Been There, Done That (April Book 10)

by Mackey Chandler

  “I’m concerned, having an owner sitting a crew seat, if I am going to retain a clear command,” Delores said. “When we did simulations Jeff tended to break discipline and drop out of the sim.”

  April looked at Jeff, and waited.

  “It’s true. I got involved in a big discussion with Barak and totally dropped out. It was a very important insight however. When I get into something like that it’s like a trance. If I just shoved it aside to consider later I’m not sure I could ever pick the thread of the thought back up.”

  “Then, as much as I love you, I’m not sure you should sit a command seat,” April said. “Not unless maybe you run a bridge like a military vessel with no chit-chat allowed that could distract you. Delores has to wonder now if you’d do the same thing when it isn’t a sim. It’s her job to consider if that would be a danger. That could kill everybody.”

  “I feel I can break my concentration at need,” Jeff objected. “When I was deep into it with James Weir all you had to do was look over his shoulder at me and shake your head no. But my ego isn’t so big I’d insist on sitting an active board while Delores is in command, if she decides she doesn’t want it.”

  Delores nodded an acknowledgement of that, but didn’t say what she’d decide one way or another. Jeff hadn’t demanded that, so April thought taking some time to think on it was smart.

  “I’ve sat in your seat, in command, so I’m not going to try to assert command suddenly. I may assert myself over you for business decisions, but those seldom require split second timing.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Delores demanded.

  “You can set my board to weapons,” April volunteered. “If you did need a gunner none of the other three seats are really totally free of duties to take it over. And if you ever do need it I have actual experience.”

  “I’ll be honest with you. I think it is a silly waste of mass to arm us, and three kinds of missiles is just overkill. If there was anything in a couple hundred light years to worry about that way we’d have heard them,” Delores insisted. “And if you did have a hostile I’d still need to release your weapons and give you leave to maneuver to effectively fight such a small vessel.”

  “Yes ma’am, and if that ever happens, don’t wait until we are all dead to release me to do my job,” April warned. “Time is of the essence in those circumstances. Last time I fought a ship action we had four kinds of weapons and used all of them to prevail.

  “You have three variations of only one system, missiles, and only seven missiles total. Four of those are small, short range, and pretty much useful for defense only. I hope I never need any but that seems like a scant load. But mostly I’m not expecting them or me to be needed. I just want to come along and see a different star. Call it owner’s privilege, not hard necessity.”

  When Jeff looked like he was going to object, April added, “While you are still going to do a close local jump we know is pretty safe.”

  Jeff closed his mouth back shut, and even managed to smile, but it was a forced brittle smile and didn’t fool anyone.

  “Do you have a target system in mind?” Delores wanted to know.

  “How do you feel about 61 Virginis?” April asked her. Asked all four of them really since they were listening, even Kurt who wasn’t coming, but Delores had command and April intended to carefully defer to her.

  “That’s a little further,” Delores allowed. She said it so neutrally you wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a positive or negative without knowing her. April was sure she was ready to try a thousand light-year jump at the drop of a hat. April wasn’t ready to try that until they had worked up to it bit by bit or had some robotic probes do it and come back safe, for sure not with her onboard.

  * * *

  The Pravos were beyond easy to escort. They smiled all the time to the point Eric wondered at first if it was faked. He thought he was of fairly positive outlook, and pleasant demeanor, but they seemed delighted by everything. But the chatter they kept up found specific reasons for their enthusiasm at every turn that showed it was more than a superficial veneer.

  After a few hours of it, he was wondering if he needed to be more positive, instead of cautious and skeptical. Nobody had ever suggested that to him. They noted things with approval he took for granted. The Pravos didn’t fault him. They just made him feel that way by their example.

  He took them to the cafeteria to get their cards and eat lunch, and they engaged Wanda in a big discussion about Italian food. Pretty soon Ruby was drawn out of her office too, and the next thing he knew they were back in the kitchen with flour on Mrs. Pravos’ hands, waving a big knife around and talking about how to cut and dry noodles. When they ran down on noodles they found they could talk opera with Ruby.

  Then they went to the Home Chandlery to pick up their spex, where they read Zack’s specials and sales board, and immediately got into a huge discussion about cheese varieties with Zack. That somehow morphed into Zack telling them how he came to Home after a pretty extensive replay of how and where he grew up on Earth. Eric hadn’t heard most of that. Their enthusiasm seemed contagious.

  When he took them to their room at the Holiday Inn the manager escorted them to their room along with Eric like they were VIPs. It was amazing, for all of how easy they were to guide, he was exhausted by the time he promised to come back and guide them to dinner at the club. He was the youngster and they were middle aged, but the hectic morning seemed to have just energized them. He was left wondering if they were like this now, what they were going to be like after a full round of life extension therapies gave them new stamina?

  * * *

  Mackay meanwhile was sitting waiting for his charge to finish treatment at the Infirmary. Sabato decided to leave his hotel the night before unescorted and seek his own entertainment. He was directed by some helpful souls to an area near the Beam Dogs barracks, and inquired of the construction workers there where to find an escort more to his taste than Mackay.

  The combination of him failing to tell them all he had to pay with was depreciating EuroMarks, and the fact he believed all the Earthie news reports about spacer depravity, was a very bad mix. He really only had superficial contusions and a spectacular black eye. Mackay had to pay the people incensed at Sabato Solars, out of his own pocket, to keep matters from escalating to worse.

  The Beam Dog patrons of the same unofficial establishment were close to giving him an exterior tour of the station sans pressure suit before Sabato invoked Mackay’s name and somebody knew him. He was of mixed feelings about persuading them otherwise. He just hoped the man’s injuries wouldn’t prevent Dr. Ames from starting his treatment later today. The sooner he was done and gone the better for everyone. Mackay suspected life extension would be wasted on this creep, because it didn’t make you bulletproof. He couldn’t imagine the man ever dying of old age peacefully in his sleep.

  * * *

  Eileen was determined not to allow her problems with her family to spoil the spring festival for them. She was however practical and insisted Vic stay close by, to keep an eye on her, but not neglect safeguarding himself from her relatives.

  To that end they arranged to travel to and from the event with the Woodleigh family, and hired a young fellow from another nearby family to arrive separately and not associate with them there, but paid him be an extra set of eyes for them and observe from a distance. If he saw a threat materializing he’d alert them.

  The neighbor’s daughter, Pearl, sold Eileen a few items of clothing as she was a bit bigger and growing still like Eileen. She was still short of having enough for every-day wear, so that was a priority to acquire. Eileen’s mom said she was bringing her things, but they weren’t counting on it. Eileen suspected her family might miss the event if her father had his way. They had trade goods to sell though, and needed things, so he might not be able to bully the rest of them into staying home and letting him come alone.

  They planned to start at dawn and arrive early enough i
n the afternoon to have a little daylight to trade. The trek to the pole barn and impromptu fairgrounds was shorter than her hike to Vic’s house. They were the opposite direction than her folks from the festival, which seemed all to the good to Eileen.

  She embarrassed herself by asking if Vic would hire horses. He’d explained he only hired a horse for long range survey work and had avoided the roads where a horse made you a target. Also, the people who owned horses likely would use them, not rent them out as pack animals or rides to the festival.

  Vic was able to carry most of their trade goods, and a fanny pack that he assured her had everything they needed to make a camp. He had Eileen carry a few light things and some food. They had a dish to share for a pot luck table if that was arranged like some had suggested last fall. He had a modern carbine with a plastic stock and a little bump of an optic on it that wasn’t the usual big telescopic sight Eileen was used to. It hung at his left shoulder muzzle down walking and if he reached across he could take the pistol grip and swing it up to his right shoulder.

  “Why did you pick this rifle instead of others in the safe?” Eileen asked.

  “It’s my lightest, and the ammo is light too. I can carry a magazine in each pocket of my cargo pants without weighing me down,” Vic said. He showed her how to work the safety and insert a magazine, but apologized that he didn’t want to let her try shooting it just yet. It wasn’t like she’d never shot anything.

  They didn’t chatter a lot or loudly on the road. Mrs Woodleigh wasn’t a big talker anyway. They maintained a pace that didn’t invite much talking, and they were still concerned enough about bandits to keep a silent watch. The day was pleasant and it held without rain so that when they were about a kilometer away from the festival the wind shifted a little and they smelled smoke. That was probably from people cooking lunch.

  The pole building was on a rise, so when it came into sight they could see smoke rising from several sources in thin lines, and people were set up around the building to sell. A few had tents and would probably stay overnight if it was a long walk back home and they intended to stay late. Some would stay in the pole building despite a lack of privacy. Some would retreat further back down the road to have more privacy even if it was less secure, but many of them had dogs and enough people to keep a watch.

  Rather than speed up, they slowed down now that they had it in sight. It was safer now, being in sight of others, and they could see they were early enough there were still traders with people milling around them. There was no reason to arrive out of breath.

  The owner had marked off a wide lane with stones to the door at both ends of the building that was to be kept clear, and a three meter clear space around the outside of the building. He also built a separate double outhouse nearby so people didn’t need to go up to his house to use his.

  “How does Mr. Mast get paid for all these people trampling his lawn and using his pole barn?” Eileen wondered.

  “I suspect he’s taking the long view,” Vic said. “He isn’t trying to extract everything he can from those who don’t have much. If you want to set up a booth and leave it up between times he’ll work out a fee with you. If you want to store a pavilion or goods in the barn between times he’ll charge a little something for that too. He has an advantage going forward as long as he doesn’t chase people away. There are too many open fields where everybody could move to if he got greedy. The big payoff will come later, as people do better, and can pay more in a year or two. I imagine he’ll set up to take goods and hold them for pick-up.”

  “That would have risks,” Eileen realized.

  “That’s why I was speculating, and doubt he’d ever advertise that. He’d keep it private. I would,” Vic assured her.

  “I mean, would you leave goods with him and be sure he could keep them secure?” Eileen said in much more detail.

  “You see how his house is on a rise and he can look over the pole barn to see the approaches?” Vic asked.

  Eileen nodded.

  “You don’t want to come in here and try banditry with Mr. Mast,” Vic assured her. “Not unless you have a military force with heavy weapons.”

  It was kind of an odd situation in which they found themselves for their own security. Vic had a respectable pile of gold flakes and small nuggets. He’d shown Eileen where he hid his caches. That should trade for anything they wanted, because people could trade it on to others. It was easily as fungible as ammunition or canned goods. However, they both agreed it was too dangerous to become known for having gold until they had access to the outside world and a degree of anonymity again. They found other safer things to trade that wouldn’t raise eyebrows or cause talk that could lead to banditry.

  An old outbuilding on Vic’s property, too far gone to repair, provided some safe trade goods. He’d removed the few panes of glass still intact and a few door catches and other hardware. Then he pulled it the rest of the way down and burned it when there was still snow on the ground and no fire hazard. He had a couple bags of nails from that sorted for size and a roll of used ten gauge copper wire, mostly with insulation still on it.

  He also had twenty .22 long rifle cartridges in a box molded to hold fifty. He was almost as reluctant to show those to sell as gold. Eileen had asked, when he was revealing his trade goods, if he really wanted to trade them if they were that precious, and he’d blushed.

  “I have quite a few of them.”

  “Oh, if you are sure you won’t run out,” Eileen agreed.

  “I have a couple .22 rifles and a pistol,” Vic explained. “A gun almost always has a particular brand and type of ammo it shoots better. So when I got a new gun I’d buy five or six brands to try. Once I found which I liked I’d have a half box or so of the others, but I never threw them away, I just tossed them in a storage box. It added up. Then, once I knew which brand shot accurately and didn’t jam in the pistol I tended to just buy a brick or two whenever I was in town and stick them in the cabinet beside the gun safe. I’d trade the leftover odds and ends now, but not the good stuff that works well for my guns.”

  “How many cartridges are in a brick?” Eileen asked.

  “Five hundred. That sounds like a lot but it’s easy to shoot a couple hundred just knocking tin cans off the fence plinking with friends on the back porch. At least it was back when we knew we could buy more and it was cheap fun.”

  “So how many rounds do you have that you need to look so embarrassed?”

  “I haven’t counted,” Vic said, “but maybe two or three thousand rounds of odds and ends like this part box. The two brands that my guns all like I suspect I’ve got ten thousand all sealed up still I haven’t cracked open.”

  “That’s a life time supply,” Eileen said.

  “That could very well be,” Vic agreed. “I doubt the USNA is going to make it a priority to ship ammunition into the lawless zones. So it better last a lifetime, because I doubt we’ll get any more before you ascend to the heavens.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought beyond having things like food and gasoline again,” Eileen admitted. She ignored the teasing crack.

  They left the heavy wire and their food with the Woodleighs while they set up camp, and just carried a sample of the nails along to walk around and appraised all the trade offerings.

  After a quick walk through the seller’s sites without stopping at each table or tarp, it was apparent there wasn’t much girl’s or small women’s clothing. Color or even stains didn’t matter, but a hole did, and there wasn’t much without a snag or hole. One man had quite a bit of women’s clothing and shoes. He even had a couple pair of high heels. Eileen had to stifle a laugh at that.

  “Are these your wife’s things, Sam?” Vic asked, concerned.

  “Yes, Sally died over the winter. She got a fever that never went away. She never recovered from it at all. I’ve no idea what it was. It didn’t have any spots or bumps to it. I’d guess not particularly catching, since I never got it, closed in the house
with her. But if that’s a worry to you I can understand.”

  “My concerns were for you,” Vic said, “and accept my condolences please.”

  Sam just nodded deeply to acknowledge that. Eileen was so glad she hadn’t smiled much less laughed at the dead woman’s shoes, no matter how ridiculous they were now after The Day.

  Eileen looked at a few but all the shoes were size eight and a half. Even wearing double socks that wasn’t going to work for her, but there was a pair of crepe soled shoes in a FedEx bag that were size seven.

  “Those are brand new.” Sam said. “I have no idea why she didn’t wear them. Maybe they weren’t comfortable for her. The date on the bag says she bought them about three years ago.”

  “They’re much smaller than the others. I bet she got shipped the wrong size and for some reason never sent them back.” Eileen guessed.

  “I never noticed that. Are they your size?” Sam got right to the point.

  “They are indeed, but I wasn’t shopping for shoes,” Eileen insisted.

  “Up to you,” Sam shrugged, “but shoes wear out fast. We may be down to making moccasins and clogs before we start getting new in from outside.”

  “The man has a point,” Vic said. “You have to grab what you see sometimes instead of what you planned.”

  Sam ended up with the cartridges, two silver quarters and a piece of corn bread that was from his lunch that Vic hadn’t eaten.

  “Are you happy with that deal?” Eileen asked, after they were away. “Sam seems to drive a pretty hard bargain, and you didn’t argue much. Were you feeling a bit sorry for him over his wife?”

  “Yes, but that was also the best thing he had on his table,” Vic said. “If he didn’t get a good price for them he’d have felt bad about it, maybe even worked up a grudge and held it against us in the future. He’s right too, there won’t be any regular manufactured shoes to be had at any price in a year.”

  “And I think you saw how badly I wanted them,” Eileen said. “Thank you.”