day off after quizzing you," Heather said. "I understand it's very stressful." Security took it for a dismissal when Heather looked down, and led him away.
When they started taking the cuffs off Heather didn't even look up at him. Karl spoke up.
"Am I in trouble? You said I was on probation. Are you angry with me? I can't tell."
"Karl. . . I'm disappointed with you. To what shall I sentence you for being stupid? Do you want to be sent off to Earth? They will eat you alive down there. Go back to work. I can only hope you show more sense with some experience. Learn how to do useful stuff in the kitchen. It isn't forever. I don't know the head cook. Even if he's not nice, ask questions. For God's sake learn to ask questions when somebody asks you to do something as crazy as what Aaron just did. Will you do that?"
He just nodded yes, timidly, and let the cop lead him out.
Chapter 13
"The French! I should have known! The French sold the Brazilians the Helium 3."
Jeff looked rattled at April's outburst. She didn't usually shout like this.
"How could you possibly know?" Jeff demanded. "I have Chen paying bribes and pressuring people to find their source. I privately asked Jon to put the question to all his security people. I had Eddie pass the question to Jan on ISSII. I even asked Papa-san to keep an ear to the ground, and I hate to ask favors of him, because he always gets double back."
"I have my own sources," April said, with a dismissive wave.
"No, really. You enjoy being mysterious, and you have Chen terrified of you because he thinks you know what he's going to have for breakfast before he has decided, but I really want to know the how of this one," Jeff demanded.
April shrugged. She knew when Jeff wasn't going to drop it.
"Eric does courier work for Dave's shop. He runs parts and supplies from dock to the shop cheaper than they can send somebody. A couple days before Weir's drone flew they got a French shuttle at dock and he was there to pick up some other stuff. They had a hand carry cryo tank for Dave's and he volunteered to take it because he was headed there anyway. The crew turned him down and insisted on a hand delivery. He said the guy carried it in both hands like it was primary explosives instead of cryogenics. We know why better of course. It was a fortune in liquid helium 3, and those carriers are OK in zero G, but they are a this-side-up item in gravity or they have big vent losses sat upside down."
"If you mean the Lunar colony, that's not France anymore," Jeff objected. "They negotiated their independence."
"It's still Marseilles isn't it?" April asked. "They didn't even change the name. And I'm not sure they own any of their own shuttles. They didn't have any real revolution or fighting. It seems to me they're still pretty much French in culture. I expect they will still have a lot, a majority really, of the same interests."
"Maybe all true, but they aren't going to have a line straight into the French treasury anymore to tap them if they can't pay their own way. It's not surprising they are selling Helium or anything else they can to raise revenue. Look at their dealings with Heather."
Jeff frowned at a thought. "But that's been weeks ago," Jeff protested. "He just got around to telling you?"
"No, he drops little text messages on me all the time. Sometimes a couple a day, but I don't read them all. He isn't the only one. I have. . . a number of kids and warehouse workers and dock guys, all telling me anything odd they see."
Jeff ignored her reluctance to say exactly how big this network happened to be.
"This just didn't have the right key words to take it to the head of the list, for example he didn't know it was helium to mention that, and I didn't think to tag cryogenic to alert me. When I get time I try to go back and zip through them. I never just erase them, even if I don't read them word for word. Some are just things like - Have seen the owner of UltraChip meeting with the CEO of Gargantuan three times this week. Or - Z-Med had a full cart of cases shipped out today instead of the usual half cart. Must have been about a thousand boxes."
"You've never taken funds to support this," Jeff said. "You shouldn't have to pay for it out of your own pocket. No more than I pay Chen and his agents from my share."
"I don't have them on a set retainer like you do Chen," April said. "Most of the dock rats and kids know each other, and I gave Eric a half Solar for this. He'll brag about it, and I'm fine with that. Do you know how long it takes Eric to make a half Solar running courier and selling obsolete spex and stuff? It seems to be very efficient at motivating the rest of them to watch closely. I think it's quite cost effective."
"But this could come back on him, if all these people talk it around, and Dave finds out Eric talked about his business to you. He could drop using him for courier work."
"You don't think I told him what datum in the stream made me reward him do you?"
Jeff just looked confused. He couldn't imagine anything else. People needed some direction on what intelligence you wanted.
"My goodness, not only would people learn to avoid my sources, but if they thought they could guess what would get them paid they'd all start filtering. They don't have to know what, as long as they see there is an occasional big payout, they keep reporting. It's kind of like selling lottery tickets."
Jeff considered the dynamics of that. "And yet, if people go too long unrewarded they may lose heart and stop bothering. I'd think you would need to drop a small payment on them from time to time even if you aren't paying them a regular retainer."
"Jeff," April said, looking a little irked. "Have you ever hear the expression, 'Don't teach grandma to make cheese?' I've been doing this since before Heather ever introduced us."
"Oh. . . It's amazing," Jeff said. "If they'd just let him transport it, we'd never have known."
"Let that be a lesson," April agreed. "Just following routine can cover up a lot. I'd say the French must have been running trials with the tech they sold Heather for
quite awhile. There isn't that much He3 in regolith. Especially not in the common stuff on the mares."
"They probably ran through a couple or three generations of prototype machines," Jeff decided. "Even if they all worked to some degree and they kept them running they can't have that much helium. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they have to wait for enough fuel for a manned ship, and beyond that I know they aren't going to have enough for a series of regular launches. Not until we see the French harvesting the regolith on a big enough scale that Heather can see it from orbit."
"And Heather will be doing that herself within a year," April said. "I'm sure the French will watch what Central does too. But they have no reason to think we have the same priorities in what we harvest. They may discard some fractions. Heather mentioned that the He3 is difficult to store. Best we don't give them any clues that we are keeping everything."
"Heather needs to claim the better craters away from Central," Jeff said. "I'll mention it."
"Just drop one robot to work on it in a crater. That should be sufficient claim," April said.
"The French base just had a big transition in government," Jeff remembered. "I wonder if the new politician really understood what he was trading away when he bought those tunnel machines with this tech?"
"If not, I bet somebody has told him about it by now," April said.
* * *
There was no formal dining room on the Sandman. Neither did the ship's crew keep a separate mess from the civilians. No captain's table or division between crew and officers. Given rank inflation they were all officers anyway. A lot of passengers ate in their cabins. Happy, though not claustrophobic did want to get out of his cramped cabin. He used the lounge, took his meals in the common mess, and even used the cramped exercise room.
The ship was an oddity in that it had no national registration. There were three sister ships all jointly held by the nations sharing the Mars program. Happy vaguely remembered that they were chartered under the auspices of the United Nations, but had no idea what the current legal fiction was to allow the crew to be rotated among the members. Something similar to ISSII probably.
Happy hadn't even considered that he might not be held in much esteem on a UN vessel as a citizen of Home. When the UN had declared Home could not occupy a halo orbit in the vicinity of L2 because they hadn't assigned the location to them they ignored it. When they sent armed vessels past the moon however to enforce it however that was another matter.
The UN had lots of experience sending third world military into other defenseless third world nations to enforce their decrees. They usually were successful as well at spreading disease, looting and rape along the way in accomplishing that. They'd gotten so bold about it they thought they could do it to a technologically superior nation with orbital weapons.
The UN never really was officially disbanded. It simply ceased to exist over a few days because anything with their logo or a blue sign or helmet couldn't show itself to the sky without being blasted from orbit. Their third world thugs didn't have to be bombarded to disband. They ceased to be an asset to the organization the day after their first missed pay. Their real estate reverted as abandoned.
The first fellow to interrogate Happy about his politics over dinner got an earful. Happy was patient and tried to explain how things actually worked on Home to him. The fellow couldn't understand how Happy could not belong to some political party. That's just how things worked, even if you used a different word than party to describe your factions. After Happy explained that taxation was voluntary, and you simply did not get to vote on the budget if you didn't agree to subject yourself to tax, the fellow stopped asking any more questions. Happy got the impression the man might have thought he was making it all up.
But when another fellow asked to join him at the second dinner in the common mess, and asked similar questions he didn't think it was a coincidence. Somebody wanted to understand his politics. The fact he didn't really have much of any they would recognize as such was a real impedance.
The trouble with telling people the truth, when your truth is incomprehensible to them, is that they will think it a lie. That wouldn't matter if it was just your taste in music or how much money you make. But in something with sides in conflict like politics, their imagination will work overtime until they invent their own lie to fill the void. At best they will think you deceptive and at worst they will tag you as an enemy.
Both of his interrogators were nominal citizens of different Earth nations, but previous Mars residents headed back home. The conclusion Happy came to was he better make a report to the kids. This was the kind of long range thing they needed to be aware of. He had a supply of one time pads and composed a message. It went to Jeff, but he knew that a message to one was to all three of them.
I'm being quizzed excessively." Happy reported. "There appears to be an undercurrent of Martian politics beneath the veneer of polite neutrality from Earth politics. Martian politics that we had no idea existed. Home politics seem to puzzle them, so I have not really been recruited, just probed. I'm not sure if the fellows questioning me are even on the same team or opposites. But their questions were all framed by comparing Home to Mars rather than their Earthly associations.
"There are definitely undercurrents here of which you should be aware. When you get right down to it there is no other issue to pursue between them and Earth than the same one we had, independence. With us there were economic issues around the Rock, but Mars is a money sink. They have no production and are actively avoiding tourism, so any division with Earth has to be over philosophical issues. I not sure what those may be, and I refuse to reverse pump them reveal what they may be at this point.
One fellow did speak strongly about the superior quality of the colonists, so I suspect they may have a desire to isolate themselves. They have a long way to go, much further than the moon for example, before they could be self sustaining. They may ignore economics, but economics won't ignore them. However people can be completely impractical and pursue philosophies that ignore reality. I'm sure you can find many historic examples. I'll send more information when I am certain about it. But sending excessive encrypted messages they can't crack may worry them too. I don't want to look like a spy. If I want to just send normal chatty notes they'll be in the clear. Love you all." - Happy
"That's interesting," April said. "I have no idea how Martian recruits are selected. Happy didn't say much about that. He's so deeply qualified I didn't question him getting in. But maybe they have a clique in place that is favoring the selection of more of their own."
"There's only about two hundred of them. It's a pretty exclusive club any way you figure," Jeff said. "Happy mentions economics. I'm sure they have many academics, but I wonder if they have anybody with economics training? Why would you send any to Mars? The lack of any might be a gap in their skill sets they don't even recognize. I'll try to find out. There must be bios online."
"My grandpa is pretty good at getting along with people. He'll do OK," April decided.
* * *
"My goodness. Who is that Goddess out there in the dining room?" Karl asked Cook.
"You don't concern yourself with that me bucko," the head cook said, and frowned at Karl. "If you get weird with our public I'll stick you back in the kitchen. Hell, I'll stick you in the cooler. Are you going to make me regret letting you help at the counter?"
"Not at all. I'll behave, but tell me you didn't notice," Karl challenged him.
"I'm not dead, I noticed. But she's too young for me and too old for you, and way out of our class at any age. Don't you go making eyes at her or her friends there will straighten you right out even if I don't see. She's a pilot and you'd be noticing her friend if they weren't sitting beside each other. The guy with them is Heather's brother, so you'd do well to mind your manners with him too."
"He's in a suit liner. A dirty suit liner. You mean to tell me he's the Sovereign's brother and he works a regular grunt job?"
&nbs
p; "I'm telling you, there isn't a regular grunt job on this rock. Everything matters from how Heather decides to deal with Armstrong down to how you scrub out the stock pot. You still have some attitude, some Earth Think, and if you ever want to get past pot scrubbing and be my boss you better lose it."
"Be your boss? Don't you want to move on up and I'll never get past you?" Karl asked.
"I've been offered management," Cook said. "Turned it down. Sitting in front of a screen all day isn't my thing. I like cooking and working with my hands. Managing you useless loafers as is much management as I ever care to suffer. If I moved up who exactly would you pick, to inflict their cooking on these poor people?"
"Would you talk to me like that if you really ever thought I'd be your boss?" Karl asked.
"If you ever grow up enough to be my boss you'll look back and be embarrassed how true it was. Now hustle your butt back and get some plates before the last are gone." He just shook his head, disgusted Karl couldn't keep a stack of plates stocked.
Karl looked at the end of the line. There were only three plates, and he'd have sworn he just brought out a new stack. He was supposed to be watching that, where did they go? How did Cook keep everything that was happening in his head, time it all, and catch him out too? He hurried to the back.
* * *
"Do you want to come along and sit second seat while I take some measurements with this gravity modulator?" Jeff asked that evening.
"Yeah, I haven't had any flight time in months. Is this orbit to orbit? I have to get some lander time too or they'll be making me recertify," April complained.
"We can do both. We can leave here and declare we are doing a lunar insertion. If we announced we were headed to uncontrolled translunar space in a manned vessel everybody and their dog would know we were up to something. Once we're in lunar orbit we can tell Central control we are raising orbit to test some drive gear, without any time parameters. Home local and anybody snooping on traffic here will be out of the loop.
A Sudden Departure (April Book 9) Page 17
