April 3: The Middle of Nowhere

by Mackey Chandler

  "Did you just abandon the boat there?" Elena asked. She loved sailing.

  "Oh it had a crew to take it away, you don't sail that sort of a boat alone, it was a twenty-three meter ketch. Much more boat than I'm qualified to sail except with the master standing right behind me. You don't sail a little boat around the Pacific like in a sheltered bay. It was very pleasant though. I'd do it again in a heartbeat for a vacation. We anchored in an unpopulated atoll for a few days and had some nice snorkeling," he said wistfully.

  "I thought you had seen some sun lately," James said nodding.

  "Yeah, people on Home run to the pale don't they?" he said, looking at the back of his hand like it was a new idea. "Unless you are like her buddy Jeff. He's Indian and has a coppery bronze skin half of California would kill to acquire. This'll fade quickly enough though. I doubt there is a tanning booth to be had on the hab."

  "I'd never heard of such a thing," April confirmed.

  "They are almost regulated out of existence in North America," Gunny remarked.

  "I will not say anything," James vowed, "in Europe we'd have a nine thousand page regulation that describing how they may be offered in such complex detail nobody could feel they were in safe compliance."

  "Ah, another pair of potential immigrants seeking freedom," April asserted. She stopped in front of an elevator and called it. "Be careful," she warned, "We are going in two levels and you will weigh about half what you are used to. Some folks are awkward at first."

  "In principle that would be true," James allowed. "However we are spoiled by spacious quarters and the ability to get out and travel. We are not unaware we are of the privileged class of our society too. I enjoy knowing the Monarch even if I am a poor distant relation. It would be a very difficult decision to emigrate. I doubt you have much need of people to guard antiquities or manage charities so what would we do?" he pointed out.

  "We have a professor of Medieval Music who had a similar problem," April told them. "She is a cook and manager in the cafeteria. She has been very entertaining a few times playing the keyboard on a harpsichord setting hardly anyone else has a clue how to use."

  "I didn't know you felt oppressed," Helena said surprised. "You have certainly never seemed the firebrand ready to join a revolution. Just the opposite." She was bouncing on her toes a little feeling the difference in spin.

  "I chaff at the little things. The speed limit along the road to our country home goes up and down with no logic. The road has so many signs instructing me what to do and what they consider dangers that I can hardly see the countryside. Do we really need some authority telling us how long a banana must be to legally be offered for sale in the store?"

  "Amazing, I'm married to a dissident and never knew it."

  "Free the bananas!" April offered, giggling. The door opened and they exited, cautiously.

  "My God, I can actually wear high heels comfortably," Helena said amazed.

  "I should like to try playing basketball at this gravity," James said. "I tried the game in college and found I had no talent for jumping. Nor dribbling or shooting," he admitted after a thoughtful pause. Helena just patted his arm.

  "Now that would be something to see," April said visualizing it. "A half G compartment big enough to hold a basketball court!"

  The corridor was semi-industrial, a cork-like soft floor instead of carpeting. The light strips were bare instead of indirect and muted. Some of the doors had business names and logos. April's grandpa stopped at a plain door with a plate beside it that simply said 117-C. He rang the bell and waited. When a fellow answered he said, "Member Happy Lewis and four guests." The fellow looked familiar but April didn't know his name. He had on a white dinner jacket and nodded to her grandpa. "Thank you Mr. Lewis. Follow me please."

  The vestibule was an L-shaped standard Mitsubishi lock. April noticed the controls were naked rather than behind a panel. Just inside there was a sort of lectern and they were handed off to a pretty young woman who led them down a narrow aisle left between tables. The space had probably been warehousing. It looked to be about forty seats and a stand up bar along one wall. In a half G standing would be no burden, but then April saw the bar had pull down stools.

  The tables seemed to be custom made to maximize the seating. The young woman went to a table clearly too large for them and released something under the edge. The table split about a third of the way down and she pushed the smaller section away on a track and locked it down.

  The Home people insisted the Alphonses take the cushioned fold-down seats built into the bulkhead. Truth be known April preferred the fabric on a frame chairs common to low G levels. There was a very shallow stage, a door that must lead to a kitchen and a door with a small sign indicating it was the poker room. It was an impressive volume and represented a respectable amount of capital or a rather large rental fee to cover.

  The bar had shelves of bottles behind it that would have taken a lot of floor space, but then April spotted the illusion. It was a big screen showing tiers of bottles, but fake and above the bottles a pseudo painting of a life-size nude lady in warm gold and red colors who was so ample she bordered on chubby. The top shelf of bottles were made to look like they were in front of her helping the illusion, as did an ornate gilded frame cunningly shadowed for depth.

  The overhead took advantage of the industrial height ceiling and was made to look like a glowing sky of turbulent clouds. It was used to provide most of the lighting. Their waiter showed up just then. He was young and wore a long sleeved white shirt and black slacks. He had no jacket but wore a cummerbund with a com pad and a few other items tucked in it. He had dark hair too long for p-suit work and a neat little moustache. April decided he was unusually cute.

  "I am required to mention first thing that there are emergency p-suits in the cabinets above you on the bulkhead should need ever arise. With that out of the way, would you folks like drinks?"

  "Does everybody like champagne?" April's grandfather asked. Nobody objected to that so he ordered an Australian and a couple platters of appetizers. The bucket came out on wheels with a magnum and the waiter was deft with the towel and had it open quickly.

  They served in the deep flutes instead of the shallow saucer type glasses. That saved room on the small table, April figured out. The waiter didn't make a big show of getting her grandpa's approval, but did hesitate to get a nod from him before proceeding. The champagne was pink and fruity, not dead dry, but not very sweet either.

  The musicians came on and their leader took a moment to discuss the history of each song and who had done famous versions of it. He had a screen behind the stage and showed pix of the original musicians and some of the old clubs where the music was played.

  The kitchen caught up to the bar and they got two platters in a wire frame that had a second level to conserve table space. There were oysters Rockefeller and shrimp wrapped with prosciutto, bite sized empañadas and Thai spring rolls that were in a wrapper so thin it was transparent on one platter. The other plate was of cold things, basically an anti-pasta, but with some odd items like sweet-hot pickled watermelon rind and a few deviled eggs made blazing hot.

  When the players were done with their first set their waiter appeared and asked if they wanted dinner. James and Elena were ready for a meal on their personal clock and accepted menus gratefully. April took one as much to see what they served as to order. Only Happy declined, saying he knew what he wanted.

  "Waiter, you gave me a guest menu, I'd like a priced one please," James said.

  "Sir, I was firmly told never to present a bill to an owner's table, so whatever you wish is with our compliments, please."

  James looked at Gunny, you could practically hear the wheels turning. He likely hadn't been on home long enough to be a club owner. He looked between April's poker faced grandfather and her and hesitated. Rather than pick the wrong benefactor he diplomatically looked back down at the menu and said," That's very generous of you, thank you."

  What cou
ld she do? She had no idea they'd refuse her money and she was outed. "You're welcome," April assured him.

  The Alphonses took the beef tenderloin, he with garlic potatoes and she with pasta. Happy had a large bowl of seafood chowder with breadsticks, April had never tried one so she got an oyster po' boy with sweet potato fries.

  Gunny was looking at the menu critically. "The lobster, is that just the tail?" he asked.

  "Oh no sir. It's the whole live lobster. Most are about a kilogram but we have a few two to three kilo' available."

  "Give me a big one and the cherrystone clams on the side and the roasted sweet corn."

  "Would you like that steamed, grilled or cooked and then chilled?"

  "Just the traditional steamed is fine."

  "Butter, plain mayonnaise, or aioli?"

  "Butter and butter for the corn too, please."

  "Do you want the whole lobster or would you like just the tail and the claws cracked and brought to the table to make it more manageable?"

  "Oh bring me the whole thing, I'm an expert at cracking them, you'll see."

  "My wife and I used to go up to Maine on vacation," Gunny informed the table. "I loved the lobster fresh off the boat, they'd cook it in sea water with the corn and redskin potatoes in the same pot. Not far from where our friend is going," he said in an aside to April.

  "We have never visited New England," James admitted. "We have been to the Midwest on official business. But North America has made visiting as private tourists so difficult, I doubt we'll ever have opportunity to do that."

  April could have strangled Gunny for mentioning Papa-san and his mission. Was it the champagne loosening him up that easily? She'd have to watch and see if that was a pattern. The musicians did a second set and Gunny was considerate enough to crack his claws inside a napkin to mute them. He was right too, he got every morsel slick as could be, with no shell fragments flying about.

  "This place is cute," Helena said. "I didn't know what to expect, but you certainly aren't roughing it up here."

  "You're kind, but I imagine you are used to much more elaborate entertainment. I was just in Hawaii a month ago and I could see it was possible to go to new places every day for months and never run out. I have some friends going to the moon soon to establish a base and start a real estate endeavor. I asked one of the principal investors if he was going and he said no, he likes his hot showers and eating at the cafeteria and had no desire to go rough it for months. I guess what is luxury and what is roughing it depends a great deal on what you are used to."

  "We have some relatives who have a ridiculous concept of necessity," Helena admitted, nodding. "If my sister doesn't have her favorite brand of bottled water she flails about in prolonged high drama over how life is hard."

  They finished up the champagne before it was dead flat and got a pot of coffee. It was okay, but April decided if this place was going to represent her she wanted the coffee upgraded. She got key lime pie, Helena got a triple chocolate torte and her husband got spumoni. Her grandpa was content with a bourbon, neat and Gunny got a piece of open face blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream. She was starting to wonder where it all fit even as big as he was. He usually was more restrained but seemed to be allowing himself a special treat tonight.

  The Alphonses thanked her again, but assured her they could find Dr. Ames in the morning thanks to the spex and her instructions. In fact they felt they could return to their hotel without any trouble. "Let me at least send Gunny with you," April asked. "My grandpa lives right by me. He can walk me home."

  "Are you armed?" Gunny asked Happy, full of caution.

  "Of course," he replied, sliding his tux back to show a Singh laser. "I've just been enhanced too, though I doubt I'm as fast as her yet. Jelly said he's finding out there is a follow on period after the initial infection. People keep getting faster for several months. Maybe for as much as six months, but he's not sure yet. It's too early to tell."

  "Is there really any danger walking the corridors?" James asked.

  "We haven't had a crime of violence in the last year that wasn't caused by an outside agent from some political entity and just a couple of those," Happy assured him. "But we value our guests and granddaughters," he said, grinning at April.

  "Let's go then, before they start up again and we disrupt the next set getting up," James said. "A pleasure to meet you and I'm sure we'll see you again."

  * * *

  "What did Mr. Lewis mean by enhanced?" James asked Gunny in the corridor.

  "The doctor you intend to visit offers a genetic modification to greatly decrease most folks' reaction time."

  "Really? That's what it sounded like. We were interested in," he looked at his wife, "other services. We must inquire about his full range of treatments. Have you had this treatment?" he asked.

  "I'm naturally fast," Gunny told him, not bragging, just stating the fact. "Perhaps a little faster than some of the folks with the mod."

  "Do you know if that has anything to do with his hair coming in dark instead of white?" Helena wondered.

  "I just assumed he had some other Life Extension Therapy done, but I don't really know," Gunny admitted. "If he wants to volunteer things like having his reflexes being enhanced that's fine, but I'd never ask about private medical things."

  Ah, that was a little rebuke there, wasn't it? Helena thought, amused rather than angry.

  "That's very interesting," James allowed.

  * * *

  "Did you see the look Miss Lewis gave her bodyguard when he mentioned their friend going somewhere in New England?" James asked his wife as he undressed.

  "Oh yes, she looked like she was considering climbing over the table and slitting his throat to shut him up."

  "Do you think they were name dropping with Wiggen?"

  "Not a bit. I suspect that story she never went back to about the spy and the safe room was the straight stuff too."

  "Did you run it on your phone for veracity?" he asked.

  "Didn't have to, I could read it was fact on Gunny's face."

  "He is rather readable isn't he?"

  "Yes, but I suspect the world is a safer place for that."

  "Do you think their friend visiting New England might have anything to do with that big boat that dropped them off?"

  "I think that's a really good guess, Dear. I doubt it is just circling around waiting for them to need it again." James did surprise her sometimes by connecting things.

  "Well, that is all very interesting, but I can't see it affects Spain. I think we should mind our own business and not mention any of this to Carl's snoops, don't you?"

  "Our agents too easily drop a tidbit of information to other agencies trying to act as if they know more than they do to tease a little bit more out of them and not worrying nearly enough what they are stirring up. I'm starting to think these Home people are better not to provoke. If something unfortunate should happens to their boat in Maine who do you think April will remember heard something, no matter how vague, about their friend?"

  "She would, wouldn't she? And she knows we have a small secret to keep in being here."

  "In a heartbeat, Sweetie. And having our treatment revealed is the least of our worries. How would you like that bodyguard of hers sent out looking for you?"

  "That could be, unpleasant. He has a hard look about him and he is readable, but he isn't stupid. Would you like a hand with that zipper my dear?" he asked in a softer voice.

  "I think I deserve both hands," she purred.

  Chapter 16

  "Heather has everything ready to load for the moon," Jeff told April.

  "I'm not really doing any scheduling now, Jeff. Jed Allison is doing all that now."

  "Oh, I know that. He and Happy and Eddie all got a text about it. I just wanted to talk to you and tell you what is going on. It's nice to have you back. When you were down to Earth we really missed you. I get some of my best ideas talking to you," he allowed. "Now Heather and I are both away from yo
u again. We'll leave 0800 tomorrow and land on the moon three days later. That's plenty long to be cooped up in the Happy."

  "You got that right. Remember how long we were all jammed in her bringing your dad back from ISSII. I doubt you will be gone as long as that," April pointed out. "Just be careful for me please, both of you. Don't take any silly risks. Vacuum is very unforgiving. Do what my grandpa says even if it don't make sense. He didn't get to his age through all those hazardous work hours by luck."

  "Oh, I will," He agreed readily. "At least nobody will be shooting at us."

  Chapter17

  The French Heavy Shuttle Prospérité dropped to the newly finished landing pad as if on a string. It was a bright star coming in and only for the last few tens of meters the hull and the rocket exhaust could be seen from the side. The lunar landscape seen through it shimmered in the glowing shock diamonds.

  There was almost no dust raised and what little was lifted was thrown away from the shuttle at the very edge of the pad. That gave everybody on the crew watching it land a great deal of satisfaction. It had taken a great deal of hard work to make the field ready. Their first couple working days coping with the damnable dust had taken as much time as the actual work.

  Heather's crew made the landing pads their first priority because the irksome debris clung by electrostatic charge to everything and added an obscuring and abrasive film to every surface, seal and view port. It had to be cleaned away before taking off gloves and helmet or it would get inside and be even worse to clean up. Worse it itched. If their supply vessel had needed to sit down on virgin regolith the way they had done pioneering this site three days ago would have coated everything with dust for kilometers in every direction.

  The area, once cleared and leveled, was sealed by fusing a thick glassy layer of the moon dust with microwaves. An angled lip deflected any exhaust or debris reaching the edge upward. A fabricating company in Armstrong promised them a cleaning robot within the month that would patrol the pads like a Zamboni on an ice rink, sweeping and cleaning the surface and patching where needed. Their single light shuttle, a glorified orbital scooter, was jacked up on a wheeled dolly and pushed by hand into the center of the first pad finished. The crew already at work on the third such square sought shelter from the exhaust when the Prospérité landed, but headed back to work as soon as its engines shut down.