“Like you, I have plenty to keep me busy,” Heather said. Frymeta took that for a dismissal, and got up to leave. She did appear satisfied, not unhappy.
Heather appreciated she didn’t expect an immediate answer. There was a lot there to think about. She’d need her partners’ input and maybe from some others.
* * *
“The farmer, O’Neil, is supposed to be at the Fall Festival,” Vic said. “He was there last year but not in the spring. Mr. Mast informed me he was sick and didn’t want to travel. He does well enough off his store on his front porch he doesn’t have to set up at the festival.
“We have to pick up our salt and arrange for Mast to store the most part of it there. I’m hoping we can arrange for him to inquire of his pilot friend and then pass us a message at the end of the news on the radio net about what he was able to arrange.”
“I’ve always thought those sounded silly at the end of the broadcast,” Eileen said, “like a cheesy spy novel. “I certainly never thought we’d be using them. How can you make sure you can say everything you need to?”
“I’ll give O’Neil a long sheet with alternate codes. We can’t hear him directly here but he can give them to the broadcaster to relay. You can look at it,” he invited Eileen, “and add what you think is necessary. I have the key to our message being ‘Grandma says’. If we don’t need to go and the doc will send a prescription without seeing you he’ll say, ‘Grandma will have a package for you. If it is totally safe for both of us to go, and what date, he’ll say Grandma is baking x number of pies. ‘Grandma is baking a cake’ is for if it is safe just for you to go alone, and ‘the cake fell in the oven’ for if there are legal problems with getting you to see the doctor. If there might be problems with your status as a minor he’ll say ‘grandma was short on sugar’. If there is no problem with my bank being in operation he’ll say ‘we’ll have biscuits too’. If he says nothing they are closed.
“It’s going to be awfully close to the snow starting,” Eileen said. “Maybe you should add ‘Grandma may take roomers’ if he isn’t sure we can get a return flight before the snow to get home safely. Also, I’m not happy with this being on a physical list. We still have robbers and such. When you talk to him tell him that if he names Grandma, like Grandma Johnson it means the whole thing is off for some reason, and don’t write that down. How much does it cost to have these messages tacked on?”
“It’s like everything else now,” Vic said, “barter for what ya got. Mr. Mast will inquire what the radio guy needs and I’ll fulfill something from the list. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
Eileen’s face changed as she had a sudden thought.
“We’re wealthy, aren’t we? I mean, even without the panned gold that’s too dangerous to use right now.”
“Isn’t that why you married me?” Vic asked, feigning puzzlement.
Eileen suggested another reason.
“As if... You didn’t have any way to know that,” Vic insisted.
* * *
“I can’t risk one of my fusion generators in this kind of an application,” Jeff insisted. “It seems like a wonderful match, but by its nature, it would be subject to capture. We already have lost one ship to insider theft that triggered the self destruct mechanism. I suppose you know I bombarded another ship to deny it to the Chinese who stole it, rather than let them reverse engineer it.”
Otis Dugan made a snort through his nose like a startled horse. “Who doesn’t know that story?” he asked rhetorically. “No way to cover up a crater you can see from orbit. Thanks for talking to me. I’ll just have to wait until some other tech matures and I can get a power source that is light enough and has sufficient power density. I was pretty sure from what is known about your ships your tech could do that, but I understand your security concerns.”
Otis made a move to pick up the samples he’d put on the table to show Jeff.
“Wait a moment before you give up entirely,” Jeff said, making a forestalling gesture. “I can’t risk a fusion generator, but we have an energy storage device that should suffice for your application. We already put them at risk on unmanned satellites and other applications where we won’t risk the generators to capture. They are much smaller, lighter, and easier to protect against theft. But you can’t just refuel them to keep them operating and they can only be recharged so quickly with any safety. I’m guessing you might run something like this suit a week on a small one, but not months. This is a very attractive package. I’d like to hear more about it.”
“It’s nothing startlingly new,” Otis said. “We have all sorts of armor and powered suits. Some just let a foot soldier carry more, the sort of a rig he backs into and carries the load of a pack. They attach at the hip and foot and can be ditched with one command almost instantly if they bust or run out of juice. At the other end of the spectrum, you have hard shell space armor that is totally enclosed and rigid, but it is a bear to get out of if it is powered down. If it is damaged and powered down, figure you are screwed if you aren’t in the repair shop.
“There have been so many improvements in materials, and short-run fabricating has gotten so much cheaper, we think we can economically build a combat suit of armor that can stop just about all small arms and augment a person’s strength and endurance.”
“This material is what my lady April wore down to Earth a few years ago,” Jeff said, picking it up and feeling it. “Back then it was in the prototype stage and they weren’t selling it even to other spacers.”
“But they let you buy a made-up garment, not a fabric sample?” Otis asked, surprised.
“Yes, a hooded jacket that could be pulled down into a tunic almost to the knees. They were very concerned that it not be captured back then, but it was a tech for tech trade, not a purchase. Do you have the genetic enhancements to increase strength?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, and I don’t know anybody working security who hasn’t bought that. That’s a factor too, because we’re strong enough now to carry the suit if it breaks down or loses power. The armor function still works without power and the semi-rigid backing material spreads the blunt force better than just the fabric layer. It isn’t difficult now to create a joint that can disengage so it doesn’t drag or lock up and hinder you if powered down, so it’s just the dead weight, which is negligible.”
“I’d rather hear a hard number than ‘negligible’,” Jeff said.
“Sixteen kilograms for the suit, plus whatever your power unit adds, plus another four kilograms for the helmet and gear in it,” Otis said.
“That seems like a lot to carry on your head,” Jeff said. “I’m worried about whip-lash and fatigue with that much mass carried on your neck.”
“It’s supported by a brace from the suit, that’s about a third of the four-kilo weight,” Otis said. “If you do go into a powered down mode then it is a hazard, but not having the use of your suit in an environment where you need it is a hazard all by itself. If you need extended time in vacuum it’s configured totally differently you’ll add a few kilos for a rebreather. If you are in a hazardous atmosphere or deep underwater this suit isn’t going to hack it. You’ll need a specialized suit we haven’t even tried to design yet, with much better seals and external pressure capabilities.”
“The thing about my power source is if it got a direct hit from a big enough weapon it could discharge its remaining power all at once,” Jeff said. “Or if it was captured I’ve made sure it will self destruct when forced open. It is much smaller and simpler than my fusion power generator and I have high confidence it won’t be cracked. But you don’t want to be within a kilometer if it is triggered.”
“What would it take, an anti-tank weapon?” Otis asked. “If you get hit with that you’ll be dead anyway and hardly care if your suit self-destructs.”
Jeff smiled. “Yes, but what if it hits the guy next to you?”
“Those are the kinds of trade-offs and calculated risks you take in combat,” Otis said. “In a decade o
r two they will probably have enough data to know how good a trade it was, and by that time it will all be obsolete and not matter anymore.”
Jeff nodded. “You are dispassionate about risk assessment. That’s a rare quality.”
Otis shrugged. “In arms, if you just keep doing what has always worked you’re going to be the guy who demonstrates it doesn’t work anymore. Military history is littered with people who were prepared to fight the previous war all over again.”
“How many of these units do you think you will need to be made?” Jeff asked.
“Mackay’s outfit would take eight of them and I need six minimum. The way prototyping is done now you need to do three before the price comes down a little. Fourteen units will get a little better price, but it’s a sharp curve. Twenty-five units will really see the cost curve drop hard. I was hoping you might see a need to order a few yourself,” Otis admitted.
“That’s a possibility. I need to talk to my people, to Heather in particular. She may want some for Central Security. Will they have to be custom fitted?” Jeff asked.
“No, they will be adjustable in a wide range. Our cad design was based on the suit fitting Gunny with a five percent margin.”
“That should fit the ninety-ninth percentile of body sizes,” Jeff said, laughing, “or a male Mountain Gorilla.”
Jeff’s pad interrupted him with a repeated ding. He had it set off to all but the highest priorities. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and apologized to Otis. “I have to take this, I’m sorry. It’s set for only a half dozen people to be able to call me.”
April was glaring out of the screen at him angry, which was unusual and upsetting. The wall behind her told Jeff she was still on the Moon.
“The North Americans have Irwin,” she said right away. “His hyper out of Havana had mechanical trouble and had to shut down and glide back to Miami. He’s on the ground there now and I’m trying to find out what is going on.”
“I see you are upset,” Jeff said gently, “but it may be a bit premature. The North Americans will probably just put them back on a conventional jet, return them to Havana and he’ll just catch a later hypersonic to Hawaii.”
“He changed his schedule,” April said. “He was headed to Belgium.”
“OK, that makes more sense,” Jeff said. “If he was headed back to Hawaii he’d have been pointed at Central America because they jog south to avoid overflying Mexico. They’d have probably ended up in Honduras unless there is somewhere that could handle them on the Yucatan, which would be the same problem basically. I’m just glad he’s down. There haven’t been many hypersonics actually crash. At that speed, if something goes bad they break up from the aerodynamic forces and by the time they reach the ground they are in such small pieces they look like a cloud of chaff on radar.”
“There’s that,” April admitted. “I asked Chen to alert his contacts we’d love some information if it isn’t forthcoming in the news channels. The straight stuff if the public feed is the usual empty blather. I don’t trust them,” she snarled.
“We still have every expectation of free passage. We’ve been constant in that,” Jeff said. “Perhaps the new coalition government will be friendlier since they don’t have to posture for each other. If the current officeholders have flip-flopped to the off setting they do so at their own considerable peril. I’ve made war on China, and you slapped North America’s hands for shooting at me. If that was not sufficiently instructive you are welcome to tutor them on how to treat Home citizens. I’d specifically ask Chen to inquire of Jan. He won’t take payment, but sometimes informing us, leaking really, serves his purposes. You have the weapon keys and I totally support you. I just ask you to give them a chance to show some sense before you slap them again, and don’t yell or make a fuss about it. It lacks dignity. Just state your case calmly as you did before.”
Otis looked worried. The fact Jeff said it with no heat at all worried him more than the anger he heard in April’s voice. He wasn’t the first to wonder if Jeff was ‘all right’.
“Don’t worry,” he heard April say,” I just let loose and show my feeling talking to you, but I’ll let them make it clear they are being jackasses before I say a word, and when I do, I will be the Frosty Ice Queen,” she promised.
“That’s good,” Jeff said, “just channel Heather handing down high justice at her weekly court. The softer she speaks the worse the condemned realize they have stepped in it. I expect then that you will be joining me here. We might even need to go in past L1 if we need to get the command lag time down short enough. Five seconds is forever managing a space battle. I’ll see you in a couple of days then. Love you.”
“In just a few hours, if things move too fast, but yeah, soon. Love you too.”
Jeff looked up from the disconnected conversation. “Thank you for your patience. I wish we had these suits in service and everybody trained on them. If they imprisoned Irwin Hall it would be much easier to go in and take him back with ten or twelve armored up security than any lever we have on them right now.”
“That would be a scary operation,” Otis said. “I’m pretty sure we could do it, but it wouldn’t be a clean surgical extraction. I’m not even sure enough people would sign on for it. You’d have to pretty much peel their jail open and shoot anybody who got in your way. You might do more damage and casualties leaving than going in if they got reinforcements in place behind you fast enough. I can see where we might have to lay down suppressive fire for kilometers around, in a dense urban area, just to get back out. It’s basically a hostage situation and there’s always the chance they’d kill Irwin before they’d let him go, or it can happen easily enough by chance in the fighting. I’d advise against it if there’s any other way.”
“You could take out half of Miami and it would still be a moderate action compared to what April would do if they get really stubborn about releasing Irwin. I really do hope we don’t have to see that,” Jeff said.
Otis nodded. Normally he’d be pitching a sale of services to somebody who might need security work, even if it bordered on mercenary action, but he really didn’t want to drop into the heart of a major North American city and extract a prisoner. Not even wearing this new armor and with the kind of resources that Jeff had to back him up.
Jeff looked thoughtful. “Do you intend any licensing restrictions? Can I sell extra units as used or surplus and know you will service them or provide CAM files to do so?”
“I’m not even sure this will be an actual business line for us,” Otis said. “We just want the equipment for our own use and nobody is making it.”
“It may start a small market but I think you are underestimating the potential,” Jeff said. “I want them too, so I will send you files for the power storage unit interface within the hour. You can add that data to the mounting location to plan the correct power management interface. I’ll commit to fifteen units. If Heather doesn’t want them I’ll find some way to make them pay for themselves. I’ll rent the damn things out by the hour if I have to.”
Otis looked shocked at that idea, but agreed. “They’ll be in fabrication next shift.”
* * *
O’Neil, the farmer with a sundries store on his porch, was at the fall festival as Vic and Eileen hoped. They made arrangements so easily it worried Victor that he might have forgotten something. O’Neil insisted their codes seemed to cover everything that might reasonably happen and didn’t want any upfront payment. He figured Vic could take care of that with the pilot on the Nevada end. Whatever their private arrangements for fee sharing Vic didn’t care or feel it his place to ask.
O’Neil seemed to be taking more custom orders than actually selling goods he’d brought. He had over the counter medications, playing cards, toothbrushes, tiny sewing kits that didn’t impress Vic much, and some impractical luxury goods that Vic and Eileen were amazed to see sell very well. Really, who needed lipstick or kitchen sponges? On the other hand, they bought vitamin C pills and a box of the larg
er size Band-Aids themselves. O’Neil was the only seller they saw who was happy to take USNA dollars instead of barter. Though between price increases in the outside world and the added costs for flying things in, the dollar prices seemed ruinous.
The festival was bigger than the year before. Vic had .22 cartridges in payment for the salt he’d ordered in the spring. Those were given over to Mr. Mast to broker for them. He’d be storing most of the salt and Vic intended to limit his load to carry home to twenty kilograms, and that much only because he had a garden wagon to carry it.
The Burks had arrived late in the day the previous year and then been ambushed on the way home. That had gone disastrously bad for the ambushers, but they’d taken damage to their wagon tires and had to cut and consolidate it to a two-wheel cart. They must have run later getting back home than arriving. Still, they seemed so resourceful Vic expected them to make some sort of transport to return and deliver his order.
Vic sold some more nails and glass jars they dug up and cleaned from the old trash dump with years of accumulation at the ranch. It was a dry enough climate that about one in three old mayonnaise or jam jars had a usable lid once cleaned up, but they kept the regular canning jars for themselves. Apparently- when the previous generation at the farm stopped canning they just discarded the jars in the trash as they emptied them. They saw some Mason jars for sale at the festival but people wanted far more than they’d pay. Eileen was starting to appreciate they had so much old stuff at Vic’s ranch that they were well to do. They had both a trash gully to mine and years of junk never cleared away from the attic and storage rooms.
They bought a roast chicken from the same fellow who sold them before and split it. That was a real treat, and the smoky flavor was wonderful. Vic paid double to get one seasoned with a dry rub. The spice had to be from outside the zone, so it was expensive.
All in Good Time Page 5