The security barriers were next to the duty free shop, with an in and out portal and a shared scanning and inspection station. The corridor widened out here, with the full space that was occupied by a storefronts on each side normally, now open on each side to a plaza like volume, with seating and machines for scanning freight and luggage, or even opening them for a hand inspection. They still kept everything oriented to one deck, in the public zero G area though, because inexperienced people got disoriented easy, if everything poked out in seemingly random directions and signs were upside down or at odd angles.
April was about jump to the exiting queue, to let them scan her out, when she got a silent vibrator com call signal from Click. She slipped out of the way of traffic, around the shop corner to the side and took the call on her spex.
"April I'm talking to a fellow stopped at the security barrier, who claims you know him. He says his name is Don Adams and he'd like to take passage with us to Home, but he can't get to the ship from public cubic without a boarding document."
April's mind flashed back on a scrawl, written with a vacuum marker on the hatch of the Happy Lewis. It was still there, sun faded and scratched away somewhat, but nobody would wipe it off. The maintenance crew knew to leave it alone. Don had manually released them from the dock at ISSII a year back, or they'd have been arrested by the Chinese. He'd scrawled that message, afraid to say his name aloud on com, before he scrambled off to hide until the battle sorted itself out. He'd been very brave for a ship full of strangers.
"I'm just outside security myself Click. Don Adams is a good friend. Ask him where he is exactly and what he's wearing and I'll fetch him along"
"He says he's in one of the public com booths, opposite the duty free shop and he's wearing a gray work suit and carrying a blue bag. He'll clear the privacy screen so you can see him."
About ten meters away there was a collection of privacy booths and the glass front of one suddenly went from an advertising video to full transparency. The middle age fellow inside looked both worried and angry. He was in a gray collarless jump suit with a logo patch on the shoulder and padded areas on the elbows and knees, that meant it was able to double as a suit liner also. He had a buzz cut, showing out from under a flannel helmet cap - your typical working vacuum rat, with no spex, no jewelry and no makeup or tattoos.
April was about to jump over to him, but from the station side two young fellows appeared, moving fast in the zero G, headed straight for the com booth. Such quick action and knowing exactly where to zero in could only mean they had been monitoring his call. They were not in uniform, but had Security written all over them, more by the Lords of Creation attitude they radiated, than the bodybuilder profile.
Not only for caution, but because she wanted to see exactly what they would do, April didn't go straight across, but jumped for the seats that were a sort of waiting area closer to the booth, but still a public area. She darkened her spex to hide her eyes and kept her left side opposite the booth, to hide her pistol with her body. She kept her face looking straight ahead at the chairs.
One of them looked over his shoulder and surveyed the volume. He dismissed the few folks visible as no hazard, including the young girl headed to the seats and turned back to the booth.
Inside Don slipped a tiny screwdriver out of his breast pocket and did something to the handle on the sliding door. Whatever he did was effective. Although the one young man strained to open the booth, one hand on the door latch and the other hand on the corner of the booth for leverage, nothing budged. The guy had enough size and a beefy look, that it was surprising he didn't bust the handle right off.
The other man pulled out some sort of ID and put it against the glass for Don to see. His other hand was holding a set of cable tie style restraint cuffs. He was somewhat skilled in zero G, although visibly an Earthie and had hooked his toe in the bar that ran along the deck in front of the com booth. April liked what she saw less and less. She softly asked Click through her spex, to request station security to come to where they were quickly.
She would have waited for them to show up, but the one trying to open the door gave that up for a lost cause, pulled a large automatic style hand gun out of his waist band and rapped hard on the glass a couple times with the butt end of it. The few people in the seats started turning and looking at the pounding sound, to see what was going on. He hadn't pointed the gun yet, but the threat was still clear enough just by displaying it. He was starting to irritate April.
One smart older man at the seats, took his bag and calmly exited the area up corridor, when he saw the gun. April jumped off the back of the seat. Both thugs were still turned back to her and unaware. She rolled over once, drawing her pistol in midair and landed on the back of the one with the ID and cuffs. She clamped her legs around his waist from behind, ripped the spex off his face with her left hand and grabbed a handful of hair which was surprisingly long up on top. He bent forward from the impact, but he had the one hand on the glass already showing his ID and a good anchor on the toe strap, so he recovered and straightened back up.
April shoved the muzzle of her pistol under the fellow’s ear and told him just one word, "Freeze." Feeling something cold and metallic jammed hard in his neck and a hand restraining his head movement, he didn't argue at all. It was surprising how much anger could be conveyed by one simple word like 'freeze'. He clearly heard, "Or I'll be very happy to blow your silly head off," echo under the single word.
The other agent was so shaken by her maneuver, he extended the pistol in his hand toward her face, looking wide eyed over his buddy's shoulder. Unfortunately it was still backwards in his hand and he was pointing the magazine end of the grip at her. She just looked at him with an exasperated expression, while he did a double take at his own weapon. She was almost completely shielded behind his partner anyway. She felt her mount squat just a fraction, not trying to get away from her, but scared of his own partner swinging the gun around on him in a careless panic - even if it was backwards.
The booth door popped open and a big hand grabbed the wrist like a vise and then the other big paw gently removed the reversed pistol from his grasp with great restraint. It would have been only too easy to just pull the trigger, while the idiot held it pointed at himself. In fact, those huge paws looked like he could snap the hand off at the wrist, if the fellow wanted to argue. A metallic ‘snick' announced he had engaged the safety and it was stowed in his suit front with the grips hanging out, still handy.
"Take this guy's weapon too," April instructed, keeping her eyes on the other fellow. Don quickly and efficiently patted the fellow down and removed a similar pistol from a shoulder rig and then another much smaller pistol from one ankle and a slim double edged dagger from the other leg. All that and a com pad from each, made for bulging pockets on his jump suit.
"His buddy probably has a hold out too," he suggested. "Shoot the sucker if he gets too twitchy when I search him," he instructed. The man glared hatred at them, but kept his hands away from his body and submitted to the search, but his hands were fists clutched in fury.
Don came up with another knife. This one a wicked folder on a composite lanyard. Don reached in a pocket and got a pair of miniature flush cutters with diamond jaws and snipped the line. From another pocket he pulled out a big wad of paper money folded in half under an elastic band. The top bill was a five hundred dollar USNA bill. He just shoved it back in the man's pocket and a flash of surprise went across the man's face. Another pocket yielded a small leather ID case, that Don held onto but didn't open up yet. The man had no second gun, but when Don pulled a slim tube with a screw cap out of the man's pocket he spoke up.
"Don't open that, or you'll endanger us all. It's terribly hazardous."
Don looked a question at him, but April thought she understood.
"It's a roll of Bucky Braid isn't it?" she asked, anger coloring her voice.
The fellow looked slightly shame faced and just nodded a short yes.
"
Damn you filthy shits," she said heartfelt. "You should get it tangled in your jock." It was a near invisible braided bucky tube line, fine as a spider web strand, a spy weapon, which could cut a man in two straight through his bones. A filthy, horrible weapon, usually used as a booby trap. She jammed the discharge orifice of the laser harder in the man's neck in anger, but kept trigger discipline.
"Easy, easy, easy," he begged, voice little and not aggressive at all.
Don stuffed it in his pocket unopened and pulled himself back away from them, with his back against the booth and addressed her, "So, after all this trouble, I sure hope you're fixing to give me a ride, because I don't think I'm very popular around here."
"You saved our butts once. I'm happy to return the favor. Why are you trying to stop my friend from reaching my ship?" she asked the two, angry and visibly dangerous.
"Please, look at my ID," the one she was still straddled asked and made a small shaking motion with the small leather folder still in his hand.
"Take it Don. I'm comfortable right like I am. I can bag both of them for sure if they move on us, so go ahead and look at the ID."
Don took the ID, but stepped well back to look at it, to give April a clear field of fire and put himself out of easy reach of the two.
"Well! Your pony here is Navel Intelligence, assigned to Homeland Security." He turned the case around and showed her the photo ID and a heavily embossed badge clipped on the case. The shield was gold finish with blue enameling in it. He pocketed the ID instead of returning it. "Let's see what the other fellow is." He opened the case and screwed up his face with a strange expression. "He's on loan too, but what the heck is a Postal Inspector? I've never heard of them and I thought I knew every flavor of cop." If they expected the ID to intimidate either of them it didn't work. Don inquired, "What should we do with this trash? I hate to be rude and leave a mess in public cubic." Nobody thought he meant the items he had taken from them.
They were interrupted as two station security, in uniform and armed, one with a Taser and one with a tangle gun, came up and appraised the situation. The older of the two was fit looking, but had the steely gray hair that said he hadn't started any age extension therapies. He made a stopping gesture at the younger, when he started to call his dispatcher. He was probably going to ask for back up seeing weapons, but the gray haired one was in no rush.
"I'd like some explanation what is happening here." He asked in a calm voice and assumed no aggressive manner at all. April immediately felt he had what was described as command presence and radiated a aura of competence, neither did he seem afraid at the sight of the weapon on the agent's neck, or the grips hanging out of Don's coverall front, as if he saw that every day. "Who called for us and why is there a problem?" He seemed concerned, but he made no move to press close and fixed them with a gaze that was suitable for misbehaving school children. His fearless manner created more caution than an overly aggressive response would have. When he shrank away from the older one, April felt from his body language that the man she was perched on was just as intimidated by the station cop, as the muzzle under his ear.
"I had my crewman call," she spoke up, seizing the initiative. "I'm April Lewis, Master of the Happy Lewis at your dock. I'm meeting this passenger, to escort him aboard and these two appeared to be obstructing his passage to our vessel. We disarmed them, when the fellow here nearest you started waving a gun around. It is a treaty condition between the USNA and Home, that nobody may be impeded traveling to or from Home. I'm trying to restrain myself from shooting them out of hand, but what they are doing is an act of war from our view."
"Mr. Adams is a USNA citizen, not a citizen of Home," the Postal Inspector informed the station security. We have orders to arrest him for questioning, regarding terrorist sabotage and acting as a foreign agent. As you can see there appears to be some basis for our suspicions, since they are coming to his aid."
"You guys just don't get plain language do you?" April asked. "We made clear no one is to be denied access to Home. Doesn't matter what their citizenship is. That was because we figured you'd try to stop defectors. For that matter if a Chinese citizen wants to come to Home through your territory you have no right to stop them either. Passage rights are what precipitated our war in the first place. Don? What's your take anyway on this crap about sabotage and being a foreign agent? Where are they getting that?"
"I suppose the sabotage is when I let the Happy Lewis off the grapples last year, to keep the Chinese from grabbing you guys. Seems they are still pissed at me for doing that, but your amnesty program kept them from doing anything for awhile. China and the USNA - What can I say? - Birds of a feather and all that. I've been working dockage and fueling until a week ago, which is all high security clearance work and nobody complained about anything else I've done. But Eddie sent me a gift of money, in appreciation for helping you guys and when the Feds saw me spending it, they removed my security status to work in a restricted industry. They canceled my access, so I couldn't even go back to clear my locker out. They brought me my suit and work things," he said nodding at his bag."
"But I couldn't work anymore, so why would I stay on ISSII? I could live on Eddie's money, but I need something to do. Ya know? I can't sit around and watch vids and drink beer. I'd go nuts. I just abandoned my furniture and things and stuffed a few keepsakes in a bag and came. Trouble is, when I got here they wouldn't sell me a commercial shuttle ticket to Home, because security put me on the no board list. It's stupid. Why allow me to leave without arresting me, then strand me here? I've been stuck here two days trying to get a ride."
"Ten million Euro is hardly appreciation money!" the inspector objected. "Mr. Adams is an agent of Home, bought and paid for." Talk of that much money raised some eyebrows with station security. Most residents in orbit were at least annual millionaires, but they needed to spend that annually to live too. Ten million cash was still a pretty good chunk of change.
"You do anything for us since you helped us undock? Did you spy?" April asked Don.
"No. But that doesn't help with this sort," Don explained with a dismissive little flip of his hand at the two agents. "They assume you're as crooked as them. So I might as well have the game as the blame. Do you have room for another worker, with a bankroll to establish himself?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course! We owe you big time. More than ten million Euro, or any amount of money could ever repay. That's chump change for Eddie. He's building two more ships right now and they're gonna make the Happy Lewis or the Home Boy obsolete as war craft. You have a job flying them or working on them. Eddie owns them but Lewis Couriers will lease and license operating them. Where ever you can fit in - come on."
"We'll be going then," she informed the station security men. Pushing a little, to see if they'd try to act for the government muscle. "Can I assume you'll baby-sit these two and allow us to leave without shooting the place up to get away? I hate to make a mess and scare people. You have a real chance of starting our war back up if we have to shoot our way free," she threatened casually.
"These two have taken our weapons," the Navel agent said, still not giving up entirely. "He may be free to go to Home, but he's still a USNA citizen who can't carry a weapon through security into flight operations."
That specific complaint produced a brief flash of unhappy concern from the security men. April read that reaction to mean they had already decided to let them go and didn't welcome another roadblock to wrapping this problem up.
"Do you want to trust station security not to give them their guns back, to them until we undock?" April asked Don, skeptically.
"No. They have too much leverage on the local guys. I don't even want to put them in that awkward of a position, with Federal agents." The look on the station security man's face said he was relieved, rather than offended. "I could give all the hardware to you to carry, but I kinda like having it right now," he admitted. "I have a different idea. What do I have to do, to become a citizen of Home?" Don a
sked.
"Just live there. Simple residency. Even if you sleep in hot slots. If you have ten million Euro, you can buy some small cubic outright. But if you have any doubt, you're welcome in my home and I know a dozen that would say the same. Just say you want to live there. No oath or anything formal required."
"You recording back to your office?" Don asked the security men.
"Yes Sir." The senior one said with surprising respect and touched the small square riding on his shoulder with a fish eye lens on the face. A public eye. "Video streaming back also." The calm intelligent look, said he seemed to understand what was coming.
"OK then this is for the record. I, Don Adams, born a native of Lorain Ohio and recently living in habitat ISSII under USNA control, federal ID number 567-32-4011, renounce my citizenship in the United States of North America and will now reside in the nation of Home and accept their citizenship." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his citizens ID card and sailed it across to the security people. "I won't need that anymore," he assured them. Nobody mentioned the mandatory buy-out and exit tax. That was probably smart.
April gathered her feet under her in the small of the back of the agent. "One last thing," she said quietly now into his ear. "Travel to Home is unrestricted, but if I see either of you two Earthies in Home, I'll personally shoot you dead on sight, without a word of warning. I don't like your kind of hired muscle. I'll post intent on the community board when I go home, same as if you were banished, so if you show your face - it's on your own head." The emotionless way she said it was more chilling than if she'd barked it out in anger.
"Thanks for the quick response from station security," she directed to the other two and jumped back for the chairs and turned there watching the group and covering Don, who made the longer jump straight for the security island in the middle of the volume.
April 2: Down to Earth Page 9