April 8: It's Always Something (24 page)

"Yeah, and if you shot both of them and gave her a few moments of peace she'd probably give you an award. Nobody wants to decide anything without her blessing," Kurt said. "I got to know her...We got to know each other, because I had to stand before her justice. You can look it up if you want. All her legal decisions are on the local net."

"Can't you just give me the short version?" Deloris asked.

"I was sitting eating supper and a fellow sat beside me and demanded I spy for North America. Didn't try to recruit me at all, just ordered me and threatened my sister when I refused. I killed him."

Deloris scowled. "Is that why the elastic glove?" She hadn't wanted to ask.

"Yeah, I totally screwed my hand up jamming a fork in him," Kurt said. "It needed surgery and it still isn't healed a hundred percent."

"Oy...

"Heather ruled it justified," Kurt added quickly. "Dakota never met me, though we'd seen each other, and it set her attitude toward me. I can tell she's very leery of me."

Deloris decided she shouldn't dig any deeper. At least not with Kurt himself for a source. "I hope it works out for you. Perhaps you should simply give her some time to get over it," Deloris suggested.

"That's a possibility. I haven't discussed it with anyone else, so I'm short on advice. I won't be able to move back to Home for about a year anyhow, so I do have some time. I
wish
I'd just called security and turned the man in to them as an outside agent," Kurt admitted, "but I just had this
visceral
reaction to his threat. It's hard to explain why. He
surprised
me where I thought I was safe from his kind, and it was fear not anger that drove it. Being dog tired coming off work didn't help either."

Deloris nodded. She could understand that. "One of my partners did a similar thing. We were stressed. The captain was already acting the fool. Then there was a fire aboard with alarms jolting us out of our sleep. Barak couldn't raise the bridge and he went there only to find the captain had abandoned his post to go have an illicit liaison with the XO. He came charging at him and Barak smacked him in the face with his fist. He had similar second thoughts later that he was simply standing in front of the hatch, and the man intended to thrust him aside, not attack him. But at that instant he reacted to it as an attack. It got complicated."

"Striking the Master? Yeah, doesn't get much more complicated than that," Kurt agreed.

"It seems like it's always something. The whole voyage got way too complicated," Deloris said, bitterly. "We launched with a crew of six and came back with three alive."

It was Kurt's turn to look shocked. "I was told we had two fatalities during the entire construction of M3. Both during the original phase when the core was built. Even so, one of those is suspected to have been a suicide. I don't ever intend to sign up for a deep space mission now. I never had any idea they were so dangerous. And they've kept it so quiet," he marveled.

"One of ours
was
a suicide," Deloris said, "the XO. She even left a note. Basically stating remorse over killing the captain. The voyage wasn't that dangerous. The ship and equipment worked reasonably well. Three petty, stupid people in isolation for a couple months without adult supervision were very dangerous however."

"The third fatality then...was it a love triangle?" Kurt guessed.

Deloris gave a little chuckle of amusement. "No, he died from kicking the snow off his boots."

When Kurt looked bewildered she explained. "The snow off the iceball would stick to his boots and he was constantly stopping and hitting them on the engine pylons sunk in the ice or the hand line posts to knock it off. When he came back in the lock after a shift he'd do a very thorough job of slamming them sideways into the hand rail post because the ice had ammonia and other organics in it, and would smell horrible, like cat piss and bad cheese in the lock. The locking collar for his suit boot was perfectly safe and fine for normal use, but it wasn't designed to take repeated blows to the inside edge of the sole. That side thrust put forces on the flange two hundred and fifty millimeters above it that it was never designed to take. After a few hundred repetitions the flange developed a crack and it propagated. The cold was probably a factor too. When only about a third of the flange was actually holding anything the suit pressure blew it off."

Kurt could picture it. Standing upright the boot coming off would result in the entire suit emptying in less than a second. It would propel him upward like a rocket.

"Whoosh..."

"Exactly," Deloris agreed. "In fact his partner coming off shift with him heard a roaring sound on the radio, looked back out of the lock and he was gone."

"By the time he tried to say anything there was no air in the suit to transmit the sound to the microphone," Kurt realized. "That tells me something else. He'd unclipped his safety line before he was securely in the lock," he said, in heavily accusing tones.

"Yep. He was notorious for that, and ignored his partner reproving him for it, mocked him actually, because he was the supervisor. The captain failed to discipline him for that too."

"I've seen this sort of thing," Kurt said. "Although usually it just resulted in a dinged tool or damaged material, a pinched finger that can be grown back, or maybe a bad bruise. But it almost always takes at least two errors before somebody gets hurt. I count at least six serious safety violations there."

Deloris squinted in thought. "You picked up on one I didn't see."

"The suit had to have run past a hundred hours for him to kick the snow off hundreds of times," Kurt said. "A hundred hours is as long as the best suits are rated before a visual inspection in very low temperatures or other harsh environments. That means it wasn't given a thorough visual inspection and test in over-pressure before being returned to service. Or that boot would have been caught. Either from a visual inspection of the locking flanges or it would have blown off when tested at two or three times the working pressure."

"Ah, I suspect that's because they took longer to position the motors and pin them to the ice than expected. I don't think the planners foresaw using them enough hours to make provision for suit maintenance. I'm not sure anybody aboard was even rated for that job," Deloris admitted.

"
Seven
errors then," Kurt added. Making a check mark in the air.

"Thank you for taking a day off with me. Chen said I was displaying symptoms of burnout. So I dumped my work messages on him for a couple days. He more or less told me I don't know how to delegate very well." Jeff could admit that to April. He wouldn't to just anybody. He was slouched on her couch with the wall screen blank, absorbing a very cold pale pilsner.

"Is he just blowing them off until you get back or did you give him authority to settle things?"

"I told him to
handle
it," Jeff said. "I gave him access to everything but my weapons codes."

April, as well as Heather had those codes. She couldn't fault him retaining those.

"I told Chen that Jon will be calling to arrange for Home Security to buy some of our hunter-killer robots. He wants them for his own department spaces. He knows what our unit cost is and is authorized to negotiate a discount for Security. Jon is still reluctant to allow them in public spaces.

"Also, Chen's been working with Li to arrange our ship platform. No reason he can't continue that without me. I'm conflicted about Australia," Jeff admitted, and paused to think about it. "I and don't know where that's going. I doubt he'll have occasion to deal with that. I'd like to get landing rights but keep getting the run around. When I held a news conference about the North Americans stealing our weapon from orbit pretty much everybody was hostile. They honestly seem to feel that no mere property is worth protecting with lethal force, unless you are a government, then it appears to be OK to shoot people down like a dog if they jay walk or enter a park after hours."

April couldn't help snickering at that.

"There was a journalist who caught my eye because he didn't ask any questions," Jeff related, "but he had that sharp attentive look, quite unlike the others. I arranged a private interview with him. I mean...I wanted him to have an opportunity to interview me in private. I thought he might be more forthcoming with questions away from his peers."

April said nothing, letting him go on or not as he wished.

"It turns out I was interviewing him more than the other way around," Jeff admitted. "I'm not sure it was wise, and I don't know how serious to take his remarks. He intimated he is unhappy in his work and unable to speak honestly, avoiding controversy instead. He said I'm naive and that he used to be like me. I suggested he might be happier to emigrate to Home eventually, and invited him to consider that some time in the future. That seems stupid now, since he was predicting our experiment will fail horribly. He did admit there is a spectrum of opinion about us. So I'm still not sure which way public opinion is weighed there."

"Well you, we, have the ship. If the Australians don't want to grant landing rights we have a work around. I wouldn't give away too much or pay extravagant fees to have another access for Earth markets. We still have Tonga and they seem solid, if limited," April reminded him.

"We do have a resource. My grandparents on my mother's side still live in Australia. They've never been shy to tell me what they think. I've visited there when I was little, and my mom talks to her mom all the time," April said, but cut it off at that and frowned.

"But you don't now?" Jeff asked at the uncomfortable silence.

"It's always something now, I seem to set her off so easily. It's gotten so awkward speaking to her, because I'm weighing every word, and I still manage to upset her. My grandmother that is, my grandfather never says anything much, just pleasant generalities. My grandmother seems to think I'm eight years old and should still be at home under my mother's thumb."

"Your mother did vote against your majority. I remember you telling me that. I take it she hasn't softened?" Jeff asked.

"I'm not certain what her problem is with me," April admitted. "We'll talk once and she'll have news to share and tell me all about her students and things she's done with the lessons. But then the next time she'll be critical and upset about something she read about me in the gossip boards or a friend told her. I told her just not to read those sites, they never have anything good to say about
anybody
."

"I don't appreciate my father, and how well we get along, like I should sometimes," Jeff said.

"And you have the bonus of a wonderful mother-in-law," April reminded him.

"I do. We don't talk a lot, but it's not because of conflict, like you with your mother or grandmother. We're just both so busy...Do you propose asking your grandparents, maybe just your grandpa to see how their friends and neighbors feel about spacers?"

"Yes. I'll have to think on how to approach them. They have a common com code and my grandmother answers most of the time. There's no way to get my grandpa on com for sure instead of her. It's been long enough since we talked I may call and just try to catch up on social things and then do another call later to ask questions,
if
the first call goes well enough. But not now."

"No?"

"No, that's business, and you are
off
today. I think you need to take me to the Fox and Hare for a nice dinner and to look around and see some people. I have a dress, well more of a tunic, that hasn't been seen in public. Do you want to ask anyone along?" April offered.

"It's pretty hard to
take
you there, when you're an owner and won't be charged. I could take you to the Quiet Retreat, and that way I can pay for it. I'd rather have you all to myself. We can speak freely and come and go when we want."

"The Retreat is
too
quiet for me. It's
taking
me if I walk in on your arm. I don't think either one of us is going to worry about the price of dinner. But do you have something suitable to wear so people don't mistake you for my server and try to wave you over to get a drink?"

"I haven't bought anything in ages," Jeff admitted. "I'd bet you've seen every piece I own."

"Then it's good we have some time. I'll take you shopping and you can get something cut to measure and auto-tailored in plenty of time," April insisted. "I'll pick for you."

"Maybe," Jeff agreed. She had a mischievous smile.

* * *

"Are you sure I don't look ridiculous?" Jeff worried. There wasn't a mirror handy but he looked down at himself, uncertain, fussed with the new jacket and tugged the cuffs out.

"Would I set you up to look silly?" April asked.

"Not on purpose."

April suppressed a flash of irritation. It's true she didn't have any credentials as a clothing designer. She tried a different tack. "Would Frank dress you in anything that would not reflect well on his or Cindy's reputations as designers? Or put you out the door in anything less than well crafted?"

That was different. April could see on his face that her second argument spoke to how Jeff
thought
. He didn't know anything about fashion, he wasn't sure
she
knew anything about fashion, especially men's fashion, but he'd seen lots of little comments in the local news sites and social boards that made it clear Frank and Cindy had a following of people Jeff respected. He'd take their consensus.

It was true jackets were not a common item of dress wear on Home. Part of that was because it was a fully controlled environment. A word to the house computer would raise or lower the temperature. The few men who did wear them were older and rather conservative. Mr. Muños for example, often wore not just a jacket, but a business suit, though even he skipped the tie. The tie was in danger of being inseparably identified with Earth, which would pretty much kill it even as a future fad.

The jacket wasn't the very structured sort with padded shoulders. Jeff was slim and it enhanced his natural form instead of trying to make him look muscular. April had seen some very fine European suits. Heather's mother had clients who wore that sort of thing. This was softer and much less bulky. The lapels were plain and narrow. There was no button closure, but it hung closed when standing, and the sleeves short enough to show off the fancy shirt cuffs.

The very plain deep chocolate brown jacket served to frame a very busy shirt with brighter tones of tan to bronze in geometric patterns and solid color lining on the cuffs and collar showing. The jacket fabric looked plain at a glance but when he moved there were tiny flashes of light. Not as gaudy as a sequined garment, but certainly not boring.

The pants were dead black, but had a stripe down the side of the leg with the same sparkly points of light. Jeff drew the line at hard shoes, buying a pair of soft Moon boots in flat black. The whole outfit worked very well with his coppery Indian skin.

April considered the overall effect critically and went to look through her things. Her brother had left her a few things as an inheritance. A beautiful Hermes silk tie nobody she knew would wear. A pair of earrings that were definitely not Jeff's style, and a gold anchor chain she sometimes wore herself. But tonight she draped it around Jeff's neck.

"There, it's a loan not a gift. I'm attached to it."

"Really?" he asked, fingering it. "It must be a hundred grams."

"About half again that, most anchor chains are made hollow, but this one is solid. And yes, you never wear jewelry, but it's yellow gold, and it goes with the outfit perfectly without being too much. It would be way too much bling for a t-shirt and jeans, but not this."

"I put myself in your hands," Jeff said. "Except the stupid shoes."

* * *

"Would you like to have a snack or get coffee?" Kurt asked his pilot back at Armstrong.

"I'm still full from New Marseille," Deloris said. "Those heavy sauces stick with you. But I bought two bottles of cognac there to bring back and sell. Maybe I can sell one and we can go back to our apartment and crack the other one open," she suggested.

That surprised Kurt. He'd been really enjoying talking and trading stories with her, but had dismissed the possibility of any romantic interest hours ago. He just didn't see it in her face or body language at all, but this invitation said otherwise..."You said you have partners. They won't mind a sudden guest they've never met? We could go to my place," Kurt offered, still off balance from the sudden shift in his perception of her interest.

"You said it's really tiny. Ours is comfortable for three, and I don't expect to see them anyway. Our shifts are so crazy. Last I checked the work schedule Barak won't be back for a half shift and Alice for almost ten hours."

"It would be nice to be able to turn around without bumping something," Kurt nodded agreement.

When they arrived however, Barak was on the lounge with Alice's head on his shoulder. They had an old movie on the wall screen and were sharing a big bowl of popcorn. Barak was in shorts and pink footies, and Alice was wearing a T-shirt suitable for a giant. They were obviously not expecting any company.

"You're off?" Deloris said, surprised. "It's a miracle."

"The boring machine broke down and they said they didn't need me in the way," Barak said.

"I had the opposite," Alice admitted. "Against all odds nothing of mine busted."

"We haven't all three had off at the same time in
months
," Deloris said.

"I shouldn't butt in then," Kurt said, taking a step back to excuse himself.

"What do you mean? It's going to be a
party
, and you want to leave?" Deloris asked.

"Oh please stay," Alice said. "Deloris just took you to New Marseille right? We'd love to hear the whole story without her embellishments."

"Just for that I'm not going to tell you about dodging space pirates on the way back," Deloris said.

Kurt looked from Alice to Deloris, uncertain. "Is that good with you?" he asked Barak directly.

Barak regarded him with a somber expression. "I have found things go much smoother if you do-not-argue-with-the-ladies. They have more experience in life than I do, so putting myself in their hands, I have only learned and benefited from their wisdom."

"Well, how can I argue with such an endorsement?" Kurt decided. "Is there more popcorn?"

* * *

"What do you think?" Heather asked, after Dakota saw the condensed video.

"He still scares the snot right out of me," Dakota said. But Heather knew her manner of speaking. She hadn't clipped the end of the statement off abruptly, closing it, so Heather waited.

"But he might be useful to put a little fear in others," Dakota admitted. "I'm sure Monsieur Poincaré is not stupid. He has to realize Kurt would employ the same pragmatic strategy towards
him
if it should ever become necessary to shoot, shovel and shut up."

"You may be right," Heather decided. "If that causes him to tread a little lighter with us that's not entirely a bad thing," Heather agreed. "Kurt did exactly as instructed and disclaimed any authority, but Poincaré is a politician. He may just take that as a token statement to maintain
my
deniability."

"You'd never use him as a...mechanic, would you?" Dakota asked darkly.

"Certainly not, but one might have to be careful with a man like this. If you sent him the wrong signals he might do a little
volunteer
work. I'll be careful of that," Heather promised.