A12 Who Can Own the Stars?

by Mackey Chandler

  * * *

  Irwin came to the employee entrance down the corridor from the bank’s public doors. He could see a fellow standing there but it was well before opening time and he had no messages or requests for an appointment. He had no desire to look desperate for business or get tied up dealing with something before his coffee. He loaded the machine and set it to work brewing before he went out to his desk.

  The man outside was Asian. Irwin wasn’t familiar enough with the small regional differences to guess what nationality or sub-region. He was compact and dressed casual-expensive, but definitely Earth garb, with a courier bag strung under one arm. He was young with the little tells that Irwin saw and understood much better than his ethnicity which marked him as genuinely young rather than looking younger from life extension therapy. He was remarkably patient for one so young, not pressing forward to the door when he saw Irwin or checking the time.

  It was still a few minutes before 0900, but he didn’t want to look like an unthinking rule follower, so he unlocked the front doors from his desk and gave the man a wave to come in. The fellow had an odd gait walking to Irwin’s desk and took a seat when Irwin waved at it.

  “I have coffee brewing and am going to go get myself a cup,” Irwin informed him. “May I bring you a cup or some other refreshment?”

  “I’d welcome a coffee, but before you waste too extravagant a welcome on me, I’m just a courier from Mr. Sajit Gupta.”

  “If you have the trust of Mr. Gupta for whatever he needs you to do, I will extend the same courtesies to you, as his hand, as I would to him,” Irwin assured him, getting up.

  “Thank you.” The fellow seemed to have a little culture shock at his treatment.

  The man’s disclaimer interrupted Irwin’s train of thought. He originally intended to pour a couple of mugs, then realized he hadn’t asked if his guest took cream or sugar. Rather than go back to ask, he put the full service on a tray. They kept several sets for entertaining clients with coffee or tea and he picked the German porcelain in stark plain white. To him, the graceful form was art better unadorned. Irwin disliked clutter.

  A few rapid blinks from him suggested the young man was not used to being treated so well, but he seemed to calm himself pretty quickly. At least he had the sense to let Irwin pour. He added some cream and waited on Irwin to take a sip before he tried it. When he did, he gave a nod of appreciation, and said, “That’s very fine, thank you.”

  Irwin didn’t set his back down to get to business. He intended to get some caffeine in his bloodstream and quickly follow it up with another cup. He usually used a half-liter insulated mug.

  “So, are you bringing me something from Mr. Gupta or do you wish to convey something back to him?” Irwin inquired.

  “I have an item of deposit and a letter. I was told to expect you would send a return document also.”

  He leaned over and got in the courier bag with both hands, awkwardly depositing a four-hundred-ounce gold bar on Irwin’s desk small face down, to allow it to be gripped.

  The letter was in an unsealed pale green envelope and the paper inside proved to be the same, written very informally in flowing longhand, with an old-fashioned pen.

  Irwin,

  Please take this bar as a good faith advance deposit toward an apartment on Beta such as we discussed after seeing Miss Lewis’ home. Whatever account form is customary, hold it for that purpose in my name. If you need further funds as construction advances please let me know and I shall advance them. Due to legal difficulties with your currency here I would appreciate a generic receipt be returned with my man, not one denominated in solars.

  Sajit

  The informal style seemed to indicate Gupta not only accepted the personal and informal way spacers did business but intended to dive right in and adopt it as his own.

  Irwin got a sheet of letterhead and a soft point pen. He lacked a pen with a nib to match Gupta’s eccentricity, but it still had more style than running it off a printer.

  Sajit,

  Thank you for your deposit. I am holding one good delivery bar in earnest towards the purchase of private cubic on the Beta hab when those contracts are available. As you are the first customer to confirm your intent to buy, I shall see that you get the first choice. The bar will be regarded as an interest-bearing deposit account. Consider this your receipt. If it seems vague, I did so in consideration of possible legal prohibitions. I’ll send this back with your courier.

  Your Servant, Irwin Hall

  There, he avoided specifically mentioning gold, Irwin thought, satisfied. He wrote things out by hand so seldom he wasn’t thrilled by his penmanship. If he started over, he doubted it would look any better. He folded the letter and put it in a plain envelope. Was he laying it on too thick with the close? He decided no, and handed it to the courier.

  “Another cup?” Irwin invited, pouring another for himself.

  “Yes, thank you. It’s a treat.” The fellow seemed relaxed finally.

  “Do you have to stay over, or is there a return shuttle you’ll catch?” Irwin asked.

  “I’ll make a return connection through New Las Vegas in six hours. I only have an hour layover there, I’m sorry to say. I will take a quick walk and see what I can of it.”

  “You were waiting when I arrived. I’d think you’ll want a meal before you have to make your shuttle. The cafeteria is just down the corridor if you haven’t seen it. Tell any of the cafeteria ladies to put your meal on Irwin Hall’s account and they’ll be happy to do that,” he offered.

  “I’ll go do that right now, thank you for your hospitality,” he said draining the last of his cup before he left.

  What a self-effacing young man, Irwin thought. He never did mention his name.

  * * *

  Alice didn’t have to wait in a line for an outhouse. It was the first day and people were still arriving. Later there would be a line in front of all three. Some brilliant young boy was selling bundles of dried moss, but Alice waved him off since she didn’t need it. She wondered what he was asking in trade because there was no convenient way to pay for very small purchases.

  By the time she came out, three men were standing in a circle, talking and waiting for her door to come open. The one facing her looked up and nodded, so the one with his back to her would be aware it was open. The man turned and looked at her hard. She was already so different from the thin child in rags he remembered that he almost didn’t recognize her.

  “It is you!” he said, hand shooting out and grabbing her arm. “What the hell are you doing here?” It was the youngest Olsen brother, Ben.

  Alice tried to jerk loose, but he had too good a grip. She managed to twist away but couldn’t break his grip. It just hurt more since it made his thumb dig in. He didn’t seem to see the tiny rifle hanging off her neck strap or discounted it. She grabbed the cocking knob on the end of the bolt with her free hand and jerked it back. When she turned around, she lifted the rifle one-handed and jammed the muzzle in his crotch.

  Because the muzzle was pressed into him with no gap, the report was a muted cough. He not only let go of her, he pushed her away, so they both fell. She rolled to get away from him before she sprang up. He thrashed around in pain, curled up with both hands clasped between his legs. He wet himself but it was bright red bloody urine.

  Alice was terrified, her heart pounding, and breath ragged, but she worked the bolt and inserted a new cartridge in the little single shot rifle rather than run. She was raising it to put another round through his head when a hand came around her shoulder and firmly pushed the little gun down.

  “He’s already a dead man,” Arlo said softly, lips right by her ear. “If you shoot him again folks won’t understand or forgive it. They can let the first one go, because he put his hands on you, but not putting him down like a dog after you aren’t in danger. Besides, it wastes a cartridge.”

  “You’re right,” Alice agreed. “Thank you.” She turned away to show she wasn’t going to targe
t him again, and looked down, attending to making the cocked rifle safe again.

  >BOOM< >BOOM< behind her scared Alice, and made her jump. If she hadn’t just emptied her bladder, she’d have voided it on the spot.

  Arlo was slowly looking around with a big pistol in his hand. The other two men who’d been waiting for the outhouse were standing very still. Everybody nearby was frozen in place. The Olsen patriarch was face down sprawled over a shotgun and the older Olsen brother was sprawled staring at the sky with a pistol still in his hand.

  Arlo scanned again over both shoulders. There were all sorts of weapons draped across shoulders and holstered but nobody seemed disposed to touch them. He walked over to the still moaning man Alice shot and relieved him of a pistol tucked in his waistband before he holstered his own.

  “Olsens?” Arlo asked Alice.

  “Yes, that’s the father John and the oldest boy named after him,” Alice said, “but they always called the boy Jack. The middle brother, William, might be around somewhere,” she realized and looked about anxiously. Her hand went back to the cocking knob without even looking at it.

  “They might have left him home to guard the place,” Arlo said, “but walk around with me and we’ll see if he is here.”

  “What will you do if he is?” Alice asked.

  “I’ll tell him if he wants to live to start walking down the road and keep going until he’s sure I will never see his face again. Those two didn’t pull their weapons until they saw you. As far as I am concerned being an Olsen is evidence of belonging to a criminal conspiracy. I’ll be generous not to shoot him on sight.”

  Young Ben Olsen on the ground finally stopped moving. Alice looked stricken at that despite her earlier intent to finish him off.

  Arlo stopped only to relieve the Olsens of their weapons and ammunition, then said, “Come along.” He offered a hand to Alice and gently led her away. Mr. Mast was arriving at the scene and said, “I have this,” in passing to Arlo.

  They made a slow meandering circuit of the grounds, finding several people who knew who the Olsens were but none had seen the middle brother, William.

  “Let’s go talk to Vic and find Mr. Mast again,” Arlo said. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to go visit the Olsen homestead. We’ll see if we can do it while you are this close instead of having to double back from home. I want you to come along.”

  “Why?” Alice asked, uncomfortable again.

  “Whatever they took from your parents’ house you should be allowed to recover as much of that as we can carry for you,” Arlo said. “If William is there, let him take whatever of theirs he can carry, but you should have the pick of what remains. You’ve been treated sorely enough you deserve that little bit. Does that sound fair to you?”

  “Very fair, there are some things I hope I can find, but the things I can’t use I want you or the Foys to take if you can use them,” Alice insisted.

  “Thank you. Let’s get back to Vic. He’s probably worried,” Arlo said.

  Alice nodded, but wondered why he thought Vic would be worried, but not Eileen.

  Chapter 6

  “We have some idea what the device is supposed to do, but elements are missing, so we can’t reproduce it and build a working copy for ourselves.”

  Martin pursed his lips in thought, regarding Doctor Holbrook. “Tell me more.”

  “The consensus is that it is an advanced radar set. The optic to millimeter-wave adaptor will be very useful if we can figure it out with more detailed scans or even trying to disassemble it. The actual waveguide and aperture may hold significant secrets for us. The odd hollow shape would appear to be a very low loss optical storage. Most of us now agree it is a quantum radar unit. The problem is the processing unit is absent.”

  “Somewhere that severed optic fiber went to,” Martin guessed. “Is there any chance you could apply pressure to the Martians to examine their records of where this unit was removed and send us whatever the other end of the fiber connects to?”

  “Unfortunately, the side on which the fiber exits, isn’t a face neatly cut from the ship. It’s the abraded surface ground away by sliding for kilometers across the Martian surface. Whatever was there is smeared in tiny shreds and particles mixed with several tons of other machinery and hull and internal structure across the rocky plain and exposed for millennia to sun and weather and burial in dust. There’s no possibility of recovering any one part of it,” Holbrook said.

  “So we have two-thirds of a puzzle and won’t be able to use it until we are smart enough to figure out how to process the signals ourselves?” Martin asked.

  “Pretty much, but the light storage, in particular, is a huge advance. We have never had storage stable enough to consistently maintain entanglement beyond orbital range. We can’t reliably detect the objects at the distance of the moon from Earth with a low power quantum radar. That also explains what we noted before, that there is no separate power feed. That small connector at the end of the fiber must convert the light source to millimeter waves without any amplification. The best guess about the device is that its output is only about five watts.”

  “One would assume a radar on a starship has to deal with astronomical distances,” Martin said. “To do that with five watts is mind-boggling. You wouldn’t know an alien was out there, painting you with this thing.”

  “Indeed, after you’ve mulled it over a bit, if you have any thoughts on how the missing processor might work, don’t hesitate to text me,” Holbrook invited.

  * * *

  “Jeff, you might be interested in what Diana just sent me from Hawaii,” April said.

  “A fresh pineapple?” Jeff asked hopefully, coming over and sitting down.

  “You drop a shuttle there often enough to arrange that yourself,” April told him. “This is just an image on her message telling me she got home safe and our homes aren’t smoking craters. This is the new coin Hawaii just minted to mark their independence. I’ll put it up on the big screen.”

  “I thought she just returned to Home,” Jeff complained. “She must be doing OK to afford the shuttle fees the way she flits back and forth,”

  “I got the impression she was doing more than OK the first time I met her in Hawaii,” April said. “I’m assuming you didn’t give her any hardship discount to rent your apartment after Linda Pennington finally vacated?”

  “No, good point. I charged full market rate and she didn’t twitch at it,” Jeff said.

  The coin shown on Diana’s hand was gold with a bold high rim and the image of a man with an elaborate hat and a cloak or cape. It said KALA - twenty-five grams - .9999 - KULA just inside the rim beneath him.

  “Is that panel down his front some sort of armor?” Jeff wondered.

  “With so much area unprotected? I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell what it is from the relief on a coin, with no color or texture. I have no idea what it is,” she admitted.

  “Well he does have a spear,” Jeff pointed out.

  “Aren’t you upset they are copying the solar?” April asked.

  “Shucks no, I wish everybody would. It would make monetary exchanges so easy. I sort of assumed right away that Diana suggested it to her buddy in their government.”

  April looked surprised. “She might have for all I know.”

  “Did she show the reverse?” Jeff asked.

  “No, just the obverse.”

  “Ask her to show us that. Better yet, tell her I’d like one. I’ll gladly pay a premium on it as a collectible,” Jeff offered.

  “I’ll tell her when I reply,” April promised. “She’s trying to get me to visit. I haven’t seen some of the things they finished at my house, but I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

  * * *

  Vic was relieved to see Alice in the distance, coming back with Arlo. He’d considered going to the toilets to try to find her when he heard shots fired. The trouble with that was she could come back here looking for him and find him gone. He missed having cell phone
s. Even the few people who had the cheaper little walkie-talkies were having them break down or the batteries die with no replacements to be had.

  Vic had one of the better handheld radios he’d bought from O’Neil to listen to the local radio net from before Eileen lived with him. The back of it opened with panels on each side to charge it in direct sunlight. It was bigger and heavier than he cared to carry to the festival. Like most, he didn’t have a license to use it. It still didn’t have enough wattage to reach the station that used an illegal power booster and high antenna to run the local news net.

  It seemed a huge expense to get the little short-range units that clipped on your belt for the twice a year they’d use them at the festivals. He’d need another solar charger or use up his homemade batteries faster to charge them. But Vic reconsidered. They could call between the house and the barn too, couldn’t they? He put those thoughts on hold when Alice and Arlo stepped over the rope.

  Arlo immediately told Vic the full story of what happened. Alice looked anxious, staring at Vic intently to see if he got upset or showed signs of disapproval. She looked so concerned Vic put an arm around her shoulders without interrupting Arlo. Alice wasn’t one to initiate that with him, but today she welcomed the reassurance.

  “Nine-millimeter?” Vic asked Arlo. He nodded yes, aware why Vic was asking. Vic pulled a spare magazine from a pocket, thumbed four rounds out, and handed them to Arlo. It was only right to make a replacement for the scarce resource and a thank you for expending them.

  “When do you want to go to the Olsen’s?” Vic asked. “Right now, before the middle brother expects them back, or wait until the festival is over?”

  “I want to talk to Mr. Mast, but I figure to do that after. The second day after works for me, if he and you agree,” Arlo said. “No matter what we think of them they may have friends or allies who will alert him. Folks with young ones use them as runners, and somebody may well be running there as we speak to warn him.

  “I’d like Mast to come along if he volunteers, but he can hardly do that while his place is full of people. Right now, I expect he’s busy hiring somebody to bury the three we just shot. Folks are hunting him down to ask questions and do deals all the time. He’d be missed quickly.