A12 Who Can Own the Stars?

by Mackey Chandler

  Hoffman moved up to the ladder and turned to face his charges. He had the decency to look at Gunny and lift his chin a little in question. Gunny nodded yes.

  The first person in line fairly sprinted to the ladder when Hoffman motioned him forward. Hoffman didn’t watch him go up. He simply gripped the ladder and when the man reached the middle, he motioned the next person forward. He’d obviously counted the steps and was counting the ladder jiggles, nodding his head in time to them. Gunny still thought he was a creep, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a smart creep.

  Mackay above could be heard on the radio telling the boarders where to stand, or how to orient themselves.

  “One more,” he called out.

  Mackay swung out of the hold and hung on a grab-hold. The backs of two passengers filled the opening.

  “I don’t think we can fit another safely,” Mackay decided. “We have twenty-eight. I’m calling it full.”

  “I’ll get the ladder,” Gunny said. “Go on up to the lock and drop me a line.”

  Gunny went up the line hand over hand. It had knots on it but in this gravity and with his strength he didn’t need them. When he got to the level of the cargo hatch, he stopped and looked at Mackay’s packing job. It looked good and he lifted the top of the ladder to unhook it and let it fall to the ground.

  “You might want to drag that clear and back off,” he suggested to the Martians. They grabbed it and retreated without thanks or goodbyes. There were four of them that hadn’t fit in the hold. Hoffman was herding them back already.

  * * *

  “Watch yourselves folks,” Gunny told their passengers. “I’m going to have the pilot close the hatch. Be sure to stay clear, OK?”

  A couple looked over their shoulders and they crowded away as far as possible. The hatch closed without touching any of them. Gunny continued up to the lock, ignoring the recessed take holds in favor of the line.

  “We have a radio link in the hold if any of you need to tell us anything,” April broadcast to them on the suit frequencies.

  “I’m waiting on you two to take your seats to lift,” she told her security guys.

  They sat waiting, April nervous until her security announced they were buckled up.

  “We’ll slowly ramp up to a full g,” April told her passengers. “I’ll check with you when we reach that. If anybody is having any difficulty, I can hold that level. I’d rather increase it another quarter g if you can tolerate it.

  “Hringhorni, please relay to Phobos Control we are lifting and will notify them when we leave their control volume.”

  “Lift in ten seconds,” April told them in the hold. She didn’t want to surprise anyone. There was no outcry or complaint. She let it build to a full g over thirty seconds.

  “That’s a full g. Is everybody doing OK?” April asked.

  “I can’t believe I used to weigh this much all the time,” a woman’s voice replied. “If we have to go any heavier than this, I think I’ll have to sit down. I think I can do that and put my legs out between the others.”

  “Don’t try,” April said. “You might hurt yourself. Can you stay at this acceleration a couple more minutes?”

  “Yes, the gentlemen on either side are supporting me, thank you.”

  “Hold on two more minutes and we’ll be over a hundred- and fifty-kilometers altitude and we’ll transition to free fall,” April promised. “Hringhorni, we are jumping out ten k kilometers and will not need you further. See you back at the Moon after we discharge these folks. I’m leaving the com open so you folks hear what we are doing.”

  “Phobos Control, be advised I am exiting your control area in a few seconds,” she said with scant courtesy.

  “Freefall in ten seconds,” April called out immediately, and punched in the jump command. The drive shutdown a second after.

  “Johnson, would you take the comm, please?” April said as soon as they jumped. “I’d appreciate it if you would set up a jump to a trailing solar orbit behind Earth and do a long slow burn at four-tenths of a g to match velocity at the edge of Earth’s traffic control volume. Be sure to ease the burn on and warn our passengers so they can orient themselves. You can request clearance to approach and dock at ISSII.” She let out a big sigh of relief for being safely away from the Martians. She didn’t trust them at all.

  “Aye, working the problem,” Johnson said. “Passengers, be aware I’ll be gently turning the ship a couple of times but I will not accelerate without warning and when I do so it will be gradual so you can get positioned standing again and will not exceed what you’ve been used to on Mars. We will need to accelerate for about seventeen minutes to match velocities. If anyone has trouble standing that long speak up or sit while we are easing the acceleration on. I don’t suggest you wait until we are at full acceleration to sit down. As Miss Lewis pointed out, that increases the likelihood of injury. That should be happening in about five minutes from now.”

  “Mr. Johnson, a question please?” a voice said from the hold.

  “Direct that to Lady Lewis, please. I’m kind of busy flying.”

  “Lady Lewis?”

  “April is fine. Johnson is overly formal with me. What did you wonder and to whom am I speaking?”

  “I was the sixth person in line. That was supposed to be Carl Zimmerman, but I substituted myself for him. I’m of the group of which you are aware who would not be voluntarily released from Mars by the current administration. I’d rather not identify myself until we can speak privately.”

  There were audible gasps from others in the hold, and a pause from April while she considered what was safe to reply.

  “That fine, but I have to ask what happened to Mr. Zimmerman?” April demanded.

  “Carl is in housekeeping. When the new shift shows up at their supply and office area, they are going to find him seated well away from any com and handcuffed to a sturdy conduit. I assure you he’s quite healthy and hasn’t been harmed at all. It wasn’t necessary to use force at all. I simply fooled him into looking at something closely and had the cuff on him before he knew what I was going on. He was quite peeved with me. From your chatter, do I really understand correctly that we will be at ISSII in a matter of hours? We’re not just transferring to a different vessel in Mars orbit?” the man asked.

  “That’s right. You are being taken direct,” April confirmed.

  “It doesn’t seem credible, but I’ll take it as a given. I’d like to request I not be repatriated at ISSII. I believe I can be of value to you. I’d rather seek asylum wherever else you go.”

  “We’ll be returning to Home,” April said. “There are no restrictions on entering Home but it is a very expensive place to visit or live. If anyone else wants to go to Home instead of being repatriated to Europe through ISSII they can, but you should have significant funds you can access or skills you know are immediately needed to risk doing that. We aren’t going to give you free passage later if it doesn’t work out for you.”

  “My name is Eron Swanson,” another passenger spoke up. “I’m a very high-level electronics tech and have about twelve years of back pay sitting in a Swiss bank. I never wanted to go back to Earth so I’ll stay aboard at ISSII also. I had no desire to go back to Earth but I could see things were going bad on Mars too. I’m number three on your manifest. The put us in line in the order they wanted to get rid of us. They were pretty blunt about wanting me gone. I was scared not to leave if I was so unwelcome.”

  “You were smart,” April said. “One of the reasons we agreed to transport you people is it would have been hazardous to your health to stay.”

  “That’s pretty much what I thought,” Eron said. “They killed Schober, didn’t they?”

  “I suspect somebody did,” April agreed, “I haven’t heard any personal confessions but I seriously doubt he stumbled over his own feet and broke his neck.”

  The ship made a slow twisting change of attitude that wasn’t alarming.

  The first voice that didn’t
want to share a name spoke up. “They told us he died in a decompression accident.”

  “On his usual afternoon stroll?” Eron asked in a scoffing tone.

  “Exactly,” voice one agreed. “I doubt if the man has been in a p-suit in years.”

  “Well, they tried to kill my grandpa by sabotaging his suit. If that hadn’t worked, they’d also put a dab of hydraulic oil or something on his window gasket,” April said. “It was swelling and making it soft. If it blew out in his sleep period, he’d have never have gotten the lights on much less get to a suit.”

  “Who was he? What did he hire on to do?” Eron asked.

  “I think I know,” voice one said. “He was that construction boss they hired on. He went up to Phobos and never came back.”

  “Yes, Happy Lewis,” April said. “He went up to Phobos because he knew they were trying to kill him. We picked him up just like we are you. But that was for free. We’re being paid for picking you up. Try not to equate us with your administrators just because we are dealing with them. If we hadn’t picked you up, you’d have been in similar danger. Sometimes you do business with nasty people because the alternatives are far worse.”

  “They wouldn’t dare!” a new voice said indignantly.

  “And yet, you decided to come along,” a different voice pointed out.

  “That would work to destroy a window seal,” Eron said, “but how would they time it to blow when he was sleeping? You’d have to do it to a whole batch of them and find the mean time to failure.”

  “No,” voice one said, “just let it soften the gasket and suddenly overpressure the room in the middle of the night. If the sudden pressure change awakened him it wouldn’t matter. It would be too late.”

  There was a long ugly silence. Nobody wanted to express their feelings aloud. Some of the smarter ones were likely afraid to. The ship turned again.

  “I’m ramping back up to four-tenths of a g,” Johnson told them. “Get comfortable for about a quarter of an hour and we’ll have some more maneuvering when we get near LEO. I’ll keep the channel open so you hear us ask clearance.”

  “Thank you,” Eron said. The Martians were all talked out for now.

  Chapter 3

  “We should be in radio range of LEO and be able to get relays to talk to Earth Control now,” Johnson informed April, rousing her from some idle daydreaming “I’d appreciate it if you took the comm and spoke to them.”

  “If you wish,” April agreed. “Is there a problem with you doing it?”

  “There’s no problem between us, but we are coming in on an unusual vector and I suspect Earth Control may start interrogating me over why we are on such an odd approach. I believe they will be less inquisitive and more respectful of you. Your name is firmly attached to unleashing a massive bombardment when they do something foolish like shoot at you. The talk going around is that the recent huge detonation in the Black Sea seemed to be related to your overflying the area after you were diverted away from crossing Turkey and Persia.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.

  “I have the comm then,” April agreed and ignored the implied question. “I’m cutting the audio feed from the hold,” she informed the passengers. “I’ll have Johnson monitor it for problems but I’d rather not have that channel open with Earth Control listening.” She looked over and Johnson nodded.

  “Earth Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot, Master April Lewis approaching your control volume from a chasing solar orbit. We intend to match the outer control volume at ISSII on a tangent and request local approach and docking there. Do we have clearance, please?”

  “Dionysus’ Chariot, we see your squawk and have no conflicting traffic. Uh, may I have your ticket and second, please?”

  That was entirely proper to ask and he was being polite so April was too.

  “I am Master ID 737-62-4002 and my second Boris Johnson is number 923-07-1033.”

  “Ma’am, if I may, I don’t see any departure information on my system for you except a recent departure to translunar space. Would you please advise me if my data is in error so I can report a discrepancy on our system?”

  “That is correct. We recently departed Central although I don’t believe we declared a destination leaving their control. More recently we departed Phobos Traffic Control above Mars. Of course, they don’t advise me who they update or how timely they do so.”

  There was a pause of dead air while the Earth Controller thought on that.

  “Thank you, Dionysus’ Chariot, my Phobos Control updates…. Oh, I see it posted just now.”

  “That’s good then. We just arrived ahead of your update transmission,” April assured him. She waited to see if he would ask how that was possible on an open mic.

  “Thank you, Dionysus’ Chariot. No further questions. Contact ISSII local on approach.”

  “I enjoyed that too much,” April said to Johnson over a muted mic.

  “ISSII Local Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus’ Chariot on a chasing approach. Master April Lewis, ID 737-62-4002 requesting approach and short-term docking at your north mast for a drop-off.”

  “Dionysus’ Chariot, port three is open for a quick layover. We have no traffic anticipated for several hours. Make your approach and dock at your convenience.”

  Dionysus’ Chariot was a regular at ISSII to drop off light freight and packages for UPS or Larkin’s, so there were no questions. “We are docking,” April told the passengers. “We’ll have people to assist you when the hatch opens.”

  “Gunny and Mackay, when we attach at the hold hatch there will be a man lock offset on the mast. I’d like you to go inside and tell me when you are by the port before I open the hold and let you open the mast hatch. I’m flooding the hold with air so we don’t cause a big pressure drop in their mast. I’ll pump that down after we leave. We need those suits to return later to the Martians, so I’d like you to process everybody but the two we are keeping as quickly as can be done safely. Hold them all there until we have the whole mob de-suited and then send them on down the mast with instructions to call station security to log them on-station.”

  Johnson looked over at her, started to say something, and thought better of it.

  From when the grapples were felt to engage until Mackay reported the suits in the hold, the port hatch dogged back shut and they were returning to the flight deck was only twenty-two minutes. April was very happy with that. It only took another three minutes for her security guys to be back on the flight deck strapping in.

  “Stay well clear of the hatch and orient to the deck,” April told her two remaining passengers. “I’m closing the hatch now and we’ll be leaving in just a minute or two.”

  “That was good work,” April told them when they were secured.

  ‘These folks all went to Mars on the Sandman. They can handle themselves in zero g,” Gunny said. “That really helped.”

  “ISSII Local, this is Dionysus’ Chariot requesting undock and departure of your control area for translunar space,” April requested.

  “Dionysus’ Chariot, we are still clear of any traffic. Depart at your leisure and be safe out there,” Control said, kindly.

  “Thank you, Local, undocking now.” The chunk of the grapples releasing was immediate. April pushed off the mast with no more warning to her passengers and aimed at the sky. The Moon was on the other side of the Earth and she’d have to dog-leg around the Earth to it. She did hold the acceleration to a half g for the Martians. As soon as she hit the kilometer local traffic limit, she jumped out right in front of God and ISSII and everybody. Once well removed she turned the ship around bringing the Earth and Moon back visible now in front of them.

  “That’s going to take some time to get used to,” Mackay said looking over her shoulder.

  “Tell me about it. It’s still a miracle for me every time I see it. Home Local is friendly, Johnson. Why don’t you finish taking us back?” April told her second.

  “Aye, h
appy to do it,” Johnson agreed. “I hope you know that the next load you bring from Mars they aren’t going to forget this little trick? They will make you sit until every last one is identified and has passed medical checks before they grant clearance to leave.”

  “I didn’t want to wait for them to process everyone,” April agreed. “Don’t worry about next time too much. I’m thinking maybe I’ll drop the next load off at the Turnip. After all, most of these folks are European and it should be just as convenient to be repatriated from a French hab.”

  “They will probably want you to sit and wait there too,” Johnson insisted.

  “Nah… ISSII isn’t going to tell on themselves that they got so sloppy receiving a mob. The French will have no clue this happened,” April insisted.

  * * *

  Linda Pennington showed at Heather’s court as ordered. Mo wasn’t entirely sure she would, even as Heather told him her intention. He decided not to borrow trouble by expressing his misgivings. He beat her there as well as three other supplicants. She was the last in before the door closed on this session of court and she didn’t look happy when she walked in. She looked even less happy when she saw Mo. The fact Heather took care of all the other cases until it was only Linda, Mo, and Heather’s assistant Dakota left with the sovereign was irritating Linda. Someone else might not know but Mo knew the little tells from long experience. The increasingly rigid posture and repeated pursing of her lips. The fact that she was last in the door and would normally be last heard even if she hadn’t been summoned was lost on her. She always thought of herself as special and just expected preferential treatment. It wasn’t a good frame of mind with which to approach Heather, Mo reflected.

  “Thank you for coming, Linda,” Heather finally said. “Do you still go by Pennington, or have you reverted to your family name or another?”