"I'm...not sure how they do that," Poincaré admitted. "I don't know if anyone has their own sealed off environmental systems."
"I bet they made rules against it, if you go research it. At Armstrong you couldn't even own a suit, much less your own air plant. They wanted control of everything so they couldn't become independent. If they wanted to ship you back to the Slum Ball they didn't want any argument."
"We are trying to come to an agreement with the provisional committee in Armstrong also," Poincaré said. "It may be some time before we finalize anything. Every proposal made is taken to debate, and seems to generate more questions rather than any quick agreement. Although you are physically on the other side of Armstrong from us, we may be actually cooperating with you sooner. Simply because we can have this conversation with one person who has the power to decide yes or no. No such executive exists in Armstrong yet."
"Are you able to bind your new government to agreements?" Heather asked, pointedly. She decided it was not the time to mention that she had recognized the Lunar Republic. Perhaps the new republic valued Central's, that is Heather's, recognition more than Marseille's.
"Nobody exists at the moment to contradict me," Poincaré said with a smile. "That will hold at least until we have elections, and then establish various agencies."
"So somebody may undo everything we establish in a year," Heather said.
Poincaré shrugged. "You risk that dealing with any sovereign entity," he said. "You may be dead tomorrow and I'll have wasted all my words today. Whatever we establish between us has at least the advantage of momentum. It's easier left in place than altered if leadership does change. If we worry about its impermanence we'll never do anything. The pyramids would never have been built, because someone might stop them half way and tear them down."
"Your point is well taken," Heather said. "You are welcome to do business here. There are no entry documents, no licenses to do business. The law is what I say it is. If I find somebody objectionable they get expelled. We are developing a body of law, but the less complicated it becomes the better as far as I am concerned. People are encouraged to come to their own agreements. If they require their sovereign to sit in judgment they don't always like the results. Better to compromise at times than lose utterly."
"We shall retain the French judicial system, and diverge from it only slowly I suspect. What is the basis of your decisions?" Poincaré asked.
"I'm from Home," Heather reminded him. "I'm heavily exposed to North American influences, but you should look to the base principles rather than recent history. Think of the direction English common law took. The sanctity of contracts, individual rights and responsibility. I've judged cases on homicide, intellectual property rights and drunk driving already. The trials are all public record if you want to get a feel for how I ruled, and perhaps more importantly what questions I asked and how I reasoned."
"I'm trying to imagine how you can function without a body of law defining what is permissible. And meanwhile assembling it piece by piece," Poincaré said, looking distressed.
"People have very similar ideas about whether basic things are right or wrong," Heather said. "The law formalizes it. But I have yet to find anyone astonished they can't just kill whomever they please. We have very few people of non-western cultures to complicate public opinion. Weren't all the formal bodies of law originally assembled just that way? Piece by piece, case by case?"
Poincaré blinked and considered that, but made no reply. Instead he asked, "How might a lawyer of French training be certified to speak before your court?"
"There is no bar between the people and the officers of the court," Heather said, drawing a line with her hand. "Anyone may show up and ask for a judgment. If you wish to hire someone to speak for you or advise you that is fine. Some people are not eloquent. Some people are fearful of speaking in public. And a lot of people need third party advice on whether they are being damn fools to even bring a case. If they have to pay for counsel perhaps they will listen to it better than free."
Poincaré laughed. "I'd heard similar things said," he agreed. "One's passion on a question is not a good indicator of how others will see it. Sometimes that needs pointed out in a way friends and relatives are loath to say."
"I mentioned we have a scientist from Armstrong who is considering emigrating to you. But things have changed. First of all we were able to get his equipment released to him. Also he'll have to be advised the political situation there is changed. He may still rather work with your people than in isolation. I'm not of a mind to influence him one way or another. He's well worth having, but a bit of a short term expense too. For all I care he can go back and forth freely to work here, as I've gifted him with land, or work with his peers there."
"There will be security concerns if they are working on proprietary things," Poincaré worried.
"That's your concern," Heather said. "Whether you can trust him, or your own people for that matter, to isolate their projects which have to be kept secret. It's true, people with such creative talents don't always seem to have a security-based focus. I'll tell you right up front we want your process for creating a thin effective body armor. But we're willing to buy it not steal it. You need to discuss all that with your technical people," Heather suggested.
"I will, and assign someone to research your legal history and provide me a summary. I simply don't have time for such a project. When I have some answers, and undoubtedly some more questions, I'll get back to you," Poincaré promised.
"That sounds good to me." Heather said, disconnected and looked around. Dakota had quietly let herself out sometime during the long conversation, without a word. And her breakfast dishes were empty, but she couldn't remember taking a bite. She'd been running on full autopilot.
Chapter 15
"We have a ship for you," Myat assured Jeff.
He was so skeptical from the previous offer he just lifted an eyebrow silently.
"Don't be that way," Myat said, to the dubious look. "This is a much better deal, and you didn't get burned by the last one. I did withdraw it before you actually turned it down," she reminded him.
"But only because we stubbornly delayed while you were rushing us to accept," Jeff thought, but he didn't say it out loud. She was well aware..."There's no urgency about this one?" he asked, which was somewhat milder a response than his real thoughts.
"Look, Huian made me present this offer directly instead of through her. I won't do anything again to make her doubt my judgment. I'd like to regain her trust until she'll broker my deals again. There's no urgency, as far as the offer being open. The ship is anchored in Singapore harbor so it isn't running up dock fees, and they have waived anchorage fees, but it's a security concern. The owners are bankrupt and it is an uninsured vessel. The crew was mostly Nigerian and abandoned it when they hadn't been paid for some time, and the ship was running low on stores. The local court has asserted not just a lien, but forfeiture for public safety, and is asking, begging, for anyone wishing to lay claim to it. They don't want to lift the accommodation stairs that took the crew off. If they need to board a pilot quickly they don't want to drop him from an aircar or helicopter. So the harbor master has two security guys, in two shifts, mooring to the end of the ship's ladder guarding it, and one climbs to the deck and does a circuit once a shift."
"So, there are fees adding up for anybody who claims it or offers a deal?" Jeff asked.
"Supposedly five thousand Singapore dollars a day," Myat said, "but they aren't really spending that. They are using a couple of cops who are pulled off something else, and fuel for the pilot boat twice a day."
"What are Singapore dollars running now?" Jeff demanded.
"They insist they're on a par with Australia, so there's almost no official exchange. But the black market rate is running three of their dollars to one Australian. If you just offer to take it off their hands they might refuse because it looks bad. But offer them anything cash and I'd be surprised if they turn y
ou down," Myat insisted. "They don't want others abandoning ships there, and that's a danger."
"What sort of ship?" Jeff asked.
"Bulk carrier, gearless, that is, no cranes and crap cluttering the deck you'd have to remove. It was designed to haul grain and the machinery to unload it is dedicated and installed on the docks. It's three years old. I was told it hasn't been stripped or looted by the crew, and the com gear is still hot and running from solar power. I can give you links to look around the ship with its own security cameras if you want," Myat offered.
"What other costs?" Jeff demanded, knowing there would be more.
"The same as before...eventual entry to Home for my ship breaker friend as a finder fee, if it gets too nasty for him and his family on Earth. And he'll need to cover pay and a percentage if you want him to raise a crew to move the vessel," Myat said.
"I can agree to help him with that, but not in the next week or even month. We should have someplace to put them in about year. What about you? Don't you want a fee or passage to Home?" Jeff asked. Surely she wanted something.
"If I decide to come up I can pay my own way," Myat assured him. "I don't anticipate that happening for some time, years if not a decade or two. I'll do this deal to facilitate everything else our house is doing with you through Huian. I owe her. Also, we can't keep dropping stuff with reentry vehicles and picking them up in drop zones. Somebody is going to wise up and stop it."
"Not to mention the expense," Jeff agreed. "We are still interested in a ship, so send me the files on this one, the link to the security cameras, and I'll show it to my partners and get back to you quickly. The fewer days it sits there running up charges the better the chance that they'll accept an offer."
"OK, attaching that right now. Thanks for hearing me out," Myat said, and disconnected.
Jeff made sure where that was saved and thought about it. If it looked as good as she said he might start low...offer fifty thousand Singapore dollars, and present it as a done deal to his investors if he could buy it outright with his own funds. Then all they'd have to cover was the modifications to run it off one of his fusion generators, and the things like landing pads on the deck. First he better call Li and see what he could arrange for crew, if he wanted to buy it. He'd prefer Australians, and had little desire to hire back crew who had abandoned the ship. There might be lingering resentment and feelings they were still owed back pay, and he was trying to get closer ties with Australia.
He checked the time to see if Li would be sleeping and put a call in direct to his boat.
* * *
"Heather, Masseur Poincaré is on com again, wanting to speak with you. He wasn't willing to discuss what the call is about with me," Dakota said, obviously put out at that.
"That's fine. If he becomes a nuisance calling too often I'm not shy to tell him," Heather said, "but I have time to chat a bit."
The problem, oddly, was he didn't want to tell Heather what the call was about either.
"I'd like you to send someone you trust to be shown...something of importance," Poincaré requested. He gave every indication with his voice and body language that it was important, but refused to reveal it on com.
"Is it an emergency?" Heather asked.
"No...but it's time sensitive. I want to clean up the site after your representative views it," he insisted mysteriously.
"I'm short on people," Heather told him quite honestly. "I'm reluctant to send my peer Dakota you just spoke to. She's busy with a lot of critical projects for me. And there are very few people I feel free to send who can act with authority and speak with my voice."
"Ah, I see what you are saying, but we don't need that. This isn't a negotiation. We don't need a representative, just...well, a witness. Someone you trust as an observer who will be discreet."
"Oh...Then it doesn't even have to be someone sworn to me," Heather decided. "I have a man I trust to be observant, and he's used to working in a suit, so I can have him there on an open hopper in a couple hours. Does that satisfy you?"
"Thank you, yes, he can take some video or stills and show you the matter on his return. I'm really not comfortable discussing the matter or sending images through the satellites."
"Whatever," Heather said, a bit dismissively. She really didn't enjoy all the intrigue, and suspected it was overblown. No way was she going to yank somebody doing vital work for these sort of games. She probably could have hidden her feelings better. "I'll have him lifting within a half hour," she promised and disconnected before he could drag it on.
"Dakota, is that Kurt fellow, Bowman, still doing odds and ends before he goes back outside on the printer project?" Heather asked.
"Yes...I happen to know he's working on the fungus tanks today," Dakota said, and frowned.
"Oh come on, he's pretty smart and doing a pretty fair job at everything he's been asked to do. I can't see him deliberately working against our interests even if he isn't sworn to me. Is it the killing thing?" Heather demanded.
"Damn right. He scares the...he scares me," Dakota admitted. "You saw the same video I did. That creep never knew what hit him. Kurt's not gene mod to be faster and he still had the man mortally wounded before he could lift his hands off the table. All the rest of the attack was just mindless frenzy," Dakota said, and shuddered visibly at the memory.
"Yeah, probably," Heather agreed looking thoughtful. "I'd thought before he might have been savable if Kurt hadn't gone at his neck and opened the artery up, but you know, on thinking about it further I think you're right. With the fork through his larynx it would have swollen and suffocated him before anybody could have done a trach' on him."
Dakota felt her throat with one hand and looked sick. Heather's calm discussion wasn't helping her at all. Heather thought she could jolly her along with sick humor, but saw it was beyond making that work, and she better stop.
"But as you say...Greg King was a creep. If you think about it, if Kurt had called security on the spot to tell us the man was a USNA agent, I'd have probably ended up executing him myself. Not as spectacularly, but still, I wouldn't have relished the chore," Heather allowed.
"Yeah, I guess it's all the same," Dakota allowed. "But I'm still scared of him."
"And your feelings are perfectly valid," Heather agreed. "I don't expect you to ever be best buddies with him, and I'd never force you to work together."
Dakota looked relieved at that.
"On the other hand, you aren't really expecting him to run amuck and do it again are you?"
Dakota looked perplexed at that and frowned. "No, I can't actually say I do. On an intellectual level I don't see risk there. But emotionally I'm still not comfortable."
"Well I'd like you to call him off the tanks and I'll instruct him and send him to see what has Poincaré in a tizzy. If you want to be elsewhere so you don't have to see his ugly face feel free to bug out. I just want to make clear to him he isn't a representative, just an observer."
"I think I can handle that," Dakota agreed, "as long as I don't have to get all chummy."
"Heavens no, you can stand back and protect me," Heather allowed.
Dakota smiled, but it was a very brittle smile.
* * *
"How would you feel about forming an off Earth banking association?" Jeff asked, after the waiter took their dishes away.
Irwin considered it very solemnly. Jeff didn't rush him to answer. It was a new idea for the man. And Irwin was very conservative. Change wasn't something he embraced easily. He was also on his third beer, so that might slow down his processing the idea.
Irwin finished the last of the bock and burped. He lifted his head slightly to catch his eye, and then tapped the empty glass for the waiter, who immediately nodded to indicate he'd fetch another.
It was the first beer they'd had in some months, strong doppelbock, although Australian not German. It cost $200 Australian a half liter glass, and Irwin seemed determined to drink all of it at a sitting. An impossible task for this evening, ev
en though there were several other patrons in the Fox and Hare helping him valiantly. Jeff knew he'd lifted six kegs, three of this stuff, and three of a nice pilsner.
Jeff was nursing his second, and happy he'd had a good supper to buffer it, which had also been mostly imported items, and thus just as dear. He felt a little buzzed already at a beer and a half, and had no desire to be hung over in the morning.
"Will we have monthly meetings?" Irwin asked. Surprisingly he didn't sound slurred at all. But then he easily massed twice what Jeff did to absorb it.
"I suppose so," Jeff agreed. He'd have agreed to most anything not too crazy at the moment to jolly Irwin along. "The hope would be, that since we're the only real off Earth bankers right now, the others will join us when they set up shop. It seems better to get ahead of it before somebody else gets the same idea and acts before us. Even if we don't have much to do at first, since we've always cooperated."
Irwin frowned and leaned over, peering around the edge of their high backed banquette to see who was seated next door. Jeff couldn't imagine anyone would be interested in spying on them about banking. If they were there were better ways than eavesdropping in a nightclub.
"Eventually we'll have an Earth bank brave enough to open a branch without the protections of being a corporation. There's too much money flowing this way for them not to. They might like to be in a trade association, especially in such a different environment. We can offer them advice on how to deal with the Assembly and the different culture. We should think carefully ahead of time how we'd treat such a hybrid creature," Irwin warned.
Jeff was amazed how lucid Irwin was. The man was racing ahead and thinking of things that hadn't occurred to him already despite the strong beer.
April 8: It's Always Something Page 20