Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  In the meantime, he'd keep pressing for them to stick to the engineering side of things and let him manage the business aspects. That would be best all around. The problem was making the man believe it. He hoped to do that soon. A family fight over that kind of money would get ugly. Not that it would come to that. A peaceful resolution would be best at this point.

  So, what could he do, who could he call to keep them busy up there?

  He did a quick analysis. Travel time, and say a day there, and another day. It might be enough. No need for false delays, just a good tour with lots of detail.

  Bryan had to be convinced that Joe was the right person for Govannon, as he was the right person for Earth. Caron could do as she wished. He'd run things and ease her into his style of management. Or else he'd send her home.

  It was very aggravating. What he was doing was all legal, perfectly moral, but his brother would take it the wrong way. He knew mining. He didn't understand economics. The resort was a small moneymaker, but it was also a massive political ally, with all the connected playboys coming out. As long as they had their fleshpots, Govannon would remain open, no matter how many greenies complained. Bryan was just too straight laced to accept booze and hookers as business tools.

  Joe sighed. He'd keep applying pressure until they had a proper division of labor.

  The boat could actually drive around the star's gravity well. Big engines and tanks, hot exhaust and no concerns about money. Eventually, all craft would have that capability.

  Jason was concerned about external control, though, so he had all the interlocks pulled and labeled. If need be, anyone could reinsert them in seconds. Until then, he was the only person who had control over the ship. He had a Ripple Creek-provided sealed astrogation unit to doublecheck against the ship's. He wasn't going to allow the chance of any accidents.

  Even given that kind of power, it was a week of nothing to get a few hours on site at each of several spots in the immediate system only.

  The boat was comfortable enough, though. He and Elke each had a small cabin with bunk, stowage and a standard micro G shower stall, with upgraded flow and recycling. Caron had the Owner's Stateroom, which was a little bigger. The galley had pre-packed food that just needed heated, all sealed and easily inspected by Elke. Cady's team had loaded that for them.

  It took two days to examine two orbital stations, even though they were in low orbits, because maneuvering took time. There was little enough to see, but the staff were delighted with Caron and seemed genuinely pleased she took notice of them. Typical PR stuff, but worthwhile. After that, it was two more days to the gem of the system.

  Govannon's L1 point contained the smelters for all the space mining. Or perhaps "harvesting" was a better word. Planetoids were slung in from outsystem, or out from scorching orbits near the star, with either nuclear charges or slow ion rockets, queued up and fed in front of massive mirrors. There they were melted and stratified, and then careful localized heating blew off most of the slag. The resulting spheres of high grade ore were loaded onto a gravity whip—a ten thousand kilometer long, rotating cable with a counterbalance that flung them toward the Jump Point. Rudimentary engines were attached en route by a crew in a bus-sized module, who saw them through to Sol, then returned once ferry crews took over. It wasn't as fast as a direct-driven ship, but fast enough for the mass of ore being shipped.

  "That's more efficient," Elke said. "Though I estimate only five percent as much metal exists out here."

  "Actually about six point three, relatively high, but yes," Caron said. "When it's gone, it's gone, but it's easy to get to, just time consuming."

  "Obviously, this is not a low paying enterprise."

  "No, everyone here is a trained, professional deep space operator cross trained for at least two jobs. Most have metallurgical training, materials science, smelting or mechanical engineering. Some process control experts, and of course some optical scientists for the mirrors."

  Jason said, "I have the personnel manifest here, with credentials."

  "They're a much lower threat to me," Caron said.

  "I disagree. They're highly intelligent, motivated, used to problem solving, willing to work hard in dangerous environments for a commensurate pay scale. They're the ones I trust least. They can actually conceptually grasp how much money you have."

  "Oh, damn you," Caron snapped.

  "One of the miners might take a swing or a shot at you. That's easy to anticipate, deal with, respond to. An interested scientist might tinker with your atmosphere, ship, food, and might do so from a distance via proxy and remote operation. Knowledge is power, and threat."

  "I understand, but dammit, does everyone have to be under a cloud of suspicion? Don't answer, I know." She sighed and shook her head.

  "That threat is reduced by the fact that they won't encounter you much. Opportunisti attacks are unlikely. But this trip was at least somewhat promoted."

  "Sort of. My uncle is a penny pincher and obsessive. He wants to make sure we keep eyes on all the activities against potential theft, embezzlement or fraud. But, it's also a good idea for us to know how things work first hand. We've been mostly isolated. We have staff we trust, but the boss does have to visit the mine now and then."

  "Yeah, I don't have a moral problem being here, and protecting you is what we were hired for, so we'll do it."

  Elke said, "I appreciate being along. Seeing large power applications is fascinating."

  She'd been staring out the port and on screen for most of the approach, though she kept her professional radar alert for anything that might affect Caron. Of course, anything that affected her at this point would almost certainly affect all three of them. Other than having emergency oxygen on shoulder mounts, though, there wasn't much else to do that hadn't already been done.

  Jason took another look himself. The massive arcs of the mirrors were painfully bright, and a boiling nimbus of white-hot ore floated between them, held in place by light pressure and venting gas as the ore melt sat in equilibrium. A five hundred meter, four hundred million tonne sphere of molten, half-smelted metal was enough to be a weapon of itself.

  Alex made use of the time Caron was gone. It wasn't down time, per se. It was time to do another assessment of the facility and threats.

  Cady came down, still in her traditional suit, with summaries and data that were easy to read.

  "There's a low level of RF activity that might be surveillance. Of course, that could also be industrial espionage, which isn't really our thing, though of course I'll report it if I confirm, but I don't want to mention it early in case I scare someone into being more cautious."

  "Correct," Alex agreed. "Threats first, business second. That's understood by all parties."

  "Good. Now, my other concern is predictability, and that the private areas do lend themselves to directional mines."

  "Elke checks that whenever she can."

  "So does Marlin, my bomb tech. It's still a concern."

  "Absolutely. And we have a certain amount of unavoidable predictability."

  "Yes, which is why I've suggested another garage exit. It will be exit only, which reduces the potential exploitation of it the other way."

  "Fair enough. I can get behind that."

  Cady stretched back, sat forward again, and pulled another screen.

  "So let's talk about who the threats are."

  "Well, we have seven official strata of personnel here—castes, if you will—from menial workers and unskilled miners up to tourists, the family and us."

  "Yes, but I don't see any particular level as significant. The miners have sheer numbers. The tourists have money. We have access. The only family member with an outside interest is the mother. We have her watched. The uncle, father and daughter are all right here. Though Joe's Ex Ek security are a bit of bother to me. They're not us."

  "Hell, Jace, I don't trust even us." He grinned at the irony. "And they don't get near the rest of us. From a dispassionate point of view,
no big deal if the uncle goes down. He doesn't affect Caron's stock or inheritance, and he's a meddling twit. Though losing him would mean her father would be more of a target, or her. So I hope they're good enough to keep him safe."

  "I agree, but we still have to keep a sidebar on him, and interact with his personals."

  "How are they? I've barely encountered them in passing."

  "They'll do a professional job of stopping bullets, and they're alert and attentive for tangible threats. I can't offer more observations than that. Their reputation is of course decent, though not in our league."

  "We might be the best."

  "Our paychecks say so. It's just one thing to keep in mind."

  "So what about threat levels here and on Earth?"

  "Nothing on Earth. I wondered about someone wanting to kidnap the mother, but no one seems to care much for her, so if they do, it's not an immediate threat to anyone we have contracts on. I've suggested she be given a second level of protection. That one retainer she has isn't much of anything but a lackey."

  "I noticed that."

  "But there's been nothing on Earth and nothing here."

  "And I still maintain that all the activity on Earth was to drive us here."

  "I agree. There are no indications of anything, though."

  "So, our job is to assume a threat, and assume it's going to be very well planned and high tech. Then we hope we're wrong."

  "Atmosphere is the most logical. With surgeons and EMTs all around, body armor, personal guards and all the other crap, getting close and shooting her, or him, is unlikely."

  "Yes, though possible. We'll up our armor standards."

  "Since we can, yes. I've arranged for delivery of those items you and Jason requested. They're located in these three positions." She pointed to a map and spun it through three dimensions. One in the upper mine control, one in this tower, one on the far side of the dome.

  "Hopefully we won't need them, but thanks very much."

  "Otherwise, I've arranged for extra masks, filters and bottled breathing mix, in bottles I've personally inspected and seen the images of, to be stored in various places with coded seals. If any of those seals gets tampered with, we scream."

  "Yes, absolutely." He checked over the list. "That's everywhere I'd have spares. Well done."

  "A great mind thinks alike."

  "So let's do some inspections, and on with the war."

  Elke was absolutely overwhelmed by the EVA.

  She didn't mind deep space. Nor was she afraid of the molten glob within touching distance, though that was an illusion; they were twenty kilometers away. She also found it fascinating and beautiful, a lovely perk of the trip.

  However, she had to keep close tabs on Caron, be ready to back Alex up, watch the workers in the vicinity against possible weapons fire or even just large masses that might crush her principal. Then there was suit management, her own location and movement, harness fuel, helmet atmosphere, and not getting blinded by the melt, the mirrors or the local sunlight.

  The layout was interesting. The mirrors were wired together with monstrous molecular cables, which had large drums to maneuver them around like sails in the stellar wind. One crew maintained that.

  Another crew managed the melt, advising the first team on foci and distance to stratify the various metals and keep the slag outgassing.

  One group managed the feeding driver, that kept ore moving into the melt, which also helped balance temperature—more cold metal and greater mass reduced latent heat of the entire sphere, but had to be done at a measured rate to avoid instabilities.

  Outside the smelter proper, another group took care of receiving incoming ore from throughout the system. Once a melt was complete, that crew would see it was maneuvered to the Whip and flung at the Jump Point.

  Before that, though, the melt had to be put into shade and cooled enough to handle, a process taking weeks, and have mounts attached with what amounted to a skyscraper-sized fusion welder. One previous mass floated behind a black sun screen, visibly dark rather than incandescent but possibly still several hundred degrees.

  Less than two hundred people handled all this, from a control station in the umbra of the mirrors, managing it all by remote. Behind that were their living quarters; small but private pie-shaped cabins in a converted oxygen tank a hundred meters long. That would be replaced eventually. Some of the accumulated slag was being collected into a sphere around waste water. The mirrors would melt it until the steam pressure blew it into a bubble.

  The lead engineer graciously let them examine his quarters and pass through the control station. Now he and Caron discussed the operation while floating tethered to one of the cables that held the station and mirrors together.

  He was almost certainly safe, she knew. They were also in perhaps the most potentially dangerous peacetime location Elke had ever experienced. A simple twitch could incinerate them like ants under a magnifying glass, into a whiff of vapor. Any number of accidents could hole suits, tumble them off, or otherwise cause them to be dead.

  She settled herself by calculating the awesome energy involved in this process and admiring its beauty, while monitoring the man's distance and movements.

  Control came on air and said, "EVA Party, I'm seeing some splatter. It might be a good idea to come back inside."

  Right then something like gravel bounced off her faceplate, leaving dimples. Then there was a lot of it. It felt like some school child throwing a handful of dirt, except it was hard enough to hurt.

  Jason grabbed Caron and started hauling in on the tethers. Elke made note of that, checked time automatically, and yanked herself in to ensure she was between the two of them and the other personnel. There were some shouts and muttered curses, both about that and about the incoming splatter. She wasn't letting anyone near Caron, however, even if it meant greater risk for them.

  Jason moved well, but the tethers didn't retract fast enough and there was some tangling. Then he cursed, and shifted to free lines.

  More debris pelted them, stinging slightly through the fitted suits. A blinding flash moved over them as the mirrors were adjusted. Elke cursed in Czech, as she always did, since it was more colorful for her.

  Then they all piled behind the screen that shielded the airlock, and cycled through.

  Once inside, Elke reset the lock fast for the next person, and turned. Caron and Jason had helmets off. She helped Jason pat Caron down through the coarse woven armor mesh, and looked for any damage or injury. There were a few minor fabric snags that didn't compromise integrity, and Caron seemed bruised at most.

  Elke felt a sting and realized she had a large sore spot on one hip.

  The others cycled in behind them, quickly filling the small space. Jason popped open a hatch with more curses. Then he spoke very politely.

  "I would like to inquire why that warning took so long," he said. Elke could tell he was beyond pissed.

  Inside the control booth, she saw a young engineer with the common shaggy haircut, scrawny in a shapeless coverall.

  "Sir!" the man snapped in response to Jason's projected anger. "Interference is common, and I was also a bit distracted. Sorry, sir."

  He didn't quite shy away, but clearly looked scared.

  Elke said, "I was distracted, too. There was a lot going on." She didn't add that she was effectively a tourist, and someone assigned here should do better. She wanted to make sure Jason didn't choke the boy first.

  The station manager was last in after his people, which was creditable. He looked at the open hatch, the expressions, and spoke up.

  "Vapor bubbles happen from time to time. Either a spot of slag or a lighter metal vaporizes, and then pops out. Given the mirror area, about half the time the splash melts and is driven back by photon pressure. Half the time it misses completely. Occasionally it tears an edge or a line. I've only been sprayed once before."

  "Radar?" Jason asked.

  "The radar and other sensors are for monitoring volume
, bolometric temperature, dross depth. There's always slag, vapor and debris. The pulses are tagged, but still have to fight the environment."

  The watch stander spoke again. "I was listening to the discussion. We don't get VIPs very often, and I let that distract me. I really am sorry."

  He looked it, too.

  Jason turned and asked, "Elke?"

  There were a lot of questions in that one word.

  Was this something to discuss in public? Though there wasn't really any privacy and they needed resolution fast. Nor would whispering make anyone less uncomfortable.

  Jason was obviously wondering if the warning, coming barely ahead of the molten metal storm, was intended to cover someone against an accident that might not have been. She though over the events, then spoke carefully.

  "I can't see a viable way to plan a vapor burst to actually aim this way. Even if there was, no one here would do so. They'd be as likely to kill themselves. There is a lot of clutter, slag, vapor, cables, gear and people moving around. Even with good automated interpretation, there wouldn't be much warning. The splash was mostly very small pieces that didn't cause any actual damage. I'd call it an accident, even if the timing is ironically bad."

  Caron spoke up, "Of course no one did it on purpose. I appreciate your concern Elke, Jason, but I know I can trust my senior engineers."

  Jason said, "Very well. I intended no offense, I just have to put your safety first."

  Engineerboss said, "We were pretty much done out there anyway. We can see the rest better from here." He seemed faintly embarrassed, and concerned about the event.

  "Show me, please," Caron said.

  Several hours later they finished the inspection and headed back to the boat. Elke went first, checked all her seals were in place, called for Caron, and Jason came in last.

  As soon as he unsealed his helmet she said, "I'm sorry for acting put upon. I know the threat is real, but I have to be diplomatic with my staff."

  "Of course you do," Jason said. "Don't worry about it. You can even use as as an excuse for anything you don't want to do. 'Security concerns.' We're fine being the bad guys if it keeps you safe. I just had to have an answer right then."