April 3: The Middle of Nowhere (41 page)

"Would you have
done
anything different?" he asked too.

"I hope not. Everything that happened worked out pretty good in the end. Bad stuff happened but it could have been much worse. We could have ended up on the slumball with Home under tight martial law and the Rock nationalized. Bob was older than me, did you by any chance tell him there might be a depression coming?"

"No and I'm glad I didn't. I don't have to wonder if worry about it drove him to go all weird and act like he did. I can't see how telling him would have had any benefit," he added.

"So you don't think I'd look silly to mention the same things to Jeff?" she asked.

"Not at all. I'm sure Jeff and Eddie both realize we are deep in the end cycle of an economic peak. Eddie is very forthright about trying to turn all his suddenly gained paper assets into real tangible things. Jeff, when we were working together, would make remarks that made me realize he knew the score too."

"Like what?" she said scrunching her eyebrows up.

"Like when we were designing the fast couriers, we had to consider how many hours they could sustain before a major bare-frame overhaul. He'd make a comment that something should last just fine for as long as he expected there to be a demand for the kind of high priority freight they were designed to carry. He definitely saw such work dropping off in the not too distant future," he remembered.

"Knowing that is of limited usefulness however. You never can predict such things with the kind of precision to actually time business plans based on it. On the other hand you could decide it is too close and sit on your hands for years, never doing anything because you aren't sure things won't crash and ruin your venture. Or you can go into something that depends on way more time than you have to show a profit.  Either one is a trap. You just have to get on with your life and deal with it when it happens," he assured her.

"That's a remarkably calm viewpoint," she said, not sure she could adopt it.

"When you were sailing around with your friend Santos did a storm ever come up?"

"As a matter of fact one big one in particular did hit us after we passed the equator. It was scary but exhilarating. I have some video of it."

"How did he act when he saw it coming?"

"He saw the dark clouds behind us and took down the big sails and just left the smaller triangular sail at the front. He closed up the clamshell doors on the wheelhouse and made sure even his experienced deckhands had safety lines on."

"Well it's the same thing. You see some dark clouds gather on Earth. You know it's going to get rough. You just don't know when the first gusts are going to hit. Best to have your sails trimmed to not get damaged and be ready to ride it out. No way can you change it. The storm is a bigger force than you can deflect at all. You could shout from the rooftops and tell folks and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. These sort of events are the sum of so many little things going back further than you can see that there is no understanding them fully, much less trying to keep them from happening."

"The economists and the politicians all deny up and down anything is wrong!" she protested.

"Can you really blame them?" her grandpa asked her. "Most of the passengers are so stupid they'll blame the captain for whistling up the storm or ask why he steered in front of it. As if there was any way to undo or avoid something so big. I wouldn't waste my breath trying to explain it to somebody who has never stood at the wheel and kept the boat from getting crossways to the wind. Most of the passengers are pretty useless when you get right down to it. Just tell them they don't know what a bad storm really is, shut up, get below and try not to puke in your bunk."

"Thanks gramps. You really help me put things in perspective."

Chapter 25

"One of Dakota's people showed me another lunar process they've been hoarding today," Jeff told Heather. "He can separate iron from regolith magnetically. It is nano-particle size and can be sintered and laser heated to finished size for things like air locks and  machine parts. They are going to make residential buildings and greenhouses of microwave melted regolith ceramic with native steel airlocks. They want us to import nitrous oxide and solid carbon to make air and carbon dioxide for the plants."

"I know Home has lots of cheap iron from the Rock, but could you sell them this nano-particle iron for quick prototyping at a price that would beat them making their own from the bulk solid?" Heather asked.

"That's an excellent idea," Jeff acknowledged. "Also, Armstrong brings some air in as nitrous oxide for rovers and suits so they are very familiar with it. The carbon dioxide they bring in liquid, but that is no big difficult change. They intend to keep the air for the greenhouses separate and optimized for the plants."

"I've been thinking. Importing solid carbon from Earth is fine for now, but I'd like to eventually ram scoop hydrocarbons from Jupiter or Titan. It doesn't even need to be a manned vessel for such a long voyage, it could be automated," Jeff  suggested.

"How fast is the tunnel machine working now?"Heather asked.

"It has averaged a meter every three hundred seconds for long stretches. Cutting out blocks instead of needing the power to shatter the entire face to grit has made a huge difference. We have much less cracking in the wall from thermal effects too. Cutting the tunnel square instead of round makes it much more efficient to use for the effort put into it too. That was brilliant," he complimented her. She just smiled. "I just know eventually we'll think of some use for the blocks," he predicted, "people are using them for simple stuff like building shelving, but that hardly puts a dent in the pile."

"When you build your beanstalk you'll need a big counterweight at the end, won't you?"

"That I will," Jeff said, looking surprised.

* * *

Maine was lovely this time of year. It was past the heat of summer but not yet cool except at night. The leaves were getting a little patches of color out among the green. The lobster were abundant this year and they bought them at the dock and cooked them back aboard. Lin had seen somebody watching them from the marina store Saturday the first of two weekends they were to be available and assured him the man was not a professional observer.

The next day another fellow cruised past in a small boat and spent too long looking at their stern. When the other fellow returned to the store Lin confronted him.

"I've seen you hanging around, are you looking to crew?" he asked him directly. "We have a berth open on our boat if you are qualified."

"I am, but I'm expecting a particular boat soon. The
Tobiuo
was supposed to come in about this time and they promised us an opening for both myself and a friend."

"You haven't heard then. The
Tobiuo
is thought to have been lost in the Drake passage. Her dinghy and various bits of debris were found washed up," Lin told him.

"Has that been confirmed?" the man said looking worried.

"The ocean is large," Lin said shrugging. "That kind of thing may never be finally confirmed," he explained. "Why don't you and your friend come speak to my master tonight? I think that you will find
The
Sly Spy
is exactly the same, under the skin, as the
Tobiuo
. If you were qualified for her I'm sure the owner will accept you."

The fellow looked like he was getting the drift of it but wanted to be told plainly. Lin wasn't going to do that standing here in the store. "He's been looking for just the right people since
April
," he assured him. "If you hesitate he might be gone after next weekend."

"In that case I'll get my buddy and come tonight," he agreed.
That
was finally plain enough for him, thank goodness.

"Come early enough for supper and bring
everything
you don't want to leave behind," Lin instructed. "If you are coming with us it might be a long time before you return."

"Yes, I expect that. You're a long range cruiser, aren't you?"

"Indeed our master has expressed a desire to go much further next time than he has before."

"We'll see you about 17:00 then."

"That sounds fine," Lin agreed.

* * *

"They say they are going to bring in a new executive crew and the four administrators who worked with Loesher will be returned to Earth," Ted said reading the message flimsy. "In consideration of dropping the embarrassing lawsuit we'd have all administrative charges dropped and new contracts signed that guarantee civil liberties and freedom to stay on the moon."

"What happens to the creeps they send back to Earth?" his wife asked.

"It doesn't say. I figure they get another Federal job or maybe straight to a cushy retirement given their skill sets are not in big demand elsewhere," Ted predicted.

"We already had guarantees of our liberties," she pointed out bitterly. "It was called the Constitution. It wasn't any defect in documents that created a problem, it was a defect in people who wanted to dominate us and make our lives miserable. It's the same team and I don't trust them. If we go back they will just find new ways to oppress us. It's what they do."

"Oh I totally agree," Ted said. "I'm just reading what they offered. Everybody should hear it. I have no desire to be under their thumb again. I want to market some of the tech we made and held back. You
know
if we go back they will claim anything we invented is their intellectual property because we couldn't have any private facilities or equipment to develop it."

"Which brings up another matter. The fellow Beck, who took over environmental services for you, can't get the nitrous oxide generator to run continuously. The catalyst bed overheats and he has to shut it down before the ceramic substrate gets damaged and run it in batches. They would like to know what to do, or pay you to come back and show them how to run it."

"Unbelievable. I wonder if they have killed off all the hydroponics yet? They were a heck of a lot fussier to keep going than the air machine."

"Well, he isn't a process engineer. I think he's an architect."

"Any halfway competent plumber or heating and cooling guy could figure it out. Tell them I'll write out instructions, not the stupid manual the manufacturer foisted off on us, real world how-it-works instructions, for a ten-thousand dollar consulting fee, a bargain! Paid in advance, because once they see how easy it is they will balk at paying for it," she predicted.

"How long do you think it will take you to write it if they agree?"

"I can tell them everything in a half page, sweetie," she said smiling.

"Ouch."

"Anybody crazy enough to want to go back?" she asked.

"No, but we also noticed that despite all this supposed openness and freedom not a single one of our co-workers has sent a message or expressed any interest in joining us. You'd think that if they were free to speak now there would be some message if only a hello or asking how we are doing," he thought.

"Not a thing has changed," she surmised. "They either can't send a message or are terrified to do so."

"You're the third person to say so," he agreed. "After twelve years of giving me a hard time, my lab tech Carl would have called just to harass me, if he was free to send a message along. I'd bet our old associates don't even know the administrators are communicating with us. Heaven only knows what they have been told."

"A moment though," she said holding her hand up. "Perhaps we are too well trained. Have any of
us
tried to call our old friends and coworkers at Armstrong?"

Ted looked shocked. "It never occurred to me to try. It won't go through," he predicted.

"Why don't you do so?" she suggested. "Now."

There was a sat code for Armstrong, then he just punched in the normal internal number that would ring his old assistant Carl. Instead of Carl he got a tech at the communications center. He recognized the man's face but didn't know his name. "Calling Carl," he said abruptly, hoping to brazen through.

"Carl is on his work shift. We don't pass through com to people at their duty stations," the tech informed him.

"Fine, Vincent works off shift and I'd be happy to talk to him too. Connect me please."

"But he may be sleeping and I'd wake him."

"He's a big boy, he can set his own com priorities to wake him or take a message. I'd be happy just to leave him a voice message too."

"Sorry, those are not my orders," the tech told him.

"Sorry, connect with this," Ted told the tech, gathering his straight fingers at the tips and lifting them with a very dramatic rude Italian gesture. The fellow disconnected.

"Lying bastards," he said to the blank screen.

"Whatever tale they have been told, the big thing they can't cover up is that the rovers Loesher took out after us never came home. They know that can't be a good thing. Tell the lawyers we want to see some of this new openness in action and have some of our old friends and work-mates call and chat us up.  And tell Heather what just happened. I think sometimes she may think we are exaggerating."

"I'll do that, but I wouldn't hold my breath," Ted told her.

* * *

"We are going to proceed to the Canary Islands," Papa-san informed his guests over dinner. He had not plainly told them he was giving them transport for April until they had their bags aboard and were seated to dinner.

"They have a launch center that is very little influenced by politics. We can lift on a passenger shuttle with little chance anyone will object even if your name shows a hold by Interpol. They make their money not by convenience or economy but by discretion. We also have quite a bit of mass to lift and can get a cheap lease of an entire automated freight shuttle."

"Are they as reliable as a manned vehicle?" his new passenger Isaac Freidman asked.

"They are infinitesimally less reliable mechanically, but with an automated shuttle you can have your security watch them from loading until they are slung on the lift jet. Likewise you can have your own security present when they dock and open them up for you."