April (22 page)

April thought about it. She had always thought the pilots of the shuttles were pretty exotic. She knew she would never be able to fly a shuttle, but this would be fun to go to other habitats, almost as good as being a real shuttle pilot. She had only been once to ISSII, for an orbit to orbit trip, not even overnight and of course there was the money. Bob had stopped selling and was letting her think about it. He knew when to stop pushing and let her talk herself into it.

"It's not just junk? It can really carry enough to make money?"

"It's a four engine, orbit to orbit rated, but needs upgraded avionics first and it has a great big old fashioned carbon fiber pressure cabin, like a bank vault from ambulance service, with  side by side seats for crew. It even looks decent, not old and junky." He glanced at his mom again and said real low - "I'm kind of committed already. I had to put a deposit down to hold it and mom and dad will croak if I have to let it go and lose it."

"You don't have to meet any age requirement to be certified?" she asked.

"Nope, - already looked into it. No age requirement and most people can pass the traffic and navigation tests after about 12 weeks of study. I know you. You're smart enough to cram it a lot faster. The scooter has to go through an overhaul and have some equipment added for orbit to orbit anyway. So we both have time to get our tickets. It's a nice enough little scooter, but the companies all want bigger motors to push bigger loads around now. There are still tons of spare parts though, so the repair shop is happy to get a chance to sell some work on them and unload some part inventory which will be obsolete soon. We get a cheap scooter, a cheap rebuild and they are happy to recover some unexpected money. Sound sweet?"

"Okay Bob. You have never got us into anything which didn't make at least some money, so I will do the training and help you, but you have to do the business plan and show mom and dad how it will work, so they OK us using our money for it."

"I can take care of everything else and if you'll just train to pilot, I will be happy to give you thirty percent stake in the company. Sound sweet?" he asked all cheerful.

"Sounds like your usual trying to pull one on your little sister," she said with genuine irritation. What she said in face talk was less polite. He was really getting blatant about taking advantage if she let him. "That will happen when pigs pilot your scooter. I'd want thirty percent to study to fly, with none of my money in it. You're not
giving
me anything. Be happy I'll give you control, by taking forty-nine percent. Only because I'm sticking you with most of the detail work of actually running it."

"I
should
demand fifty-fifty, if the money splits the same way. Besides, I've gotten into something with Heather and Jeff, which may give us access to some power systems other people don't have commercially available.  It's new stuff and new enough it may make our scooter more profitable to operate than the other companies, if Jeff will OK us using it. I think he'll license it to us if I ask right."

Bob was like a bird dog at point - totally alert. "Can you give me a hint at least, so I can be thinking about how it would integrate with the business plan?" he pleaded.

"Do you swear to keep it to yourself and be totally, carefully secretive, with all your files and writing about it? Send nothing across com and not talk where you might be recorded?"

"It's really big enough to be so concerned?" he asked. At least it seemed possible to him.

"Yeah, it's big. The USNA ran a spy up a couple shuttles back, trying to find the stuff. Then he dropped his disguise early and jumped to an USNA space plane to get away."

"You're just a tease, feeding me little bits and pieces aren't you?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, but it's not to be mean. It's so complicated it would take the rest of the day to explain everything and I have to go see Heather and Jeff at her place tonight about more of it. You're the one who has a head for business, Jeff can make a fusion generator the size of a flashlight, which can pump out about thirty kilowatts."

She just walked along for awhile and let him absorb that huge data dump.

"You've seen an actual working model? It's not just vaporware?"

"Yeah, he also has a storage battery sort of device to level the load, which can handle the output of the generator."

"How much capacity?" he asked in a small voice, which said he believed her.

"The one he showed me was about two million kilowatt hours."

"It changes everything," he said. "The whole economy of small devices has to be rethought."

"I know."

"Don't worry. I'll keep this real quiet. I may tape my mouth shut in case I talk in my sleep. It's going to take some time to even absorb it," he admitted. "I have some stocks I have to dump, before this stuff goes public too."

"When we get home, I'll show you a couple things," she offered. "I don't want to show some of the stuff to anybody else yet." It wasn't far to their door, but he walked the rest of the way thinking silently.

It was the middle of his workday, but their dad was home and waiting to see them. He said hi briefly to Bob, but was really waiting there for a long hug from his wife.

"You're probably starved, right?" he asked her, still hanging on to her.

"Yeah, they do try to make sure you're empty for the flight on the up end. It's stupid if you are an old hand and know if you get sick or not. I'm hungry and all keyed up. Let's go out for lunch. I want to see the place some more and then we can come back and talk," Faye suggested.

"We're going to the cafeteria," her dad announced. And she noticed he didn't invite them. "See you kids later tonight."

Bob dumped his load on the couch and started pawing through it.

"There is a big case coming Gramps sent to you, as soon as baggage is delivered. It couldn't go carry-on, so I checked it. Here are your electronics," he said placing a medium sized box between them. "But I have your netsuke here," he said digging out a smaller box. He handed her a small gift type box with a tucked in flap. She opened it up and found the netsuke was rolled in a large square of silk, like a scarf with hemmed edges. It seemed larger in her hands than it looked in her grandfather's hands.

She rolled it around feeling the smoothness of it. It didn't have the chill feel of metal or even plastic. There was nothing angular or pointed about it, to poke at you. It still had soft warm colors where it had been stained originally, but faded now and a faint yellowish cast from age.

"What did he send me you couldn't just be carry on? He said it was a surprise, but I have no idea what it is."

"I promised I'd let you unpack it without spoiling it. In fact, I am going to set my pad to record you opening it and send it to Gramps," he decided. He went in the kitchen and started making some tea. "Do you want a mug too?" he asked.

"Please," she agreed. And watched him pop a couple sandwiches in to heat also.

"I'm not as starved as mom. I know they make you report early and make food unavailable to keep the mess down from the people who get sick, but I never had any problem getting spacesick, so I stuffed a couple extra breakfast sandwiches in my pockets when we had breakfast in Melbourne. I still had one left when we were ballistic coming into M3 and finished it off in zero-G, being real careful not to lose any crumbs. This guy in a business suit across from us was doing OK until he saw me eating a sausage sandwich and got a whiff of it, so he spent the rest of the way into dock with dry heaves, holding the bag over his mouth. The steward was really pissed at me."

April got the giggles picturing the steward glaring at her brother. Some new people could not force down a sip of water in zero-G. Some would even choke on their own spit. There were not many who could wolf down a greasy sausage sandwich and keep it.

"I was going to show you this in my room, but since Dad took Mom out I'll run it here," she put her pad out on the counter and took out her scanner also.

"Scanner listen as we talk and report with an alarm if you detect any bugs. Report any traffic containing key words Lewis, Lewis and Robert, Lewis and Bob, Lewis and April. End scan instructions. You will probably be needing some things like this," she told Bob. I'll see it gets made for you."

"Who are you? And what have you done with my little sister?" he joked.

She put the video of the spy jumping from the airlock on and sat watching how Bob reacted, rather than the video. He ate and drank tea, but never looked away from the screen until it was done and the lights came back up.

"So figure this guy could have been here to spy about the Rock," April suggested. "You have to factor in your business plans that there might be trouble over it." She didn't reveal more about Jeff's business or their association. Bob wasn't that trustworthy.

"I already was thinking that sis, but thanks for giving me some solid intelligence."

The door chime announced someone was there. Bob spoke up. "Yes who is it?"

"Qantas-AO, baggage for Robert Lewis, please?"

"OK, coming," he said and went to the door. April watched from her seat as he signed with his hanko, which was a legal signature on M3. He held it still against the manifest for a second after touching the print button, to make sure it made a clean holograph and looked at the embossed image when he lifted it.

When the worker was out the door, he brought a long narrow package back to the counter. He worked for a long time opening the end and pulling packing out until he was satisfied and got his pad set it so the cam could record her receiving her grandpa's gift. First he gave her a handwritten note and a manifest, then turned the box around to give her access to the open end.

April took the note and read aloud for the pad. "Dear April, My great grandfather, your great, great, grandfather fought the Japanese in World War Two and during the occupation the Japanese were required to surrender even their household weapons. This was a great humiliation for some families, who held swords for generations. Some were hundreds of years old. Now some Japanese families are tracking down the people holding these swords and suing for their return as stolen art. I feel some, like these, were honestly given as a trophy of surrender. I want to pass them on to you as an inheritance, without a paper trail, before such a challenge has a chance to happen to us. The two weapons are a set and they are usually displayed on a wooden rack, but it was not brought back by my grandfather. They probably didn't give it to him."

"These are of some substantial value, but I hope you will continue to keep them as a family treasure. If you wish to research it, you can easily find a display for them. Be very, very, careful examining them. They are extremely sharp and it is easy to hurt yourself with the slightest touch. I respectfully suggest you don't touch the blade, until you read how to care for them. I hope you are pleased. Your Grandmother and I send our love. Happy birthday granddaughter. Please note the shipping form." April turned to the printed sheet and read. It informed her she was in receipt of one box, twenty-two kilograms, of mixed cutlery.

She reached in and withdrew a long shape in a heavy silk bag, which was covered with colored designs of cranes and wetlands vegetation. It was heavy. There was a faint smell of something - incense perhaps?

Opening the bag she uncovered a handle wrapped in crisscross pattern of leather which had a nappy feel to it, almost like a sheet of fine abrasive paper. It was close to 300mm long. The handle ended in a dark metal guard which was not quite round. It was deeply embossed and pierced with a design, including what looked like gold fish. The fish and other parts of the design appeared to be washed with gold. The scabbard was lacquered, with a hanging ring and a design appeared faintly through the lacquer. The blade was thick along the back only and had a flat faceted look to it with a mottled pattern running through the metal and despite the high polish there was a dark wavy pattern running along the cutting edge. The tip had a sharp angular break up to the point, not a gradual curve. There was a very slight graceful curve to the whole blade.

The blade had some scars – long galled scrapes that surprised her on such a beautiful blade. Then, with an insight that sent chills down her back, she realized those were the marks of having been used against another weapon. It was beautiful but functional, not just a showpiece. The blade itself had to be close to 700mm past the guard. So the whole thing was near a meter long. Stood on end it would come up almost to her armpit. She slide it back closed and left it on the counter.

When she reached in the smaller weapon was wrapped separately in a roll up, with ribbons instead of a bag. When she opened the mat the knife was big, over half the size of the big one, but proportioned much better to her size. There was a bundle of letters with the smaller one.

April looked up at the cam. "Thank you Grandpa. I will read about these and learn how to handle them carefully and preserve them unharmed. I appreciate being trusted with a family treasure. I am very pleased with them and the lovely netsuke also. They're incredibly beautiful. Thank you."

Bob, with his usual good timing, reached and ended the recording.

"Thanks for bringing these Bob," April said. "I'm worried though. Are you feeling slighted? Did they give you anything or just send you back empty handed?"

Bob got a big grin. "I'll show you," he said and disappeared in his room for a moment. When he came out he sat across from April again and said, "What do you think?"

He had changed his earrings in his room and had on a new pair she had never seen. They were fabulous. Each had a single huge emerald, with a large triangular diamond above, with the post behind the top point of the diamond set in yellow gold.

"Are those real stones?" She asked in awe.

"You better believe it. They are natural stones, with certificates for each stone. They were Grandma's, but she said something this gaudy is for young people. Do you know how lucky we are, to have grandparents who don't just automatically give the girl jewelry and the boy weapons? I didn't tell them those swords give me the creepy chills. I can just see myself cutting my fingers off with those things. I don't even cut my sandwich in two in the kitchen."