April 2: Down to Earth

by Mackey Chandler

  Cheesy's economic analysis was so similar to what her business savvy brother was telling her, that she wondered again about his background. When she first came here, he wore a checkered cloth wound around his head Middle Eastern style. When she asked where he was from, he just said Persia. Last time she looked Persia wasn't on any maps, unless they were in history books. The headgear had switched one day with a baseball cap, that said "Larkin's Lunar Lines" in hot pink on gray, with a stylized rocket ship and moon. She didn't know if it was a gift, or if some crewman left it behind when he ate.

  "Why don't we each kick in a trillion EM and get the ball rolling?" she suggested. April didn't have a trillion EuroMarks, anymore than he did, but if he knew how much closer she was than him, it would have shocked him.

  He smiled back at her real big, "Will you take my check?"

  "You bandit. You don't even know how many zeros to write for a trillion do you?"

  "Hey, if you have to count zeros, you can't afford it."

  April couldn't figure out if that was a misquote, or if he had coined a whole new saying.

  It was no surprise, to see two young fellows in French military flight coveralls, with their flag and rank markings came in after April and sit, politely leaving a stool between them and her. They wore the sort of one piece padded garment crews in a big ship used in peace time. Too bulky to comfortably use as a suit liner, except in an emergency. But thick enough to pad against bumps in a crowded zero G environment and warm enough to allow running a cool ship. The crew of the Happy Lewis however, always wore p-suits when they left dock. Their cabin was so small a leak could drop them below breathable pressure in seconds. The nearest Frenchman hit the stool like a bird landing on a fence post, but the other was an obvious newbie. He grasped the rim of the seat, struggling to wrap his feet around the toe bars like his buddy, but floating away. His friend grabbed a pinch of fabric at the small of his back and hauled him down firmly. After studying how the other held on a bit he soon copied the technique. When he looked over and saw the bare laser pistol holstered on April, cross draw style, he was so startled he almost floated away again.

  "Mon dieu. Est-cela permis?" he inquired, in hushed tones of his friend.

  The experienced one laughed and leaned back to clear the space between April and his friend. "Say hello to my new crewman Paul for me, so he can tell his family how he met a real live pirate from Home and lived to tell the tale. If I may introduce myself also, I am John."

  "Now be nice Monsieur. We did carry letters of marque and reprisal in the war, but we have this nice treaty with the North Americans now, so they get to keep New Las Vegas today, instead of it being my prize. But that doesn't mean I'm going to walk around their territory naked either," she assured him, laying her hand flat over her weapon to make clear what she meant.

  The newbie looked at her gesture, but his eyes continued up from there and he was noting with approval her snug black outfit. She was just starting to get a little bit of a figure and she was as sleek as a cat in the outfit and knew it. A North American would have been ashamed or at least wary to inspect someone as young as April, indeed North America was so prudish now, that you could get arrested and interrogated for just a lingering look in a public place. She would have been offended soon at the inspection, if he hadn't had the grace to look away and actually blush when his eyes reached hers and he found himself caught out.

  "Citizens of Home have rights of free passage and are entitled to follow their own law and custom transversing USNA territory," she explained. "That and a few other small things were imposed in the terms of their surrender. For example, my cargo being loaded has been declared to Customs, so they know what's on board if we have a fire or something. The emergency crews would know if there were any hazardous materials. That serves everyone. But they can't impose tariffs, or tell me I can't take anything through. Just a few small privileges, someone else might not have."

  "So the gun?" the newbie hesitated, struggling to phrase his question politely.

  "It's my privilege and custom on Home, so it's the same crossing NA territory. Our law supersedes theirs where Home citizens are involved. It's not really a firearm either, it's a laser. Here, take a look."

  He took it gingerly and had been in zero G long enough that he wiggled it back and forth to gauge its mass.

  "Wow. It's really light."

  "Yup, but it's a half gram lighter when you shoot out the power pack."

  He thought about that a minute and offered it back by the stubby barrel. "I'd hate to have an accident, better take it back."

  "Oh, you can't fire it. Give it a try."

  He looked dubiously at her and asked Cheesy, "What's behind the bulkhead there?" pointing at the surface behind the grill.

  "All the vastness of space, unless the damn moon is in the way again."

  Satisfied, he pointed it at the wall and squeezed the trigger. A tinny little voice said, "You are not an authorized user. If you persist this device will self-destruct."

  "It has a DNA reader in the handle, among other safeguards," April explained, licking the corner of her mouth. "Pistol, accept the current holder for target power only, activate visible designator from trigger pressure and end authorization in one hour. Cheesy, what you got for him to shoot?"

  Cheesy took another ball of meat without comment and pitched it overhand at the stainless covered bulkhead behind his equipment. It hit with an audible ‘plop' and clung to the surface with a domed red face to them.

  "Touch the trigger very, very, lightly and it will give you an aiming dot and then blast that meat," she instructed with a chuckle, enjoying the impromptu arcade.

  He touched the trigger and then steered the little red dot on to the target and squeezed gently. It was obvious he had some experience shooting from the smooth control. The center of the sirloin turned brown and sizzled rather quickly, a tendril of steam drifting away. He was pleased with himself and made to pass the pistol back toward her, but his buddy reached and took it.

  "Now, it won't accept me firing it either will it?" he asked.

  "No. It'll read and reject your DNA."

  "So, what if I keep trying and don't understand English, what? - Boom?"

  "Try it and ask," she suggested.

  He pointed it at the safe wall carefully she noticed approvingly and squeezed the trigger. The same warning was repeated, but then he told it. "Je ne comprends pas. Je ne parle pas anglais." The same little tinny voice repeated the warning in perfect Parisian French. That seemed to impress him more than the firepower and he passed it back with a grin.

  Meanwhile, Cheesy had scrapped the ball off the wall and popped it in a grill. When the two Frenchmen ordered, she was relieved to see he made theirs from fresh, but he soon made the targeted burger up for himself and joined them.

  "So, if you had a load of 500 Kilo' of cocaine, the USNA Customs would have to just let you slide right through and you'd declare it to them? Right?" he inquired, skeptically.

  "Yes. I'd never accept a load of coke. I don't need a law to make me not deal crappy street drugs, but if I did there's not a thing they could do about it," she told them dead pan. "A serious breach of our treaty could put us back at war. I don't think they want that - yet."

  "I'm glad you're friends with France." was all the near one, John could say and he received his burger from Cheesy and turned his attention to it. He seemed put off with her blunt willingness to use force.

  The serving baskets Cheesy used were covered with a loose bright red checked cloth that was slit but pulled closed by an elastic band along the inside edge. That kept things from floating away. April had been reaching in with two fingers and snatching garlic fries out, but when she reached in with both hands and pulled a second burger out the Frenchmen were astonished.

  "Where does it go?" the newbie protested.

  "Hey, I haven't eaten in hours," April said in her defense. She leaned across and dabbed a little spot of mustard with her finger tip on the sullen one'
s neck and he stiffened, not sure what she was going to do and still unhappy with her, but too proud to flinch away.

  She leaned closer still, legs almost straight from the toe bars to reach him, but slowly so as not to scare him and licked it off with a single slow lap of her tongue that trailed off behind his ear. He couldn't help an involuntary deep breath and a visible shudder. "I'm glad you're friends with Home too." she breathed in a warm stage whisper on his ear, "but you can be glad I'm not really ravenous," she said sweetly and play nipped the edge of his ear.

  His friend hooted and drummed the counter a staccato roll with his hands flat. Cheesy had an old fashioned ships bell behind the counter, he rang when he got a tip and he gave that three good strikes, laughing. A year ago she'd have never have had the nerve to do such a thing. But traveling and dealing with port officials and businessmen, had given her new self confidence.

  "My God, Paul," he said to his friend, flustered, face red, leaning away from April. "tell my family I was brave to the end."

  "Oh, I'll describe your sad fate in careful detail to your mother," he promised too easily.

  That seemed to restore the damaged civility to their dinner and they bantered about lighter things until she had to go. She beamed her payment off her pad to Cheesy, seventy-eight dollars NA, plus a ten buck tip. Cheesy came over and took her empty basket, but her surprised her by leaning across the counter and taking her head in both big hands and solemnly kissing her well to each side high on her cheeks. "You won't be back until the new year. You have a very good, safe new year and be careful out there," he commanded seriously. April had seen Middle Eastern men do that to each other, but she was touched he'd do such a comradely thing with her. She just hugged him around the shoulders which felt much more natural to her and assured him, "I'm always careful – don't you worry," and gathered her feet under her ready to jump for the door, but paused. "What ship are you from, so I'll know if I meet you out there?" she asked at the last moment of the Frenchmen. She was impressed they hadn't made fun of Cheesy's concern for her, after all the other banter.

  "We're from L' Arch de Ciel. The Arc of Heaven," he translated, "a fine ship of the Republic out of Tahiti. I am John and my friend is Paul. And you, what ship are you traveling on mademoiselle?"

  "The Happy Lewis, out of Home as you've figured out. I'm April. It was nice meeting you John, Paul," she nodded at each and jumped for the door.

  "The Happy Lewis?" the newbie John asked, suddenly interested. "Un navire de guerre," he acknowledged with respect in his voice - a warship. "If I had but known, we could have asked her about the ship and the crew before she left. I hear it's a tiny vessel for all its deadly reputation, so certainly she would know everyone aboard from even a short passage."

  "Oh, she knows them all," Cheesy informed them, from across the counter, all amused. "She's April Lewis, Master of the Happy Lewis," he said, emphasizing the last name for them.

  Both of them turned to look at her again, surprise written on their faces, but she was gone.

  Chapter 8

  Out the door and down the corridor, if April zipped in like a bird, she flew out much slower, like a freight Zeppelin overloaded with cheeseburgers. Going to the docks, she just went with the flow. If you weren't passing them most people didn't look up to make eye contact. New Las Vegas was the big city, compared to Home's small town atmosphere. A few folks would always look her over from afar. After all NLV was a magnet for all sorts of strange people, the people watching was prime and she probably qualified as one of the more exotic. But it was still USNA territory too and people might look, but were almost as reluctant to actually meet strangers as people Earthside. The NA system of Homeland Security and neighborhood snoops was still very much in place and had gained a foothold on NLV with its transient population, it had never acquired on the backwater Home was before independence.

  Upon waging and winning a week long war and an unconditional surrender a year ago, Home had wisely made no attempt to change the internal workings of the USNA, given the difference in size. Any changes would have required more people to enforce and monitor than their entire population. They had only imposed some few specific conditions, about how NA treated Home. Even those few demands meant that when she meet USNA military personnel in the corridors here, she often received a venomous glare of hatred. The foremost condition was that NA not lift any more armed ships past the atmosphere. The military in particular resented being forced to hire out satellite launches, or freight lifted, to foreign vessels.

  In just a year the USNA was already chaffing under the restrictions and people were publicly calling the surrender a mistake. Many were calling for the resignation of those who had surrendered. Nobody seemed to remember they had been forced to swear the postmaster general in as President, due to the decapitation of their government and military. The fact they still did not have a permanent bridge rebuilt, anywhere along the Mississippi, or the vast majority of their geostationary satellites replaced, seemed to be a lesson lost on them.

  They had no choice, given they were still rebuilding the capacity to construct even unarmed space craft after Home's bombardment. They had suffered the loss of too many small shops making critical components, like shuttle tires. The selective destruction had been as easy as reading brag articles in the professional journals and then making a location confirming phone call, before reducing their specialized shop to rubble. Whatever small armed assets they still had in orbit or the Moon, they were probably hoarding, as they couldn't re-supply them right now. The situation made them feel like a third world power, even though they were still the dominating power on the Earth's surface. Home didn't care about that.

  Too many civilians seemed unable to accept the reality that they lost the war, even though the country was still having trouble distributing power and goods. They still had no idea what the nature of the weapon used against them was, or how to counter it. It was a strange national state of denial. The majority of the military for all their hatred, was not so eager to actually fight again.

  Well before the war with Home, the USNA government had stopped public release of causality figures and only officers were transported home for embarrassing funerals. But too many in the service were comparing notes, on how many friends and former unit mates they couldn't find any more. Indeed entire bases and carrier groups had disappeared off the lists. There were a lot of them gone.

  The civilian population on the other hand, seems to blame the politicians, not Home, for empty store shelves or brown outs on the power grid. The military they dismissed as cowardly and not really trying at all and secrecy kept them from defending their actions.

  April wore the recently introduced emblem of Home as a pin. Doris Chalmers had won the design competition for the symbol and flag. It was three overlapped ellipses increasing in size right to left along the top edge of a larger canted ellipse. An abstract form that suggested orbits and motion. The shape was represented in gold on the upper left two thirds of a deep blue square flag like Switzerland's.

  April knew the emblem might irritate some, but anyone of any intelligence would know where she was from anyway. Foreign visitors to North America were issued a laminated ID card, for anytime they went out in public. Home had not argued an exemption for that requirement under the terms of surrender. Instead they had accepted it as shameful for NA, not them. Like wearing a Jew's star in the Nazi Reich. Besides if they didn't use it, they would probably have to issue some sort of ID themselves, for use off Home. The cards were color coded to be visible from a distance, Blue for UK, Red for China, Brown for Europe and so on.

  Some bureaucrat decided Home would be Black, probably thinking it had a negative connotation. But actually it lent a sinister air to them, that gave them a strange sort of status, so they were sometimes referred to as black cards on the news. Besides it went extremely well with April's customary outfits. Home had no professional military, just a volunteer militia and they lacked a uniform but black was becoming the custom for
militia members to wear as a sort of ad hoc uniform and an inside joke of sorts.

  When she got to the end of the public corridor there was a duty free shop, before the security area check through from public cubic to spacer country. She didn't have any duty to save but it was still a convenient place to pop in and get a gift. She had found out Jon Davis enjoyed an occasional bottle of Champagne. She had tried buying him an expensive French vintage the first time, but he was no wine snob and actually preferred the less expensive Australian brands. She bounced in and perched at the counter.

  "Hi, I need a case of Veuve Clicquot Reserve at dock nine. Send it to the Happy Lewis if you would please, within the next half hour or so and be sure it's still in a high G boost pack." she said, with her pad out to pay.

  The clerk looked down right panicky. "We can't sell to anyone under twenty-four. In fact we could be fined for you just being in the store. If you'd just leave quietly it would be so much easier. Otherwise I'll have to call security, so it's on record we didn't encourage you to come in."

  "Ah. You're new. I get this all the time. I'm from Home," she said pointing to the black ID card. "Call your manager and he'll tell you it's OK. I've bought from him before. I have the right under treaty terms. I'm an adult in my own country."

  He looked dubious, but called on the com in the counter. April could not hear the other end of the conversation, but this end consisted of several objections starting with "But," that were all cut off from the other end and one final capitulating, "OK."

  Still looking a little worried, as if it would all turn out to be a nasty joke on him, he took the payment off April's pad and promised the case at dock before they separated. April went back out in the public corridor. Her new friends the Frenchmen were just passing through security to dockage. She was glad they didn't stop in the shop, as they would have probably razzed her about calling an Australian product ‘Champagne' at all, instead of sparkling wine.