Been There, Done That (April Book 10)

by Mackey Chandler

  “Here they are. One was a ten buck winner, but it isn’t worth driving all the way back down the mountain for ten bucks,” Diana complained.

  Eric looked at the tickets, and his heart sank. “These are so fancy… If you want them metalized with bright colors and all these graphics it’s going to take some design time. You’ll probably have to have them printed on Earth still. I don’t know anybody on Home who does flashy stuff like this. Are you sure you need physical tickets? You could just do it all digitally with a code.”

  “No, if I distribute tickets people will know it isn’t just a scam and I’m not just spoofing the whole thing existing. That’s too easy to do online. Maybe later I can do fancy,” Diana decided on the spot. “They are pretty garish. And these are the sort of smaller games they keep changing every few months. I’m going to go for one big jackpot. We can take the high road and make the ticket a lot more conservative. Maybe just use a complicated logo, something classy like a coat of arms. The administrative costs for a bunch of little prizes would be prohibitive.”

  “I’d want the same that Jeff pays me, a half percent of gross and he covers the cost of consumables like paper. I build and maintain my own equipment and own it.” He scrunched up his face deep in thought… “This is risky, isn’t it?” Eric asked.

  “Well sure. But people know that,” Diana assured him. “Some of the big games in North America you only have one chance in a couple hundred million of winning the big prize. It’s a weird thing, anybody with the mathematical awareness of a fruit fly knows it’s a terrible bet, but people are buying the dream, not seriously thinking they will win.” Diana frowned and remembered something. “I promised April a percent just for the idea. I’ll give you a full percent too.”

  “Thank you, but I meant risky for you. I assume you have to pay out even if you don’t sell enough tickets to cover the prize. I’m pretty sure online begging sites and sites that are for fund raising projects won’t touch this. If you didn’t make goal and had to pay people back who paid you with their card, the transaction fees alone would eat you up. Are you rich?” Eric asked.

  “I’m, not hurting… but your point is well taken. I won’t risk more than I can cover,” Diana promised. “I’m the counter party in this bet if you think about it.”

  Eric scrunched his eyebrows together deep in thought. Lindsey looked up from down the table and seemed alarmed.

  “I know that look,” she told Eric. “It’s Diana’s idea. You aren’t thinking of competing with her before she even gets her first game for sale are you? I didn’t hear her demand confidentiality and a non-compete agreement, but it wouldn’t be nice to do that to her.”

  “No, no, no such thing,” Eric insisted. But Diana noted he didn’t say he couldn’t. Neither did he protest that he’d never consider doing such a thing. She made a mental note to set those terms and more first, next time. “I was just thinking what Irving would tell me. I’m learning a lot of financial stuff from him, and he’d advise spreading the risk. Especially just starting out and you have no idea how people will respond, first offering.”

  He looked back at Diana. “I know you’d like to make a killing on it, but if you aren’t a hundred percent sure it’ll fly, and don’t want to be ruined if it doesn’t, then bring in some partners to dilute your exposure.”

  Diana smiled at how comfortable this kid was using business jargon. He sounded more like her third husband than a teenager.

  “That seems like excellent advice,” Diana said around her grin. “How much were you interested in buying in?” she teased him.

  He leaned back and dug in his pants pocket. He got a fistful of coins out of a leather change purse and considered them carefully before putting a few back. “How about twenty Solars?” Eric asked, putting them on the table. “Now… this is separate from any agreement to do your printing. I’ll do that, and any electronic version you want to add later, for my percent. With this I’m buying an interest in shared profits like anybody else after expenses. So I’ll be sharing in paying myself. It’s a little complicated so sit down and write it out right now to make sure we keep it all straight later. If you talk to Lindsey real sweet I bet she’ll buy into a chunk of it too.”

  “That is… five hundred grams of gold?” Diana asked in a small voice.

  “Yeah, a half kilo,” Eric agreed, oblivious to her surprise.

  “Eric, Honey.”

  “Yes ma’am?” he said politely.

  “I appreciate your instruction,” she told him truthfully.

  Chapter 12

  The Hringhorni was functional except for minor sub-systems and supplies. Jeff brought Deloris and Kurt from the Moon to ferry her back to Central for a final outfitting. Alice wasn’t really needed for the short hop.

  Jeff saw to it Heather’s new flag was painted by the airlock. He got a kick out of seeing it. He realized he was more concerned about it than she was, but he appreciated symbolism. The way he named his ships showed that.

  They now had an automated radio beacon to use as a claim marker at each planetoid. Jeff was surprised when April wanted to know exactly how they intended to use them. He just figured you dropped each off on the surface and turned them on. What could be simpler?

  April didn’t want them turned on until they had them all placed. If something went wrong she didn’t want the Earthies to know, she wanted a chance to fix it quietly. She also wanted the radios to orbit each body so they couldn’t get stuck behind one as it rotated and undetectable from Earth for long periods. Bringing them online one by one would tell the Earth nations entirely too much about how quickly they could move from place to place. The psychological impact of having them all come on line at the same time would be beneficial too. Firing them up one after the other would draw out their displeasure and arguments more than getting it over all at once. Jeff couldn’t understand why that should be, but was willing to concede she understood people better than him.

  The radios were fusion powered, and would require refueling in a couple years. That seemed a reasonable limitation since they’d be dropping off some French mills that would have to be recovered sooner anyway. The beacons repeated a message saying the planetoid was claimed by the Sovereign of Central, being actively mined, and that the automated machinery on site was owned and actively working, not abandoned.

  Jeff kindly dissuaded April from asking they take a spare radio since he’d neglected to buy one. He promised to have another built, but not delay their launch to wait for it. If one needed to be replaced, excessive flight time to do so was no longer a factor. April reluctantly agreed. The four radios were compact, but the two French mills they had been able to prepare for the harsher conditions, took a substantial portion of the cargo space in the new vessel. Four would have been difficult to fit.

  Heather pointed out there would be little surprise if they maintained a constant radio chatter between all the locations they were leaving claims markers and the Moon or Home. Anybody with a decent radio telescope could easily become aware something was happening out there from their traffic. So they agreed to let their crew work in radio silence unless they had an emergency.

  Kurt inquired in the most innocent and neutral voice if this new mission was to be included under the terms they already established for shares in extra-solar claims, or if they needed to negotiate a separate compensation agreement?

  Jeff looked like he’d taken an arrow to the chest, speechless for a moment.

  April, speaking up quickly before he recovered, said there was plenty of profit to go around and no reason to get cheap with them now. The last said, looking Jeff in the eye, sternly.

  “If you had tried to set different terms with Kurt for the crew,” April informed Jeff after Kurt was gone, “I can assure you he was prepared to hold out for better pay not less. He didn’t just think of that and mention it offhand. He had it all scripted out beforehand with his partners. If you’d argued with him he might very well have told you to fly the damn thing yourself.�
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  “Oh,” Jeff said, and just nodded, short of words.

  “You can’t blame them really,” April insisted. “I know they are getting a base pay, but that’s survival money. You know they wouldn’t do this kind of risky work for that alone. It may be years before any profits from star exploration can be cashed out. Eventually, owning a huge chunk of land on a distant planet is fine, but you can’t take it down to the club right now and buy a beer with it. These bodies are close enough we’ll have some pay-out in hand soon. I’m betting within the year unless the output of the French mills is a total bust.”

  The Hringhorni lifted from the Moon with no destination declared, and very little public comment. There was some speculation on the lunar and Home gossip boards, but silence as far as their clipping services and what informants reported from Earth.

  April and her partners privately wondered if any of the Earth intelligence agencies held any opinions. Or if one private Central registered vessel was beneath their notice. Indeed, other than accepting traffic requests, there was no official acknowledgment that Central existed. Central didn’t have a treaty with any Earth powers like Home supposedly possessed, whatever the status or dubious benefit that had at the moment. Nor any embassies. Even China in dealing with Jeff and Heather had framed everything as a verbal agreement. There was no fancy printed treaty with seals and signatures. His word meant something, and their word better, if they knew what was good for them.

  Going a couple weeks without news was more nerve racking than any of them anticipated. Jeff was of the opinion their crew was probably happier not needing to make periodic reports and just get on with their job. He repeated that often enough April decided he was convincing himself anew of it each time.

  * * *

  “Yes, yes, I realize there are less than five thousand people on Home and the Moon. I didn’t intend to limit us to that for the lotto,” Diana said. “I hoped to sell to Earth too. There are space nuts in almost every country.”

  “You do realize almost all the nations and territories on Earth have their own lotteries and will take a dim view of you competing with them?” Sylvia said. “They will either outlaw playing yours or set a confiscatory tax on winning from outside their jurisdiction.”

  “Yeah, Hawaii didn’t have one for the longest time. To compete it has to be something worth coming here to claim the prize,” Diana said. “Lots of people already want to come to Home. A decent prize might make it possible.”

  “But the problem is still the housing shortage. I don’t think you could raise enough money to buy even the smallest two person apartment as a prize,” Sylvia warned.

  “No, I looked into that for myself,” Diana admitted. “One unit sold in the last year and it was listed for cash sale in Solars only and there was a nondisclosure agreement for the final price. The rest were all trades in kind to size up or down.

  “How about where my dad works, on the Moon?” Eric asked. “Heather still sells lots at Central. He got property as part of his pay.”

  “Yes, but it’s just land and you need a lot of money to put in your own infrastructure,” Lindsey said. “You need everything, just like living in a ship. It’s harder even than coming to Home,” Lindsey said.

  “And you don’t want your winner come to Home ill prepared and not be able to make a go of it. A lot of lotto winners on Earth can’t handle their winnings and go bust. If word gets around they ended up worse off than before, it’ll hurt sales even if it wasn’t our fault,” Sylvia said.

  “Forget offering real estate as a prize for now,” Diana decided, “maybe we can do that some time in the future, when the market isn’t so crazy.”

  “A cash prize won’t work either,” Eric said. “Solars are illegal a bunch of places and gold itself is illegal to hold more countries than not.”

  “Want to put your house up?” Sylvia asked Diana. “If you’re going to stay here do you really need a Hawaiian vacation home?”

  “I’m not ready to cut the cord,” Diana said, “and the political situation still isn’t settled to my mind. The more radical factions there that want to depopulate the islands and only allow Hawaiians might still get the ascendancy. Or create so much trouble people don’t want to go there until it is settled. I want something for a prize that is space oriented, not a one-time Hawaiian thing.”

  “Well what do we make here that would make a decent lotto prize?” Lindsey asked. “Everything I can think of is a bunch of little units, electronics or drugs. We can’t afford a place to live, and I bet it’s just as far out of reach to buy a spaceship right now.” That made everybody smile.

  “How about one of your drawings or a glass panel like you two are working on?” Eric asked. “Art shouldn’t be prohibited on Earth.”

  “It is some places, but I can sell all I want,” Lindsey protested. “I don’t want to look like I needed to do that to move it. Anyway, it’s not big enough to fire up people’s imaginations. We need something that motivates them.”

  “Silly me!” Diana declared suddenly. “Why did I come to Home?”

  “For the abundance of rich single men?” Sylvia asked.

  “Hush you, there are impressionable children present,” Diana said.

  Eric looked over both shoulders like he might find them.

  “Life Extension Therapy,” Diana announced, smiling.

  “Isn’t it illegal on Earth?” Lindsey asked.

  “Not everywhere,” Diana insisted. “And most places just restrict it, Switzerland, Italy, and Iceland allow limited life extension, a lot more let you fix things seen as defects. It’s a significant market. Just China alone is wide open. You can buy anything you can afford and anything they will do, but Home has the best reputation for quality, and Ames, who I used, is the best of the best. There are still stories that make people worry about the safety of it, and China selling weird stuff like webbed feet and hands doesn’t make people trust LET any better let me tell you. People can picture going to sleep with the wrong drip in their arm and waking up looking like a frog.”

  “What will you call the game?” Eric asked, wondering how difficult his printing job would be. “The LET Lotto?”

  “A lot of people aren’t familiar with that acronym or it doesn’t even make sense in their language,” Diana said. “Call it the Life Lotto. It has more emotional appeal and can make sense in translation.”

  They all looked at each other and nodded agreement.

  “Dr. Ames has a couple very tiny rooms for transient patients,” Sylvia remembered. “We could offer it as a medical vacation. I like it. Throw in a lift ticket and a one week card for the cafeteria. It’s a nice package.”

  “Maybe offer two prizes in two games,” Lindsey suggested. “For one person, or a double package that would attract married couples. We can get a hotel room for them if we plan well ahead. I think maybe we can fund both offers at once.

  “Are you going to buy a few tickets?” Diana asked Lindsey

  “I can afford to have it done right now,” Lindsey assured her. “I just know Dr. Ames won’t treat me before I’m emancipated, and my mom would never OK it.”

  “Wouldn’t your dad allow it?” Diana wondered.

  “Yeah, if I want to be the final controversy that made my mom and dad split up. I’ll wait a couple years still rather than get blamed for that the rest of my life. It’s a near thing right now, and I can tell you my mom will never admit anything is her fault. Guess who is handiest to blame if they argue over me?” Lindsey raised her hand just in case Diana had any doubt.

  Diana felt terrible. She kept dredging up unpleasant stuff for these kids.

  * * *

  Adam, AKA agent 71, was turned over by Meijer to two security men who took him to his room. He shared it with another fellow in food service, but he was off at work so they didn’t have to deal with him. He was told to pack everything he owned because he wouldn’t be coming back.

  He fit everything he owned in a big soft bag easily, leaving his
linens. They were issue and he figured he’d have new ones wherever they sent him. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed alcohol and didn’t want to ask, so he took his half bottle of vodka over to his room mate’s side and left it on the com desk along with an opened bag of snacks. What he really worried about was his computer, but they didn’t react at all when he put it in its bag and hung it from his shoulder. He had a load with both bags but neither offered to give him a hand.

  Looking around it felt funny to leave the only place he’d stayed since coming to Mars, but he turned back to his escort and said, “Let’s go.”

  They went straight to transport and entered a passenger rover through a short connector. Passenger rover meaning it had six seats latched in take-holds in the cargo deck. The driver or his assistant came back and asked if he had a pad. When he produced it the fellow not only turned the satellite location app off, but uninstalled it before handing it back. That was unnerving.

  It was a long ride with two other men in the passenger seats who not only didn’t talk to him, but they never passed a word between them. The ride was pretty smooth so they must not be riding off across virgin ground. He thought of checking the time after awhile but decided it might look like he was trying to time the trip. Since they didn’t want him able to locate where he was going that might arouse suspicions. He’d know approximately anyway.

  It was dark when they finally arrived and Adam was taken straight to a room for the night, but escorted by only one guard here. He wasn’t fed on the rover and it was well past supper time, but someone had thought to leave him a scrambled egg sandwich and a big can of self-heating stew in his room. There wasn’t anything to drink with it, but he had a tiny private bath with a tap. Any source of water here should be safe and potable.

  It was only about an hour past his usual bed time after he ate. The room com had no message signals blinking, so he just set an alarm on his pad, giving himself an extra half hour rather than mess with a new com. That let him check the time without making a show of doing so. Until he had firm reason to believe otherwise he’d assume he was under constant surveillance.