There was another customer being helped when she got to the tailor shop, not getting fitted but looking at images of garments on a screen, and a few of Lindsey's drawings in the shop system. April took a stool at the big table and Frank brought her coffee without asking if she wanted it. That was an extravagance. She wondered how they were holding coffee so long after others ran out, and how she rated a cup. She'd have to find a way to make it up to them.
April found it interesting that Lindsey's drawings were digitalized just like the commercial patterns from Earth, so the customer could be shown different colors and trimmings. A few images were even 3D models so you could view them from all around, change things like the build of the model, and details like buttons and pleats.
The man picked a tunic style of top with a wide belt and pockets in front just under the belt with hidden zippers. He had loose trousers made to match with pockets on each side with horizontal openings, not slash. April thought it all very practical, but ugly, in a heathery grey.
When he turned around his eyes got big, and he said, "Oh, yes...That's what I want! A cape to match my outfit. He scrunched up his face looking at April's cape until he had creases between his eyebrows. April's cape was lined in scarlet so he considered what his should have.
"And line mine with cornflower blue, or something similar, but to the purple a little," he added.
Behind him Cindy looked dismayed. April wasn't sure why, but she was on Cindy's side.
"That might work," April told the man, "But a yellow would work much nicer with your eyes," she told the fellow, smiling sweetly. His eyes were a distinct brown even from a couple meters away.
"Do you think so?" the man asked. He smiled and was entirely too taken with the attention from April. To the point she was regretting she got involved. "As she said then," he told Cindy. "Whatever you have in a nice yellow will be fine. Do you need to remeasure anything to make a cape?"
"Not at all," Cindy assured him. "We have your shoulder and arm dimensions and length to waist. Everything we need. It requires some hand work on the details. So is next Wednesday OK?"
"Lovely! Drop me a message and I'll pick it up or send a courier for it," He promised, and made his exit quickly. From the look on Cindy's face it wasn't a minute too soon. Frank just looked amused.
"Bless you child. I don't have anything pale blue or violet, and it's impossible to get anything lifted quickly right now. At least anything that isn't a necessity."
"I was about to suggest a crème chiffon to compliment his wrinkly white butt," Frank said, "But on the whole April's suggestion was probably better."
"And you see why I deal with the customers instead of him," Cindy said.
"Then what does Frank do?" April asked.
"I do the books, make the coffee, and care for the cat," Frank said, defensively.
"You have a cat?" April said, looking around.
"We're going to get one," he assured her. "Someday."
"Lovely idea, it can claw runs in the silk," Cindy said.
"She doesn't like cats," Frank confided.
"I'm perfectly neutral," Cindy insisted. "Cats don't like me."
"I've never been around cats," April said, hoping to break the chain of conversation. "I was around a couple dogs on Earth, but they didn't impress me much. I preferred the bigger ones though."
"A hab is a lousy place for pets," Frank agreed. "No place to walk them and no place to play."
He looked at her mug. "Do you need a refill?"
"You have it to spare?" April asked. "I was surprised you're still holding coffee. I have some but I laid in a pretty good supply right before things went bad. I've been rationing it out."
"Frank saw it was coming to a cusp and ordered up a ton of stuff about two weeks before we lost lift. So much we had to rent storage. We bought lots and lots of cloth, but no pale purple," Cindy said, rolling her eyes. "I think a few of our customers have bought outfits just to come in and get a cup. The stuff in the cafeteria is awful," she said making a face. "Yet they still run out of it frequently."
"Well it used to be from liquid concentrate," April told them, "which wasn't too bad. Then Ruby saw people were bringing their own in a travel mug and the demand went down for the concentrate. So she bit the bullet and budgeted to buy beans. That lasted about two months before things went all to hell down below, and she had to fall back on freeze dried instant. Gunny assures me the instant is much better than about twenty years ago."
"You paid for your coffee deflecting Mr. Sweeney," Cindy told her. "What can we do for you?"
April waved at Lindsey. "She drew a figure in an architectural drawing, and I want a dress like the woman is wearing. Perhaps you'd help and the two of you can develop a pattern?"
Once Cindy had the image transferred to design software all three of them could look at it. There was room for Frank too, but he found other things in the shop to keep him busy.
The dress was basically divided in quarters down the middle and at the waist, with black and white panels.
"Just like you told Sweeney, these colors don't work for you," Cindy said.
"Really? Is there a shortage of black and white cloth too?" April asked.
"Not at all," Cindy insisted, giving Lindsey a dirty look for laughing. "But black and white in big panels is too hard on the eye for contrast. It works better in the drawing than real life. It looks good straight on and horrible from the side. It isn't good for your figure either. It works for a big blonde built like a Greek god, but sorry, Honey. That's not you."
"What would you suggest?" April asked.
"Instead of panels with a central seam, contrasting colors draped across from each side."
Lindsey made a few lines and shaded them, assigned colors and let the program work. It did look better, April had to admit. "But now below the waist doesn't work with it," April complained.
"No, You need something that continues the draping texture, but not mirroring the top or it's excessively symmetrical. That's fine for military uniforms, but not ladies evening wear," Cindy said.
"Continue the drape below the waist, but for one color only," Lindsey suggested. "Try the light and see how that looks."
"Interesting but still too plain," Cindy decided. Try making it arch contrary to the portion above the waist instead of sweeping around the hip."
"Umm...almost," Lindsey agreed. "It still needs something."
"Arch it the opposite way but then straighten it out and plunge straight to the hem," Cindy said.
They looked at it, and nobody said anything. It was dramatic, but lacked something.
"I think it's too obvious," Cindy said. "It's too much all the same. It looks like something designed for a department store ready-made line."
"Flare the pleats as it makes the down-turn and have the end open up into a quarter of the hem. From the front center to the left side," Lindsey suggested.
"That will be difficult to sew," Cindy said as the software worked to expand to the fan of pleats as Lindsey dragged the edges each way on the screen. "But yeah, that looks like something worth doing."
"How about making each pleat alternating colors," April suggested.
"It would be a horror to get it to hang right," Lindsey said.
"But sew it up separate and put it on top of the material underneath, to lend it structure," Cindy said.
"That raises it," Lindsey said, adjusting the form on the screen.
"I like it raised. I'd buy that," April told them.
"It looks good, but it still isn't your color," Cindy insisted. "Try gold and green."
"Wow," Lindsey said.
"It doesn't look like the same dress," April said.
"Well in honesty it's not. But I think it would work very well for you," Cindy said.
"I even have some jewelry I think will work with it," April said. "Some earrings my grandparents gave my brother, and a necklace he left me. Can you make that?"
"Certainly. It will take some time it's so co
mplex. Two weeks from today?" Cindy asked.
"Fine, I'd rather have it right than fast," April assured her.
* * *
"Our fellow is in Vancouver with a kit of components to build the tester," Chen reported. "They will board a trawler tonight and be on the tide before dawn." He copied the message to Jon and Jeff, and a separate copy to Tetsuo Santos.
* * *
"Don't worry about us," Jeff told Irwin, President of the Private Bank of Home. They had a business relationship, and at least a measure of friendship. The man still felt like he was betraying Jeff, and made a voice call to apologize, although no apology was really needed. His hand was being forced in the matter from Earth. He couldn't deal with Jeff and retain access to the Fed system.
"We've made new arrangements, and can still move funds sufficient to our customers' needs. We are doing more local banking than you anyway. I intend to shift my customers to Solars as much as possible, and Australian dollars when we can't. Nobody in their right mind holds depreciating EuroMarks an hour longer than necessary. We've always dealt with other currencies, but we don't hold them. We just sell them right off," Jeff explained, calmly.
"I'm liquidating USNA dollars as quietly as possible, and when we hold none I intend to make an announcement that we will no longer take payment in USNA dollars. If North American customers can't buy either of those other currencies we'll take gold in certifiable forms. But physical delivery only. I'd appreciate if you keep that confidential, although if you want to trade dollars in anticipation of it, I understand. That's why I'm telling you actually."
Irwin squinted at him, unbelieving. "You are implying...the dollar might dip from such an announcement?" he asked. He obviously had a hard time believing that.
"Could be," Jeff said, indifferently. "I won't care, because I won't be holding any soon."
"North America is one of the world's largest economies," Irwin argued. "Maybe the second again even, with China in turmoil. You can't trade enough dollars to shift trends, Jeff."
"Then you will feel perfectly safe in USNA dollars. Perhaps instead of my disposing of them by the convoluted process I intended, you should just buy them from me," Jeff suggested. "Surely the Private Bank has sufficient Aussie dollars to swap them for our dollars. Or if that's tight we'd take Yen or even Tongan Pa‘anga. Of course gold is always welcome."
"I...you..." Irwin shut his mouth and looked alarmed.
"North America might even be the world's biggest economy again," Jeff agreed. "Undoubtedly it is one of the four largest. But it's kind of hard to tell. Nobody really believes the public numbers for any of the Earth nations now. They've made so much secret it's hard to even guess. This year they added the sugar beets and soy beans harvests to corn on the list classified for national security."
"This is a dangerous game you're playing," Irwin accused Jeff. "If I start selling it will be public, and people will start sniffing around. No matter how discreet you are, somebody is going to see what you are doing. I bet you are selling through a chain of banks to hide the source of the money, aren't you? And that looks bad right there. People could conclude you're not doing it to avoid regulators, but to get it quietly dumped before some event. And the more hands it goes through the greater the chance some clerk is going to tell his uncle not to be caught holding too many dollars, and he'll tell a friend, and before you know it, the event the action intimated becomes reality."
"What you are describing is what they called a panic in a more honest age," Jeff said. "May I remind you they are kicking me out? I didn't initiate this. And can they reasonably say they won't clear dollar trades for me anymore and still expect me to hold dollars?" Jeff reasoned. "Let me ask you something though. Are you admitting confidence is so low, that one word in the wrong ear, one little bank in the tiniest nation, failing to hide that they are selling dollars, could do serious damage?"
"I don't think we're far from that, even in the best of times," Irwin said.
"Maybe not. Within our lifetimes anyway," Jeff qualified that statement. "You don't seem concerned North America will retaliate and sell Solars to drive the price down."
What could Irwin say? Nobody on Earth was selling gold unless they were desperate, and Solars weren't just redeemable, they had twenty five grams of gold encapsulated. If North America wanted to sell gold they'd have to sell a lot to drop the price in this market. If they really had any. That was as secret as everything else.
"The Private Bank has no way to sell dollars on any scale without reporting it. We have reporting obligations under the regulation we must follow to be in the Fed and Japanese systems. Perhaps it would be better for both of us, for everybody, if we did liquidate our dollars through you," Irwin suggested.
"That's a possibility," Jeff admitted. "However, using a chain of transfers, such as you guessed we will be doing, adds on fees. We were looking at paying about three and a half percent to convert our own holdings. But, as you say, it might damage us if you are seen selling too many dollars also. Let's say just enough of a fee to make sure I don't take a loss helping you. Say four percent?"
"That sounds like an equitable arrangement," Irwin said. After he terminated the call, he wondered how the purpose of his call had changed direction so completely.
* * *
"The trawler has a Coast Guard cutter shadowing it," the militia observer, Sam, told Li from orbit. "What do you want to do? I could drop a rod on him in about a half hour and it would come at him right out of the sun. It would arrive transonic and in the glare. He'd never see it with the sort of radar they use. At least he'd never see it in time to swerve and avoid it."
"They'd know what happened and the stink would attach to us forever," Li said. "He isn't following them on his own and nobody knows about it. They are micro-managed from the mainland now almost as bad as the Chinese. I'm not comfortable with the morals of a preemptive strike either. They really haven't done anything to warrant it."
"Maybe...It's up to you," Sam told him. "I wouldn't assume he has coms since so many satellites were killed. I don't think he's following them as a friendly escort. Just remember if you get into it with him you can't count on help in four or five minutes. That's best case. It can take as much as fifteen minutes from when I designate a rod to drop further back in orbit until it actually impacts. A lot can happen in fifteen minutes."
"I'm changing course to the North West unless you have a better suggestion. I don't intend to rendezvous with him while the Coastie is dogging him. He's a USNA flagged vessel and the Coastie has a valid interest. I'll check with you and see if he breaks off after we don't meet," Li decided.
"Why? You aren't smuggling and you don't have illicit drugs. You're not doing anything wrong."
"We do have an old M2, and some personal weapons. We have a laser on the mast and they can require us to go into port with them on some trumped up charges. I do not want to let armed men on my boat, and they will insist on sending a party over if we get stopped. We do have cargo and they'll insist on us docking and go over the whole thing. They'll look in every box of cargo, test anything bottled, Even open random samples of canned goods. They love to rip everything apart searching for secret compartments. No, I don't want to be forced into a North American port," Li insisted. "Why now? They never bothered us before."
"It's still obvious you have nothing before you on this course but North American and this trawler. He isn't going to buy that you are on a pleasure cruise of the North Pacific or intended to divert to Russia all along," Sam said.
"Does the trawler know he's behind them?" Li asked.
"I told him before you," Sam said. "He's low and stealthy and they can't see him on their radar. They probably have active electronic warfare capacity too."
"What did he say?"
"He said nothing he has aboard is prohibited, and if they ask he'll inform them they have two passengers for transfer to Home, and they can't interfere with them traveling to Home by treaty. He insists he's going to hold station at the
agreed transfer point until you meet him, or he runs low on fuel and supplies."
"That kind of puts us on the spot," Li said. "If they stop the Coasties will just board him and demand he turn back with them. So we'll fail at the pickup still, just a different way. They aren't going to honor the treaty terms, you know that. How can they prove they are in transit to Home? They hardly have a shuttle ticket, so the Coast Guard isn't going to buy that for a second. It's even harder for them to argue because they are USNA flagged so they are his concern. They can board them or take them into port for a safety inspection even if they aren't accused of a crime."
"Not my circus, not my monkeys," Sam said. "I'd sink him for stalking me if I was down there."
"OK, I'm going to rendezvous with them and get our guys. But I'm not going to let them board me. If you see us both turn to the coast and he's forcing us toward USNA territorial waters then you may put a rod in him," Li decided.
"I'll be listening," Sam promised. "You don't have to make a speech of it. Just say 'rod-now' and I'll have one on the way. That will save you a few seconds."
* * *
"Jon, we need you in the cafeteria as soon as possible," Wanda informed him on com.
"Coming," Jon assured her. "Do I need backup? Do you have an ongoing situation?"
"We have an accidental discharge, one injury, property damage and a resulting argument which may progress into something worse, because they are getting pretty loud arguing," Wanda said. "I already called EMS for the fellow shot. He doesn't look to be in any danger."
"Tell them I'm on the way, that may cool some tempers," Jon told her. It cost him the advantage of showing up unexpected, but he doubted anybody would set up an ambush if there weren't more serious crimes than what Wanda described.
"Margaret! Grab a riot gun and follow me. Situation in the cafeteria, and I want you to stand back and cover me," Jon said, not slowing a bit as he hit the corridor. Jon was walking fast, but didn't get far before Margaret's footsteps behind him confirmed she was catching up quickly.
They Said It Would Be Easy (April Book 7) Page 7