April (23 page)

April felt good. This was how she and her brother had been together, before they started being competitive and not trusting each other. But being with him wore her down now, being on guard and she was ready to stop while they were on a positive note and go off to her room where she could relax again, so she wrapped it up.

"Thanks Bob, leave me a report on my com about what classes I have to take for the scooter pilot's license, Okay?" She gathered the swords up to carry to her room. "It's nice having you guys back, but I wish some of us were down at gramps' place, when this Rock thing goes to trial. I am scared it's going to be dangerous here for awhile."

"Why would it be dangerous here April?" he asked, face screwed up all quizzical. If they want to take the Rock - well - there it is," he made a vague gesture toward it, that probably wasn't even the right direction. "I doubt we could stop them. Why mess with us, when they can land on it and take it with no problem?"

She explained Margaret's reasoning, that a commander would never expose her troops to such a nearby force without securing it.

 "It makes sense when you say it, but I would have never thought of it without you telling me."

Chapter 13

 April went in her room and laid the swords on the bed. She looked around the room. The only place open was against the wall, in the space between the com desk and the closet. It would be in front of her mirror, but it was the only bit of wall without something against it. It was a shame to fill it, because it felt less cluttered with some open space. She switched them over to the space to see if they would fit, laying them on the carpet. No time like the present she thought and went online to found some places selling martial arts equipment, for a rack to display the blades. Some racks were ornate. Some were downright tasteless, with gaudy decorations. She couldn't believe a gilded red rack carved with dragons. Who bought this crap? She found a black lacquered frame which was elegantly simple, rounded and smooth, a match for the scabbards and ordered it.

Reading the directions her grandfather had provided she realized how easy it would be to mar the polish or stain the blade with a finger print left and ignored. Examining the sheet which detailed the surrender, it was clear the owner had specifically surrendered them to her ancestor, rather than to some other person for whom they had no respect. There was a little wooden tag, or maybe bamboo, with a cord through a hole in it and Japanese characters brushed on, which detailed the rank and name of the person surrendering the weapons.

It just affirmed to her their possession was legitimate, when the owner chose the recipient so carefully. Even the family emblem was not defaced, which her grandpa's letter said was unusual, as they had often done such vandalism to cover the shame of surrender.

Acting on a hunch she called Jon's published office number and asked the receptionist if Jon could take a social call. In a few moments his face appeared and he looked relatively relaxed.

"A social call is it now? Are you off today, from fighting the forces of evil?" he asked with a big grin.

"I'm sorry," April said. "I was trying to reach Jon's Sanitary Services and I somehow got the wrong address"

"Well we are not shoveling much shit today, so I have my other hat on. What did you need? Should I put on my escort service hat and be your bodyguard for dinner?" he asked, shuffling invisible hats with his hands, "or something else?"

"Do you have a hat for the martial arts?" The mention of dinner unnerved her, because she could see John as an ally, but wasn't sure if she could deal with him socially. So she ignored that. "I saw your interchange with Jeff and wondered if you could tell me about a few things."

"I'm not really qualified as an instructor, nobody I know up here is, but there are a few of us who work out together and he honored me by calling me teacher, because I shared what I could with him as he had no formal instruction. It's nothing I could ask him to do. Are you interested in learning?" Jon asked.

"Maybe, beside the unarmed skills, do you know anything about weapons?"

"A little. A few people have practice weapons. What sort do you have in mind?"

"Let me show you." She got the long sword and returned to the console and instructed it to go wide angle on the cam. She drew the blade and it was too heavy to hold horizontal, so she rested the back of the blade on her left forearm on the fabric. She could not see any reaction from Jon, which was sort of a reaction in itself with him.

"That's not a practice weapon," he stated flatly. "Not even a reproduction is it?" he asked.

"No and I have the shorter one it matches also."

"Could you show me it also, please?"

She put away the long one and drew the shorter version.

"They're beautiful. Could you roll the blade to let the light play on it?" he asked.

She rolled the blade on its back for him.

"There are museums that would kill for those, do you understand?"

"You're welcome to see them yourself Jon," she offered. "They're what moved me to ask for help. I wondered if you could teach me the basics of handling them, without hurting myself and looking foolish."

"I think we can arrange something. The discipline Jeff and I study usually uses a little different sword, which is straight and sharpened down the back edge a little bit, but I don't see why you couldn't do the same exercises with what you have. I would start with the small sword, because the other will be too much for you until you have some stamina. You really need the unarmed skill as a base first though. Would you like to join us Wednesday in the gym, at 19:00?"

"Yes, Thanks Jon. I'll see you there."

In the living room she was happy to find her mom relaxed on the couch, with some quiet music playing and had a friendly chat about her visit with her parents and Australia. She got a good sense how the political situation was, from her mother's tale of stares and rude remarks in public places. It seemed she had gained some merit with her mom, because her grandparents agreed to investigate a move to live with them. Apparently it was the first crack in a solid wall of resistance.

Bringing up the idea the government might try to take the family investment away or act in any way against the station, ran into a wall of disbelief as solid as her grandparent's objections to leaving their home. Her mom felt sure if they took the Rock, the very least they would have to do would be to reimburse the funds spent to bring it into orbit. So at worst it would be a lost opportunity, but not "money down the drain. She suspected her mom was a little naive about political things.

It was quite a load by the time she gathered up her box of laser heads, a few capes and her pad and scanner to go to Heather's. It seemed like she had something to carry now every time she went out.

* * *

She followed Heather's directions to E Ring - Deck 3 – Door Seventeen. April thought she had been on every corridor in the station, but if she had been up here she could not remember when. She positively had never been in Heather's home before. She didn't know if she hadn't been asked because it was a privacy thing, or if Heather was embarrassed about it. E Level was the innermost residence ring, only about a half G. It was definitely not the high rent district. It was even less desirable than the Singh home. A little roughness was expected, but the corridor turned out to be hard floor instead of carpet. Well not hard, more like rubber mats. There was a mix of strong odors in the air and not all of them were pleasant. There were still sound deadener panels on the walls but no decoration and it was noisy when the electric freight carts went by.

By the time she got to their door three had gone by, the last with a driver actually towing a trailer, with cartons stacked on it under elastic netting. This appeared to be more an industrial area than residential. She resolved no matter how rough it was, she would show not outward sign of disapproval.

The door looked pretty industrial also, double-wide opening down the middle. It was painted black metal with a flat screen at eye level. On it three options were presented. To the left of each line of text was a rectangular button icon which said PUSH. The first said, "Push - and announce yourself." The second said, "Push - for Grand Entry." The third said, "Push - Constables, Collectors and Officials."

What the heck.
April thought and punched the icon for "Grand Entry" bracing herself for a siren, or a really load buzzer.

The screen dropped the menu and a scene appeared of a stone hallway with men on each side, in some sort of archaic uniform. There was a man standing with his back to her, so his head and shoulders filled most of the screen. There was the murmur of a crowd from beyond him. He seemed to become aware of April and turned to look in her eyes. How the program did it she didn't know. It was pretty slick. The image seemed to actually stare right in her eyes.

The face was an older dignified gentleman and his white hair was elaborately curled and shaped with ribbons on the back gathered part. She didn't recognize it as a wig. His long coat was even more elaborate and threaded with more embroidery and gold buttons than the men who lined along the wall. He inquired of her, "May I have the pleasure of announcing you, my Lady?" Addressing her correctly meant the door had to have facial recognition software, which could determine her gender. That was difficult to do at her age. It was the sort of AI screening program she found really irritating when calling someone's pad. But it was sort of amusing here.

"Yes, please announce April Lewis," she requested.

The figure turned and walked to doorway behind and made a motion with his left hand. The three uniformed figures on each side whipped up a huge long straight horn and blew a short but alarming flourish. One started and after a few notes each in turn would start up until they were all blowing the same urgent fanfare.

It sounded a lot like something April had heard before a horse race onetime on vid. The fellow had a huge staff with ornamentation in his right hand. He raised and cracked on the stone floor twice. It was like a gunshot, with an echo from the huge room beyond him. The rumble of sound from beyond him immediately dropped off.

"Gentle people, it is my pleasure to present the Honorable April Lewis." He turned and cleared the way to the door and stood in a shallow bow for her.

Heather yanked the door open with a smile on her face.

"Mom always likes it when someone picks the Grand Entry. Come on in."

The entry was similar to hers at home, but bigger. It had a cabinet which had to be for pressure suits and it undoubtedly it was an airlock also. There was the same covered control panel in the wall. However it was L shaped instead of straight through. When you looked straight in, the end wall was a clear panel covering a sculptured glass slab. The light was deliberately dim on this side to make the panel backlit. The glass had various textures of frost and sandblast and areas which seemed hand worked in parallel or cross hashed scratches from diamond tools. The subject was a life size Great Blue Heron, standing beside reeds in shallow water.

The more she looked the more detail came out to her eye. A dragonfly hovered over the reeds and a frog at their roots. In the opposite corner from the reeds a Willow branch dipped toward the bird. The details extended under the surface of the water as well. The carving was not painted in, but it had a subtle hint of color. When she looked closely she could see there were fine lines of color along the edge of the recessed area, which seemed to play off the contours behind them. Heather stood quietly letting her thoroughly inspect it, without rushing her. It would take hours to absorb it all.

"Mom does nice work doesn't she?" Heather asked.

"I have never seen anything this stunning, unless it was in a museum or an art institute. It's just beautiful."

"She's working on another panel right now. Come on and let her show you."

The space they stepped into was almost as big as the cubic the Lewis family occupied. The main room had an open center length of about 20 meters. After they had partitioned off an apartment for her grandpa, the Lewis cubic didn't have any open space left as big. It was not only low G, but also the ceiling was low all along one side, being in the inner surface of the torus shape of the station segment.

The space was very thoughtfully used. April could see through an open door where the low ceiling area was used for beds and there was a work bench and com console in the low space where she could see Jeff working with his back to them. Further down there was even an area where she could see plants and flowers growing behind a sheet of plastic film, where the space was only waist high. There were lots of other plants scattered about the room.

 They probably ran a surplus on their air bill with all the greenery. Compared to her family's apartment it was really cluttered, but it worked for them. The noise and harsh smells in the hallway didn't intrude at all. There was a rich smell of slow cooking and there was a low background noise of soft jazz, with an occasional riff of a solo horn which drew your attention back when you started to forget it was there. April found the whole place very comfortable and domestic, not industrial as she had feared.

Heather's mom was working at a rolling table with a large flat screen and a professional video camera on a powered tripod.  There was large Oriental rug beyond her with no furniture, but a background screen with a fruited olive branch hanging down printed on it. April had never seen such an impressive, real, Oriental rug. It was about four by six meters. She didn't notice Barak, Heather's little brother sitting at his mom's feet, until he turned his head to look over his shoulder and smiled at her.

"OK Barak. On the mark again, please." She looked over at April and smiled. "I'm Sylvia, April. One more shot here and I think we'll have it wrapped and we can talk."

Barak went out on the rug and put his right foot forward on a piece of tape on the floor.

"Now go down and go through a practice motion to get the feel. Then we'll want you to actually leave the floor." Sylvia commanded.  You want the olive. You are happy. Maybe even a little goofy and your eyes are pointing past your hand as you reach. When the background is added in your eyes will be on the olive, like it is above you not behind on the screen. Try it."