"I fear Lloyd's may not be so amused," his XO said.
"No, no, there are exclusions," their com man with commercial experience told them. "Lloyd's has been around long enough acts of war and piracy are excluded, no matter how they choose to classify our actions."
The flight deck of the Allentown came back on video link. "Bart, did you by any chance inquire yet what they are here to pick up?" Gordon asked.
"Yes, Several ton of indium, a great deal of mercury in individual casks instead of bulk, a good bit of erbium and oddly enough, an impressive quantity of emeralds in the rough. Those are not on the official manifest, but she confessed what they were when I started opening the unmarked crate."
"That isn't listed on the web as an export," Gordon said surprised.
"The emeralds are from the beryllium miners," the Loadmaster informed him around his man's shoulder. "They gave up trying to stop the miners from grabbing the really nice specimens when they would see them in the ore. It became a safety issue because they would do crazy things, take chances to recover them when it was forbidden, like getting off the digger while it is still running. A few got sucked into the crusher. Now they ignore it, as long as an operator doesn't stop digging more than once or twice a shift to grab a crystal."
"Why doesn't the company exploit them?" his XO asked.
"They claim the loss in beryllium ore production costs more than they can recover from the stones. When they tried doing it commercially the stones almost all seemed to be of inferior quality," she said, coyly pressing a finger to the side of her nose in the British manner.
"A few ships like us buy them cash and this world has very little turn over despite being a hardship post. It's a little 'perk' that makes working here worthwhile. Even the administrators get in on it, because they use the stones like a local currency. I was to go down on leave in three watches and I usually have enough cash to buy a few. But nothing like the ship buys and I don't have a ship share. That's what our officers have been doing below; they set up a buying room at the hotel and people bring stones."
"Well, I can see our crew shares are going to be very rich from this," Gordon said.
"Crew gets a share of the loot?" The Engineer had been silent until then, but was suddenly interested. "Do you by any chance need an Engineer Second Class? I'm Indonesian and I speak Bahasa, English and French and can work environmental and galley as well," he offered hopefully.
* * *
Special Agent Harrigan Hershey stood at the records counter of the Family Assistance offices, in the Juvenile Court. There was an imposingly large woman behind it, with deep green frizzy hair worn in the helmet of a natural Afro, to match her piercing eyes. That was doubly shocking because she appeared to be a white woman. Pasty white even. She was leaning forward aggressively on her elbows and was still taller than him.
The tattoo of a multi-colored snake curled around her muscular forearm. He followed it down with his eyes until it terminated in an open fanged mouth on the back of her hand just behind her knuckles. A banner arch of fancy letters under its chin read – VIPER. He was jolted again. She had man hands. He'd been in LA for almost two years and there was still too much Iowa clinging to him.
"Ms. Gomez," he nodded politely, reading her name tag. "I have a national security letter requiring your agency to provide us with the name of the family and location to which the young woman named Lee Anderson was fostered by judge Morse," he informed her. He laid the letter out on the countertop with his badge wallet folded open as a paper weight.
"Thas nice, honey, but this here is records for a California court, not Federal. I give you anything without the orders of the judge on the case and I just flushed my job down the toilet. Do I look that stupid to you?" she asked critically.
"No ma'am," he said truthfully. Scary as hell and tougher than my boss, he thought, but those green eyes were shrewd as could be. "Could you direct me to the court, please?"
"Judge Morse doesn't sit on Wednesdays," she informed him. "I'll write down his address for you, if you want to go bother him at home," she said scribbling already, "but he may just tell you to get an appointment through his clerk. I'll tell you the same as those wanting him to sign a warrant – the earlier you get over there, the more of a chance you stand," she looked over her shoulder to check the clock, profiling her Adam's apple for him, "before he gets too deep in the bottle," she said illustrating it with a glass tipping pantomime. "And if you take him a bottle he drinks Ardmore, not any cheap crap."
"Thank you," he said, taking the sticky note she peeled off the pad. Was she really intimating they should take a bottle of liquor to a judge? He didn't even know what Ardmore was. He'd try the easy route first, but if the judge didn't cooperate, he'd be back here this afternoon with about twenty agents and a computer expert. He called his driver to stop orbiting the block and pick them up at the entry.
* * *
They went south over the Mackinac bridge. "This used to be open when I was a boy," John told her. "Just a railing on the edge and you could see the Straights pretty good. But over the years a few small cars blew off in really terrible weather and there were a couple wrecks when trucks tipped over on their side. I remember when it was very stormy, my dad driving across behind a state lead vehicle going at just a crawl. Now the new highway safety standards require an enclosure. You can't see out for anything." The enclose was a heavy wire mesh that barely left any holes. Tight enough to eliminate most of the wind. And barely allowing any illumination either. "They had a few jumpers and it stopped that too."
"Jumpers?"
"Folks who had trouble or mentally ill, suicides. It's a couple hundred feet to the water. You might as well be hitting concrete from this high up."
Lee felt queasy thinking about that and didn't ask any more.
On the south side of the bridge an officer waved them to the side behind several other vehicles. The car angled across the shoulder said Michigan State Police. "Open your trunk please." He told John. The please didn't disguise the fact from Lee it wasn't optional. Lee watched out the back window, through the crack at the bottom of the raised trunk lid. John was relaxed and joking instead of angry. She watched him hand the policeman a small flat bottle of honey, which he slid in a pocket. If he was supposed to take it, he wouldn't have hid it so smoothly, she figured out.
John got off at the next exit and drove west, until they reached a narrow two lane road. It just had a county number designation. He turned south again on that. The car appeared to have no navigation and he didn't look at a map. He seemed to just know the roads.
"He extorted some of your honey from you didn't he?" Lee asked.
"Oh my, extortion is such an ugly word for a young girl to know. He took a little extra bridge toll. I offered it, he didn't ask for it. They got you there, because there is no other way across the Straights. But that's why I'm off on a secondary road now. Every county and village all the way down south patrols the section of highway that goes through them. They look for anything they can ticket, or take in forfeiture. By the time I got down to my mom's house I wouldn't have a blessed bottle left."
After they drove another hour or so he cut back to the highway. They bought sandwiches and used the restrooms where they were clustered around an exit. But when they left he returned to the county roads.
Chapter 41
When the Retribution returned to Derfhome they jumped short and coasted into the system silently. They had arranged for a signal to be broadcast at regular intervals that seemed innocent, but was a warning if there was a USNA presence in the system. If the message indicated it was a force bigger than they could fight, they would run almost straight through the system and jump for Thorn. The Allentown was manned by a short prize crew, in an uninhabited system with only a number not a name waiting for their return, lurking among the moons and rings of a gas giant. Likely it would go to Fargone to sell at least some of the cargo and have certain extras installed an honest freighter didn't need.
Stanley sent a lo
ng message, that explained the ethics of his profession kept him from being involved in a technically illegal act, like snatching Lee and removing her from court ordered custody. However he vowed to continue to pursue every legal action to free her. He explained Blackwater was again hired to watch over Lee and report to him. And repeated he'd requested they give whatever protection was possible.
The obvious conclusion was he would have to suggest a snatch, if opportunity presented, to Blackwater himself. Stanley wasn't going to pass that instruction on. He'd wasted a couple weeks, unaware of the ethical limitation. He prepared a fast drone message to Blackwater, telling them what he had in mind and suggesting strongly Stanley would not want to know if they did so and should be totally insulated from having anything to do with it for his professional protection.
The Mothers declared his capture valid sight unseen, based on documents and were delighted with the probable clan share of the Allentown. Then they surprised him by instructing him to sell the cargo in Fargone and use their cargo shares to buy out the crew shares on the ship itself. That was within their rights as sponsor.
Their share of the emeralds they kept however as Derf particularly valued them. The clan was now an interstellar trade house with a ship. The Allentown became Red Metal.
Gordon was given first pick for the Captain's share of the emeralds. He planned to have an earring made that would leave spacers with their mouths hanging open.
* * *
It was late in the day when they finally got to John's mother's house. It was in a quiet older part of Lapeer, maybe a third of the way into the greater city. There were more trees than she expected. She assumed they were to stay with relatives because they couldn't afford a hotel, but after his mother was so pleased to see them she wasn't sure they didn't just want to visit, rather than from necessity.
Mrs. Williamson was fatter than any person she'd seen up close. She was padded around the middle where her waist should have been. She also hugged Lee in greeting just like she did her granddaughter. Before she was done everybody got hugged.
The house was full of the smell of food, but strange unfamiliar food and they hadn't eaten since midday. Lee was relieved when they were invited to the table. The places were already set and Mrs. Williamson carried in Chicken Paprikash, little firm egg dumplings, green beans, hot rolls and butter and relishes. She stuffed herself which seemed to please the cook. She'd never had anything on the table but green beans and these were better than any green beans she'd ever had. They were bright green, firm and lightly oiled and had tiny slivers of nut on them.
Desert was an apple cake, full of spice and coffee. Mrs. Williamson asked if she'd rather tea with it, but she made clear she loved coffee. Clare displayed the tip of her tongue through tight lips, to show what she thought of coffee.
After dinner everyone helped bring in the honey, transferring them to shopping bags and leaving the wooden case in the trunk. They were in all sizes and shapes of bottles, all clear glass and none more than about a liter. Apparently Mrs. Williamson oversaw the local distribution.
She washed her socks and underpants in the sink before going to bed, squeezed them dry and folded them in her bath towel, before pressing them thoroughly under her heels. They would be dry by morning. Mrs. Williamson never offered her a given name and seemed fine with being addressed full form, so she decided it was smarter to not ask if that was usual. It must be and she'd just look silly to ask.
* * *
The Retribution dumped back into Survey System 2517. It had no named inner planets, but the huge dominating gas giant was named 'Goliath'. It would be an ideal fuel mining planet, but there wasn't anything else yet found in the star system to need a fueling station. The Red Metal was by Goliath on the far side of their entry, so they didn't bleed off any speed, wanting a quick transit near the star and would brake going away from it on the other side. Once they skimmed the fringes of the star there was the distinct signature of a human vessel coming around the star from the other side, searching aggressively with radar. They seemed to be doing a tight transit almost at right angles. They sighted it before it saw the Red Metal.
"Wow, Noisy!" Thor marveled. "They are kicking the bushes hoping to flush something. How long before they paint us with that radar?"
"They are a bit over three light minutes out," Navigation responded, but we are within two degrees of the stellar disk from their view and not radiating. This is a noisy star. We may get within a light minute before they see us."
"How great a vector angle can we generate before they would see the side scatter from our drive?" Gordon asked.
"They'd see us at any power from our entire rear hemisphere if we brake," Engineering assured him. "Even aimed off fifty degrees."
"No, I mean, how far off can we tilt our drive from full-astern before they see us?"
"Oh! Accelerating towards them?" The engineer keyed queries into the computer rapidly. "If you have no more than a thirty-eight degree bias from his line of sight, he should never see our drive scatter against the star at two G. That gives us a lateral acceleration back in front of the stellar disk of point six G and a closing acceleration toward him of about one point one-five at this distance. He's running to jump, so add his closing acceleration which will help us get back in front of the star." He keyed in some more numbers. "We would cross back over in front of the face of the star in a bit over twenty minutes. Then we reverse the thrust angle at the thirty minute mark to track his forward vector and his motion keeps us in front of the disk. We can up acceleration then if you wish. Theoretical time to literal intercept at two G, twelve hours."
"Make it so," Gordon ordered. "I can see he's military, but what is he?" Gordon asked.
"Radar emissions indicate a Raytheon high powered multi focusing lensed array. Those systems can form four Gigajoule pulses under a microsecond in length. It takes a long charge up to do that of course. USNA, European and Australian Confederation ships all use variations. But on nothing bigger than a destroyer. Our system is about twenty times as big because we have more hull to mount elements and we have the second reactor to feed 'em."
"So, we outgun him again. I'm getting spoiled. We're going to eventually run into a big assed heavy battle platform and have to run you know."
"I'll take the practice and be grateful for it until that happens," Thor said. "We didn't stand and slug it out with the St. Louis either, so let's use our heads again. But I'd love to capture another warship instead of blowing it to plasma."
"Ask third watch crew to relieve us in fifteen minutes. We will take a six hour break to have a meal, nap if any are able and come back refreshed to make contact. Any brilliant ideas on how to take this ship will be entertained. We are crossing each other with too much velocity to turn and match him before he could run to jump. If I hear any suggestion worth using that hand will get a double share of any prize."
* * *
Mrs. Williamson was pleased when she offered to help with breakfast. Lee knew how to scramble eggs. She had just never seen eggs in the shell. Well, not chicken eggs. She got the hang of breaking them after three or four. She whisked them and Mrs. Williamson instructed her to add some water. "It makes them fluffier, dear." Lee stopped with her hand on the valve lever and asked, "Is this potable water?"
"Yes dear, you can assume tap water is safe in any big city in the USNA."
"I'm fostered to my cousin. I was starting to think nobody cooked from scratch."
"They're on the dole aren't they, dear?"
"The negative tax, yeah. They just reheat stuff."
"The government subsidizes food for the negatives," she explained. "They could buy groceries off the card but it would be market price and they'd be hard pressed to make ends meet that way. Do you recall if they have a regular oven?" she said, pointing to hers.
"No, they have two microwaves and a two burner electric range in the counter top. They don't have many pots or other kitchen things either."
"If negative income peo
ple have too many options or cash, it's far too easy for them to buy black market goods and bypass the government controlled systems. Whenever you see something that doesn't make sense otherwise, figure control is probably the real answer."
"Thank you, Earth is strange," she admitted.
"John hasn't discussed where you are from. If it isn't something I should know be cautious dear. I could tell you weren't from Michigan."
The eggs were OK, but Mrs. Williamson's biscuits were outstanding.
* * *
Office of Naval Intelligence was what the ID said. They all four had a badge too, but more importantly they all had guns, so the condo tower doorman sent them up to the sixteenth floor to see the judge. He had a Taser and a permit to have it on the job site, but he didn't argue with folks carrying real guns.
Judge Morse wasn't as impressed with the badges or the guns. The team leader said they needed information on a custody case. "That would be neither a military, nor a Federal matter," he informed them. He said Federal like it was a bad taste in his mouth. He looked much thinner and frailer than he had even as recently as Lee's trial. The damn cancer was killing him and the pills didn't do shit for the pain anymore. He was about to pour himself a breakfast nip to help the pills and he didn't appreciate being delayed.
He tried to slam the door in their faces, but the lead officer blocked it with his foot and put his shoulder to it. Morse was astonished at the audacity of the offense to his office and person, when he pushed inside and took a much more aggressive grip on his weapon.
"You look one thing up for us on your computer and we'll be gone. Nobody has to ever know. This won't have happened as far as we are concerned. Lead on," he ordered, gesturing with the muzzle of his weapon.
The judge took them to a tasteful study, with an antique desk backed up to big windows. He went around and seated himself, logging on the computer.
"What's so all-fired important you need to know?"
"The girl, Lee Anderson, you fostered out. Who was she sent to and what is the address?"
Family Law Page 36