Authors: Mackey Chandler
"Remarkable. So why are you here? I doubt it's simply more protection." The receptionist came in with their coffee.
"First, to take our man Dr. Singh back home. I'm told you know about his marriage to the Tibetan lady Dr. Nam-Kah and you will approve of her leaving with him. His family has been the target of black USNA operations on our station and we doubt either one of them could walk onto a regular commercial flight back to M3."
"I didn't think I needed to ask help with it. But since I got here I see things are unsettled, so I'll ask you if you'd make sure the Chinese don't strong arm her, when we try to board her on our shuttle in the morning. We will have several people to walk her down and the doctors and I will board, but if you'd have several officers in a show of force we'd appreciate it."
"If the little prig who runs the Chinese embassy here argued with my receptionist, once she told him to clear the hatch for boarding, I would make him regret it for a very long time indeed. But I'll grant the favor easily. I'll even walk you down myself. If it irks the Chinese good. And what else?"
"We're worried on M3 about what is going to happen with the Rock. You're familiar with the case in the courts and the fact a lot of people have an investment in it?"
"Certainly, but I don't know any more than what I have seen on the news. The court still hasn't ruled on the matter and the Rock is still way out from the final orbit."
"I was hoping you'd know more, but if not be aware of what little I can tell you. It could be a hazard for your people too, if they are on M3, or in transit and get involved. My uncle says the family intelligence sources say the fix is in and the court will rule against the investors. But they also say they'll lock down M3 and seize the Rock even before the court decision"
"Let me make a call." Jan keyed a few lines and asked a local technician for some help. Eventually he made a connection without video and cupped a headset to one ear, asking - "Brad? This is Jan. I have a man sitting here, predicting the USNA is going to lock down their people in M3 and grab the Rock project early when it finishes coming into orbit. Is he out of his flaming mind, or is he brilliant?"
Eddie couldn't hear the other side of the conversation.
"I can't hire him. He already works for the frigging USNA and the Mafia and is too busy to take on a hobby. Besides he's so easy to read they'd know he turned in a week. He almost peed his pants when I assumed he was here to shoot my silly butt. So give me the raw data on why you agreed so quickly..."
"Of course I'm not going to leak it to him! I'm trading it for his intelligence..."
"Not the USNA you twit. They couldn't find a dead cat in a gunny sack after it was five days ripe. This is the straight stuff from the Mob. They know what the hell they are about I can tell you..."
"I didn't call my own country's spooks, because they all think I owe them too many favors. Whereas I've given you so many golden goodies you should be thanking me for calling again. It damned well does not count as doubling him, because he may work for you, but he got the information off his other side. It wasn't even one of your other so called agencies..."
"I love you too and I'll get back to you on this and tell you another small gem. We may have a minor diplomatic incident here, because I'm going to escort this fellow Singh and his new bride onto this fellows shuttle in a few hours. If Lee, who has been irritating me, gets in my face I may shove him out the bloody airlock without his knickers on, much less a p-suit and see if that doesn't rip his serene inscrutability..."
"Yes, I know I'm a damned barbarian. I take great joy in it. Next time I'm down we'll do the barbie up right. I haven't had any decent ribs since the last visit..."
It was a very interesting conversation to hear one side of, all in a rush.
"Charming fellow," Jan allowed, putting the headset down. "He works for a little office in the NSA, which seems to specialize in spying on the CIA. Does the best ribs and skirt steak on the grill of anyone you've ever met. Sends me satellite photos of nude beaches in the clear, to embarrass my secretary for whom he has an unrequited passion. Just amazing the resolution you fellows get."
"But I imagine that doesn't interest you right now. He confirms there are all sorts of unusually heavy launch preparations and a couple small special force units which have space training are sequestered. They also have some signs the Chinese are working on a hurry-up launch too. What's even more damning, is there is some activity selling Mitsubishi and related space stock puts, for the right time window. So without even looking any further I'm afraid you're right. He suggested you might consider sending your key people on to Luna, so they can't be seized on M3. It might frost their cookies nicely if they want to capture them."
Eddie's head was still spinning at the idea of the NSA spying on the CIA. But the last statement he had to protest. "But, doesn't he work for the USNA? So why would he suggest we do something what would keep the Singhs out of their hands?"
"Your uncle lives where?"
"Uh, near Chicago."
"So does it mean he will serve the interests of Chicago or the USNA because he lives and works there? Believe me, the interests of the NSA and the CIA and the TLA no more coincide with each other than with the Mafia. They all have their own agenda and compete for the same resources. Any one of them might ally with the Mob, or the Devil himself, against one of the others, if their interests happened to overlapped. They serve the administration as long as it protects their existence and the money keeps coming. If not they can help bring them down."
"What's the TLA?"
"If you don't know, you don't need to know." he said, testily.
"Thank you so much," he said, standing, stunned and a bit overloaded by the bizarre conversation. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"And it was very pleasant meeting you," Jan assured him. "Feel free to call me up now that we know each other. After all, this is what keeps the whole bloody system from breaking down totally, networking."
* * *
Somewhere out over the Pacific, Easy and April came to the part of their flight profile which was critical. They were gambling on the fact the flight profiles were checked by computer. As long as they gave satisfactory solutions for arrival where you said you were going, they should not be examined in detail by a human. They hoped they were not programmed to report if one deviated very far from standard. Their departure burn had been well under what was needed and now they were going to do a short burn to make it up. They'd do it however with the plasma engines and they hoped being well away from the station no one would record their little burp.
The data from the test fire would be recorded and returned to Dave to see if they needed any work, to make it match the results NASA had gotten when they designed the drive decades ago. Dave had several ideas to improve it, because of advances in metallurgy since the design was finalized, but they vetoed it for now, because they needed a tested design. Coming up on the time, Easy asked April, "How much acceleration have you ever pulled?"
"Whatever they pull in a shuttle. I've been down to Earth twice now. About a year ago and then almost five years ago and I don't remember the ride very clearly. Something under four G I'm sure."
"We'll peak at eight, but it's going to be so short you won't have time to have trouble breathing or anything. Just make sure your arms are in the grooves and don't decide to scratch your nose or anything. At eight G, if you hang your arm out beside your couch I can guarantee it will be broken and probably dislocated at the same time. Not something we want to deal with. Coming up on two minutes. Let's put it on the screen to count down and read out the Gs."
When the countdown hit zero on the screen, it started counting back up and had a G meter join it on the right of the screen. It ramped up pretty fast. They picked up about a half G every second. It didn't feel all that heavy until about five and then it felt like something big had landed on top of her. At six point something her vision got blurry enough her she didn't see the seven replace the six. She just saw the blur blink. She felt the vertebrae in her back snapping, like when a masseuse stretches and adjusts them and her tongue wanted to slid back in her mouth. It only stayed at eight G for a half second before it cut off sharply, but the compressed cushions under her made her feel like she was flung forwards against her restraints, when they expanded back to normal.
"Well I can see why your grandpa said he was too old for this sort of thing," Easy told her. "I feel like I jumped, had my chute fail and landed flat on my back."
* * *
In the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean, near the international date line, in a dimly lit room on the atoll Kwajalein, a radar technician explained why he had called his watch commander. "Bullshit! some kind of computer glitch," the officer said when he described the numbers he'd seen turn red and build up beside the blip on his scope. "Play the recording back and let me see it."
* * *
"ISSII local, this is
Happy Lewis
at 10 kilometers out, for dock on local two. We'd like cargo access and a connect to top our tanks off. We expect to board passengers and undetermined freight, on a turn around. We don't anticipate coming off dock, or off loading, so we don't need customs or emigration," Easy informed them. The local net on screen four, showed no unusual news or alerts. The seconds ticked over in lockstep with their home clock on their navigation screen.
"You are clear on hatch five. It's the yellow stripe on the boom."
This was the part Easy never liked, because it was forbidden to match airlock to port by hand. He'd get fined if he got caught doing it. It had been done manually for a long time and the steady record of dings and damage and outright wrecks, said it was something to leave to the machines, or necessity in a real emergency. It wasn't he didn't trust his ship, but you had to trust the
station's
machines to give you feedback and actuate the grapples. He got a sweet kiss of contact because the
Happy Lewis
had all new thrusters tuned just so and the vessel was too light to whip the boom around, from the grapples pulling her in a few centimeters to seal to the port.
The board showed all green, for the door seal and he could see the fuel service man riding a rail seat down the outside of the boom already, to do their fill up. They had nonstandard connector locations, after their radical rebuild, so he had to clip the quick disconnects on the fuel nipples near the hatch by hand. Easy watched, to make sure he attached the short safety cables to the release lever and took up the slack.
If he undocked without removing the hoses, it should pull the release lever and unhook the hose from the ship, without ripping the hoses out of the station, or breaking the mast off. The fuel fellow didn't bother to call on his radio. He just floated over to the forward ports and took a card reader out of his leg pocket. The light was just right and they could see him faintly through the face plate, chewing gum slowly and smiling. Easy held a credit card up against the port and he scanned it through the glass. The fellow arced back to the boom on his tether Tarzan style, with the ease of long experience and rode away in his chair.
"When you can go back, open just the outer door on the coffin lock." He ordered April. We'll open both sides of the coffin if they are boarding with no trouble. How about fixing a new pot of coffee, number two?"
"Is this one of those orders politely framed as a question Easy?"
"It's always the safest thing to assume April."
April went back and took her sword along. There was a rib on either side of the hatch, padded to protect people and cargo coming through from bumps and she fastened the saya to the one on the back side of the hatch with a couple hefty cable ties, one tight through the kurikata so the blade could be drawn. She wanted it handy in what she considered hostile territory. Then she opened the outer door of the coffin lock
* * *
Eddie was sitting waiting with John, anxious to get aboard the shuttle and off ISSII, safely past the Chinese or North Americans or whatever unknowns were hunting his charges. He had skipped lunch because he didn't want to be carrying a meal to scramble aboard a scooter in zero G and he had nothing packed to carry.
The Agapitos had said goodbye and left the table to the two of them. He had his pad and wallet and gun. If he got a chance he'd transfer the gun to an outside pocket when he got a suit, because the sticky stuff on the holster might not be vacuum rated. He'd been told they'd all suit up on boarding.. The Agapitos could ship his small carry-on, or bring it if they came to M3. John got a call on his pad and he nodded it was time to go.
They took the same route to the plaza as they had to see Jan and when they arrived the party with the Drs. Singh walked into the plaza at the same time. Jan was waiting in front of his office entry, with four guards armed with some sort of light machine pistol.
There was a Chinese officer in uniform sitting at the café Justin and John had enjoyed. He spoke with agitation into a pad on his table, making no effort to cover up the fact he was reporting in with their movements.
Jan said a word to his men and two came across the plaza weapons held just barely off the officer and yanked him over to a heavy railing which defined the edge of the serving area. They double hand cuffed him on the sturdy tube, with his hands wide enough apart he could not bring them together and patted him down briefly before trotting back, ignoring his complaints.
They formed up on the three passengers much like his earlier walk. Each inside a square, but staggered apart down the corridor.
When they got to the lift, to take them in spin to the crossover bearing and out of rotation, there was a Chinese officer standing in front of the elevator, with a soldier on each side. He didn't seem bothered he was so outnumbered, but his two men didn't look happy at all.
Jan marched right up within arm's length of the head Chinese on the left and Justine did the same on the right.