April 8: It's Always Something (32 page)

They were about ten minutes early, cutting it finer than Jeff had planned. There were about thirty people lined up along the side. Someone, probably Mr. Muños, had managed to convince them all to stay to one side. Jeff only recognized about half of them. A few looked like they were beam dogs by their attire. He saw three with video gear, but one surprised him. Adzusa Santos was there with a full professional video rig. He had no idea she was on the hab, and April would certainly have certainly told him if she'd known.

April squeezed his arm and gave him peck on the cheek. She didn't have anything more to say and went over to Adzusa and gave her a hug.

"Mr. Singh," Eduardo Muños, called to him, and motioned him over.

Patrick, or whatever his real name was, was waiting there. He was dressed in heavy trousers with a substantial belt, but a thin sleeveless shirt with no arms. It showed off that he was obviously a serious body builder. His arms were cords of intertwined muscles. He had tattoos, which surprised Jeff. God's Warriors opposed any body modification, not just internal gene mod, but tattoos and piercings. Even pierced ears. But then he probably got them before joining the movement, Jeff decided.

"It is my obligation to ask both parties if an accommodation can be made before blood is spilled," Mr. Muños said.

"Just get
on
with it old man," Patrick said disrespectfully.

"No. First I'll have my say, then we'll 'Get on with it.'" Muños said evenly. "Should you survive, Mr. Patrick, you will have a day of life, and then tomorrow morning you will meet me here at the same time and place and I'll have the pleasure of killing you for your cheek."

"I have no regard for what you consider your honor," Patrick said, "or your opinion of mine. I intend to leave Home on the first shuttle to anywhere after killing Mr. Singh. Your assembly will not have to expel me. Your death has no value to me and my business here will have been done."

"I see," Muños said icily. "Do you have your choice of weapons?"

"I do." Patrick removed the case under his elbow and opened the lid for Muños. There were two daggers in the felt lined case, points both in the same direction, oddly. Most cases for presentation of knives or pistols placed them facing in opposite directions for a pleasing symmetry. Not entirely utilitarian, the daggers were of fancy Damascus steel, the blades heavily etched to show off the pattern. The guards were minimalist, more to keep one's hand from the blade than to fend off another. The hilts wound with twisted wire like a classic sword, for a good grip.

Muños took the entire case and turned, laying it on the floor, hiding his actions with his back. He picked up the weapons, taking them completely out of the sight of the duelists, so Patrick would have no advantage if they were not equal weapons in every way. Patrick looked very uncomfortable. When Muños turned around he offered Jeff the choice of the two.

Jeff picked the one in Muños left hand. It was a little closer to him. When Muños gave the other to Patrick he observed the oddest thing. Patrick got very still for an instant when Muños thrust his hand out to offer it. Then he took it with an unnatural delicacy for a man accustomed to weapons. His fingers held carefully, like it was glass and he was scared he'd drop it. Jeff examined the man's face, but it showed nothing, except contempt for Jeff.

"You shall both walk each way ten paces at my command," Muños instructed. "Turn and face each other. I shall drop this handkerchief," he said, withdrawing a silk pocket square from his jacket. If you turn or charge before you have reached ten paces or before the handkerchief reaches the deck, it's my responsibility to burn you down before you can engage the other illegally." He drew back his jacket to show his weapon and establish he was prepared to do so.

Jeff couldn't remember if Muños ever showed a weapon conducting the Assembly, but he had to look when Muños said burn instead of shoot. It was a laser pistol of his own manufacture.

"A gentleman of your age, shouldn't you have your pistol in hand if you intend to intervene?" Patrick asked with false delicacy.

"Do you think so?" Muños asked. Suddenly the laser was under the man's chin, rock steady, the pressure of it tilting his head back. It happened so fast it was like a magic trick, the move from belt to chin unseen. He might as well have plucked it from behind Patrick's ear, like a coin whose appearance was a mystery. Jeff suddenly decided Muños had found time to have some deep gene mods.

"Perhaps not," Patrick allowed. If he was rattled he didn't show it. But he had not managed to display the slightest ability to react in time to protect himself. Jeff had to wonder that he didn't learn anything from that. Did the man think he would be slower than Muños? Did he have a fanatical belief in divine intervention? Muños put the pistol back in its holster with exaggerated slowness. For the first time Patrick didn't radiate arrogance, but that was too late and not enough change to matter.

"Turn, gentlemen, and advance your pace by my count." When he was done and at ten he instructed them to face each other. Jeff removed his jacket, retaining it by the collar, and switched the knife to his right hand. He'd accepted it with his left. Patrick considered and switched hands to the opposite. Jeff was surprised he didn't object to the jacket as an unfair advantage. Still, Jeff was examining the dagger carefully, still trying to figure out Patrick's strange behavior. He turned the blade and watched the light play off the pattern and the thin shiny cutting edge. Then he saw it. The very point, for only a few millimeters had a
stain
. It wasn't quite as shiny as it should be. Nobody maintaining such showy pieces would have failed to wipe them quite clean.

Muños looked from one to another and dropped the red silk to the deck.

Patrick took a step forward confidently, but stopped and looked astonished when Jeff rushed at him headlong. A couple steps into it Jeff hauled back with his arm to throw. There was no subtlety to it and it was telegraphed plainly to Patrick. Jeff had no experience throwing knives. There was no effort to try to make it arrive point forward. He just threw it as hard and as fast as his gene altered muscles and reflexes allowed. Which was very fast indeed.

Patrick unlocked his knees and started to duck under the throw. He was far too slow and only succeeded in lowering his face into the path of the weapon when it would have caught his chest had he stayed still.

He did however manage to get an arm up to fend it off. It bounced off high from his upswept arm, leaving a streak of red showing across his forearm. After almost hitting the overhead, it struck one of the beam dogs who cried out angrily. Jeff had no idea if Patrick even felt the cut. Jeff changed direction and switched his lead foot, cutting across the man as he slashed at Jeff, passing him on the opposite side he expected and sweeping his jacket down to deflect a cut already awkward for being on the wrong side.

They both whirled about, Jeff turning faster but he stopped, facing back, and didn't close on Patrick again. They were almost as far apart now as when they had turned at Muños' command. Patrick never did turn completely to start back at Jeff. He stumbled as he turned, took three steps sideways and then one backward, each slower than the last, off balance like a drunk and fell. He did try to throw his weapon, far too late, falling over backwards and half way to the deck. It landed barely a third of the way back towards Jeff, and hardly slid at all on the nonskid deck covering.

Patrick went into horrid convulsions, his back arching. He looked like he was trying to shake himself apart. Jeff was sick and horrified to see the beam dog who was struck doing the same thing. His partners were trying to help him, except for the fellow who, figuring the situation out quickly, stepped on the blade and held it down covered before anyone could try to pick it up.

Jeff walked over and picked up the dagger between them
very
carefully, holding the point safely high in the air away from casual contact, before anyone approached him. "I claim this trophy by right of battle," he announced.

Mr. Muños went over, to recover the other, and put it in the case. The beam dog talked to him to make sure he understood the hazard before he'd consent to remove his foot.

"For God's sake be careful with that," Jeff said when Muños offered the open case to collect the second weapon.

"I
know
," Muños said, fastening the clasps with special care. "Unless you object, I'm going to put a couple turns of tamper-proof tape around this. It scares me as bad as a box of cobras."

"It might
be
cobra venom for all I know," Jeff pointed out. "Maybe worse. I have no idea what works in seconds like that."

Jeff turned his jacket in his hand to find the front and put it back on. There was a slit down the back most of the way from the collar to the very hem.

"There might be toxin on that," Muños warned. "give it to me and I'll have the medic bag it as biohazard."

Jeff handed it over with exaggerated caution. Holding it away from him. When Muños turned away to do dispose of it Jeff finally turned himself to join his people.

"I hope you don't mind, I've invited Adzusa to come have breakfast with us," April said.

"It's not like we had a private tête-à-tête scheduled
,
" Jeff said. "The more the merrier, but I'm afraid I ruined my good jacket. I'd be scared of it now even dry cleaned and vacuum tumbled."

"
That
we'll speak about later," April promised. "In private."

Chapter 23

"This is unacceptable," Colonel Norman declared, like the universe trembled at his displeasure. "I want a fast plane, a hypersonic if one is serviced and on call, with a big enough weapon to take out that damned bulk carrier and anything remotely near it, including the
Silverfish
. Who the devil named that anyway? It sounds like a stinking bug."

"The Secretary of the Navy," his aide said, "back...under the Wiggen administration." One had to be careful how things were phrased. "Under the last elected administration," would be construed as a critical statement. You might as well say under the last legitimate government. "The man probably never
saw
a silver fish in his life. Be glad some Senator didn't urge him to name it the
Cockroach
."

"
Treat
it like one," Norman ordered. "I want it squashed, and I want immediate word when that is accomplished. It's out in the middle of the Pacific, nobody is close enough to argue they're harmed, only a few nations have enough satellite coverage to even
know
it happened."

And why is that?
His aide thought, but refrained from asking the colonel. It took too many mental steps for the boozer to connect the fact the Homies pretty much cleared the sky of sats a couple years back, to the idea they might be irritated and do something nasty if their ship was harmed.

"Yes, Sir, Sending that to Hawaii right now. It's the closest place to launch a weapon," he said.
And if they retaliate, they will know it was from there, not anywhere near us
, was his other thought.

Unable to connect PACCOM, his screen said, in a red rectangular box. Secure cable does not show response. Civilian pipe also down. The last told him it wasn't a single point error.

"Switch priority cable traffic to an encrypted satellite link." He chose off the message form.

"Ground station Maui does not respond. Uplink tests and confirms. Downlink unable to get station confirmation on ping," the screen said.

"Test secure terrestrial radio link, PACCOM, now." He selected, and waited a few seconds.

"No automated response from far station. San Diego, Seattle and Anchorage all report failure," the system reported.

Crud...It's always something,
he thought.

"I'm sorry Sir, I have no com to Hawaii," he said.

"That's impossible," Colonel Norman said.

* * *

It really wasn't a party. April was glad nobody reveled in bloodshed or cracked jokes. Still, the gathering wasn't as somber as a funeral, but it wasn't a celebration. The mood was predominately relief. April called before even heading home and ordered up a big buffet. It might have made more sense, as many as they ended up with in her apartment, to just go to the cafeteria.

Jon was deep in discussion with Chen, Irwin with Tetsu, and Muños came in late with somebody she didn't know in tow and got in a long conversation with Jeff. That was fine with April because it allowed here to drag Adzusa off to one end of a couch and interrogate her over coffee.

"This duel happened too fast for you to have heard about it and come from Earth, so you were here already," April reasoned. "Can you talk about why, or is it a big secret?"

"Not at all. I'm here because Mitsubishi took control of the habitat again," Adzusa said. "It has generated far more interest in Japan than you might think from the news. Of course, nobody is pushing a public debate about it, because it's seen as defying the North Americans. Another time the various political parties would be arguing with each other over this sort of an action. Now, everybody is sort of holding their breath, because the North Americans aren't regarded as very stable. In fact, some privately say they are institutionally insane. Nobody want to take a hard position that could become very uncomfortable if the USNA government, or one of its factions takes note of it. If the North Americans start something like a trade war, the outspoken could catch some of the blame for supporting the removal. Or worse, they could counsel caution and be seen as siding with the Americans. That wouldn't be very popular right now."

"How do
you
feel about it?" April asked.

Adzusa opened her mouth and visibly caught herself and shut it again. Then she looked over everybody in the room, which April found paranoid. Did she think any of them might be USNA agents?
Still, even after her inspection, she answered very carefully.

"It's probably a good thing they test themselves on...a lesser issue. I think further estrangement is inevitable. If a greater issue presented itself, suddenly, then I'm not sure they wouldn't fall back on habit and knuckle under to the North Americans."

"You sounded like a politician testifying before an investigating committee," April complained.

"I have people who trust me that I must be careful not to compromise, even by accident." Adzusa said.

"Probably some of the same people you're talking about didn't trust me enough to confide in me. I'm just much better at figuring things out than what they'll credit me. That doesn't mean I feel free to say just anything when I know it'll cause them trouble, even if I'm not sworn to secrecy."

"Anybody else, I'd think that was over the top puffery. But I've seen you connect the dots often enough I wouldn't bet on it," Adzusa said.

April just nodded. She had no desire to try to weasel more out of Adzusa on that topic. If she succeeded it would just upset her and worry her later. "Still, even if it's not the story you came to cover, you have the video and the story of the duel. Do we have to worry about the North Americans having a fit when they see it?"

"I don't think so," Adzusa said. "My mentor, Genji Akira, hasn't been automatically issuing his stories in both Japanese and English as was his custom for some time. That may cost him some readership in other areas, like Europe, but he has never wanted to be known as a provocateur. He also is being...careful. There are strong opinions he may wish to express soon, and saying the wrong things now could weaken his ability to steer the debate later. I agree, and continue to bow to his expertise. I'd never insist on something going out differently under my name unless I strongly disagreed on principle, and was ready to abandon his sponsorship."

April disliked all the weasel wording. It had very low information content.
What
big issue did Genji expect to surface on which he wanted room to maneuver? Adzusa hadn't quite promised the video wouldn't be distributed to the North Americans. Like anything loose on the web a few people will have the ability to find it and translate it, but if it wasn't published as public content by a big service it would never be a social
force
. That would have to be sufficient.

April steered the conversation to her Hawaiian house, people she knew, and general gossip about Hawaii. Even that produced caution in Adzusa's replies. It really must be unstable if she was so worried. When Muños headed out the door with the fellow he'd brought along Adzusa begged off, saying she had to intercept them in the corridor and try to get an interview. April was glad to give that her blessing. She'd sucked everything out of Adzusa she was going to get.

Everybody else left fairly quickly, and April was alone with Jeff, who was still on his phone, deep in an earnest conversation with someone. He had to be exhausted after the duel and playing host to the mob after, but she wasn't his mother. She had plenty to keep her busy until he was free.

* * *

"I was worried Adzusa would post a big story about the duel and get the North Americans all upset again..." Jeff said when finally free. He was looking at his pad perplexed. Everybody else was long gone from April's place, and it was afternoon, but they were far too stuffed from an extravagant breakfast to have even thought about lunch.

"I had similar thoughts, and discussed it with Adzusa. My take is the video would be hugely embarrassing to the North Americans, not you," April insisted. "I wouldn't worry about Adzusa releasing it. She indicated her service, well at least her boss, Genji, isn't keen on posting sensitive materials to the English language market. For reasons she wouldn't make entirely clear. But even if some of it leaks out, Patrick was a cheater and a foul poisoner, and he still managed to murder an innocent bystander besides losing spectacularly. That aside, I'm hearing a huge
but
...in your statement," April guessed.

"Yes, a couple buts. Maybe related." Then he appeared to change his mind. "Or maybe not..."

"Well, just tell me what happened without all the anguish and analysis," April insisted.

"First of all, the
Isle of
Hawaiki
had a submarine lurking nearby when my man, Bill Avis, was doing the testing of our defense submersibles."

"That's not good," April stated the obvious.

"Well no. But it responded rather erratically to his testing and maneuvers," Jeff said. "They acted like they were going to withdraw, and then turned around and came back. Then they started pinging the
Isle
every couple of minutes so she would know exactly where they were. Billy assures me that isn't anything any sane submariner would do."

"They had no choice. They were ordered to turn back," April deduced immediately.

"You're right," Jeff agreed, surprised again at April's perceptiveness, "but they didn't know it at the time. Billy started pinging them back, echoing their signal, in effect saying, "We hear you," until they got pretty close to the submersible drone in front of them."

"That must have been nerve racking. This drone, did it work pretty well when they were testing it? Would the sub have been concerned about it?" April asked.

"Yeah it was able to get up to almost a hundred eighty knots. Faster than any big ship. It might be faster even but Billy saw some problems at that speed and doesn't want to push it any faster right now. The other one though, the original one that is built like a tube seems a bust. It couldn't break through sixty knots even pushed much harder than the other one. I think we'll just retire it and bust it up.

"I don't
think
in knots," April admitted. "What is 180 knots in kilometers per hour?"

Jeff had to check his pad, or at least needed to if he wanted to be exact. "330kph."

"That sounds pretty fast for under water. That's as fast as most aircars can go," April remembered. "No wonder they didn't want to try to get past it."

"When they got in closer Billy used the targeting sonar on the spike of the submersible and started sending them Morse code."

"I forget about that stuff. I probably wouldn't have thought to do that," April admitted.

"To leave out a lot of pointless detail, they wanted to surrender," Jeff said.

"Just like the Chinese ship that came in here and wanted to surrender."

"Yes, and just as chancy. Who knew if they really wanted to surrender, or just get close enough they could launch a missile from so close in they couldn't miss, and we wouldn't have time to intercept?"

"I take it that's been established?" April asked.

"The sub is tethered on a boom they fabricated pretty quickly and are trailing off their stern. They are cutting a lot of high end equipment out of her. Some of it is interesting enough that it will be coming back up on the
Chariot
," Jeff said.

"And when it's stripped?" April asked.

"Australia has been kind of lukewarm about allying with us. Even allowing us landing rights. I'm going to call that reporter I talked to, Brett Holland, and ask his opinion on who in their government would care about getting the kind of tech this hull will have, and try to use it as a bargaining chip to get landing rights. I know we have the
Isle of
Hawaiki
now, but landing on a runway is cheaper and the more choices we have the better for us. For everybody," Jeff decided.

"The crew are going to be more of a problem," Jeff admitted. "Billy had already explained we are so packed with immigrants that people are renting out sleeping space on their floors before they ever called me. So they were not surprised I had no way to start bringing then up immediately. They're going to have to take our word that we will work a deal with the Australians if we can. If not we'll pay them on our own for the sub. I'd rather partner to share the cost if we can.

"I gave Billy authority to negotiate for me, in their hearing. He already has two of them agreeing to stay on the
Isle of
Hawaiki
as temporary crew. Three of them will go to Australia even if the sub doesn't. The main thing is they can tell we intend to treat them well one way or another. They are all welcome to come to Home when there is housing. I will lift them even if I have to put temporary seats in and lift them with the
Dionysus' Chariot.
I told Billy to promise that. It would take two lifts too...expensive."

"I thought Billy was Dave's employee, just there to test your submersibles?" April said. "But you're saying 'my man' now. Was he an agent and you never mentioned it?"

"Well he is, and was, Dave's man, but he'd already started talking to them. He'd established a rapport with them, partly because he
wasn't
my rep. They trusted he didn't have an agenda. By that time they were dead close to each other and talking on a jury rigged hydrophone.