A Sudden Departure (April Book 9)

by Mackey Chandler

  He put on coffee in his private machine set for two cups and sat looking out the port, trying to think. Should he call April and her partners about this? What could they really do from that distance except document his homicide if they tried to cover it up? That was small comfort. When the coffee maker dinged he got a cup and walked back to the port. Not everybody rated a view. He had the luxury of a meter square port facing east. The sun was direct and hadn't reached its zenith yet.

  When he looked down there was a distinct wet spot on the glass right up against the gasket. Just six or seven millimeters high, but he was particularly observant. Just a little half round place where the surface wasn't perfectly flat and clear, like an overlay of clear enamel. Not water of course, that would boil off almost instantly outside. He leaned over to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light or a defect in the glass. It was real. Then he noted it had spread from where liquid was applied and been drawn by capillary action both ways along the seam between the glass and the gasket. The little thin line of rubbery material was darker outside than in. Darker for almost the full width of the bottom now. Capillary action, working as it did, he was sure it would slow down but continue to rise along the seam on each side. How long had it been working? All the while as he slept? When he looked even closer the gasket was swollen slightly at the wet spot, protruding a little extra. Inside it, exactly opposite the outside mark, it was slightly darker and swollen already, a hand's breadth each way. Not so obvious most people would notice, but lethal in the end.

  There were fluids, like certain hydraulic oils, that would eat away at conventional seals and 'O' rings, turning them gummy and destroying them. Happy could picture in his mind how this would progress. Tonight or the next night the glass would chill in the Martian night and shrink slightly. The gasket, robbed of its strength and integrity, would creep from the pressure behind it until it popped out of the opening while he slept. The emergency pressure curtain would seal his unit off safely, but nobody could survive such a sudden pressure drop, even if he had an emergency pressure suit laid out ready pull on. Everything loose would swirl out in the sudden gush of air, into the dark and cold, maybe even him.

  It was hard not to flee the room knowing it was progressing to a pressure failure, but the window wasn't ready to pop yet. He forced himself to make a message to April and encrypt it with a onetime pad.

  I have had two attempts on my life today. One attempt at suit sabotage and an ongoing act to breach pressure in my residence. The political situation is much worse than I thought. Be aware if I have died it is not by any misadventure, but by homicide. I do not know the present environment as well as the people assaulting me, so chances are good they will succeed given opportunity for enough attempts. I am going to go collect additional information if possible now and will send further reports. Given the overt hostility calling attention to myself with repeated encrypted messages carries little further risk. – Not very Happy today.

  Happy considered if there was anything in his room he couldn't abandon and decided not. The computer would reveal his hiding spot for his pistol, but by the time that was found it wouldn't matter to him one way or another. Nothing else was an heirloom.

  The technician Hoffman seemed a very straight shooter. He headed back there walking slowly to kill time and allow him to think. It would be interesting to see what Hoffman said when he walked in. He'd have reported it by now.

  "Hi, Did you file a report in the incident yet?" Happy asked when he walked in.

  "No, Director Liggett has taken charge of the matter himself and it's not a maintenance concern any longer. I'm instructed not to discuss it with anyone, which I interpret to include you too. You can direct any inquiries to the Director himself," Hoffman said.

  Happy noticed there was another fellow sitting at the other bench who didn't appear to have anything to do. "Ah, I figured something like that," Happy said. "No problem."

  "You left your music card in the helmet," Hoffman said, holding it out. "You need to redub it if you are going to use it here. We don't allow more than sixty decibels output in a work environment to avoid missing emergency calls and instructions."

  "Thank you, I don't think that's going to be a problem now, but I got it."

  Happy walked out, noting the other 'tech' watched him closely, and turned down the corridor away from his quarters towards the cafeteria. Once there he went in the restroom and staked out a stall to see what was on his music card, since he didn't have one.

  "This is in text because I don't even dare speak out loud," Hoffman said in the single file on the card. "I've seen some dirty crap here but this is at a new level. They are demanding I falsify records. I'm out of here on the next ship anyway, so I'm going to keep my mouth shut and get home safe. Obviously they will do anything now, and I don't even have the contacts or friends somebody at your level of supervision must have. I liked you, so watch your butt. I think you are in real – continuing - danger. Please destroy this card, not just erase it."

  Happy would try, but he had far fewer resources than Hoffman thought. He laid the card on the deck in front of the toilet and set his laser pistol on the lowest power. When he held the trigger down a few seconds the plastic of the card shriveled up in a discolored ball. He flushed it in the commode and set the pistol back to a much more lethal setting.

  * * *

  Mars was in a favorable orbital position, so it was only six minutes later April's pad gave the distinct ping that mean it was a priority call. She read Happy's message and called Jeff.

  "The Chariot is in dock now isn't it?" she demanded.

  "Yes, but it's scheduled to load next shift and do an Earth run."

  "Good! Then it's serviced and ready to go. How soon can you have your magic module widget aboard and how long to take us to Mars. I mean how many minutes, not hours, sure as hell not days. They've tried to kill Happy on Mars and he needs to be rescued."

  "Ah, I should have known it was a rescue. That's your specialty," Jeff said.

  "I need to call him back and tell him when we can pick him up. I don't have time for you to get all snarky about my rescue complex. Might I remind you your own little precious butt has been the beneficiary of my rescue complex?"

  "You realize this may blow our cover wide open?" Jeff asked.

  "Are you seriously suggesting we sacrifice my grandpa, and your friend, on the altar of operational security?"

  There was just the tiniest pause as Jeff processed that.

  "It has some palleted freight aboard and only one forward pilot seat for an Earth landing. I'll call right now and they can unload and have two more seats plugged in by the time I get to dock or not much later. We can have the module aboard from our cubic within the hour.

  "Go to our cubic and lock the corridor entry for sure. I know you are excited. So slow down and do everything carefully. The module fits through the coffin lock now. Suit up - push it in there and pump it down. After I remove it come through and help me with guiding the module out and grappling it. I'll do it right there as it takes too much time to put it in the hold and attach it later. I want a ten minute boost to be clear of home before we jump, and depending on how close I manage to jump we can be at either of the Martian moons within two hours. If he needs picked up on the surface that will take longer. Maybe another hour."

  "I'll tell him, and get a pickup point," April said, and disconnected.

  Will pick you up at either Phobos or Deimos with the Chariot in two hours. If must land on Mars tack on up to an hour more. Don't waste time to ask for confirmation and explanation. State desired pickup point. – April

  She thumbed enter. Now. . . would he believe her?

  Happy looked at the message and blinked. Could he risk his life on this? The don't ask for any confirmation directive pretty much acknowledged it wasn't believable. But what better options did he have? He called the shuttle schedule for Phobos up on his pad. They had a lift in twenty minutes and it was a six seat shuttle with three seats open. If h
e hurried he could make the lift. It was so unexpected he'd probably be in the air before the directors knew.

  His title gave him lift rights. He'd made sure that was in his contract. Why would they even think to watch the shuttle manifest? Once he got there where would he go? Even he wasn't entirely sure where he was going to go. . .

  Will attempt to board Phobos shuttle in fifteen minutes. If successful you may have to loiter for pickup. Transit time of shuttle is almost three hours. If not there I will still be on surface. May even be alive. Call Martian local com #247 or look for me on tarmac if my com service is cut off by then. Thanks. – Happier

  "Mr. Lewis has boarded the Phobos shuttle," Director Liggett told his boss Schober.

  Schober looked amused. "Well, he does have transit rights written in his contract. But what do you suppose he hopes to accomplish with this gesture?"

  "I have no idea. It seems rather pointless to me too," Liggett admitted.

  "Well, no matter. We shall use the opportunity to have maintenance do a repair on his port. It would be useless and embarrassing for it to fail now. We have lots of time and opportunity to find other methods. On the other hand, if he stays on Phobos for more than two or three days I can terminate his contract with cause and he can be held in the brig up there. That way we don't even have to deal with him after that. He can just sit and contemplate the walls for six months until he's hauled back home. He won't see a penny of his wages either, having been fired. I like that even better as a solution. I can't imagine anybody would ever hire him again for deep-space work." The thought made him smile.

  "We really need to get somebody in Human Resources on Earth," Liggett complained. "It's much too hard dealing with the mixed lot they send us. I really thought Lewis would be manageable, given his background."

  "I've been trying almost three years now. The damn Austrians have too many people in that office. We could have dealt with almost any other position by making their life hell, or nudging them aside and limiting their power, so they would go back to Earth at the end of their first tour. Construction Super was just an impossible position to allow somebody not ours to operate on the job for a full tour. He'd have had way too many questions. I could tell he was strong willed too," Schober said, remembering his interview.

  "Fine, should I give the station manager on Phobos any instructions about him?"

  "No, give him all the rope he needs to hang himself," Schober decided. "If he babbles about some insane conspiracy theory we'll have him discharged as unstable. It works as well."

  Liggett smiled. "I like it. I won't say a word about his little excursion. If anyone inquires what he is up to I'll be quite as puzzled by his odd behavior as they are."

  They had a good chuckle together.

  * * *

  "Pretend you are trying to move like a video in slow motion," Jeff advised April. "It was Happy who taught me how to do this. It's just terrifically easy to stop thinking about it and move like you would under gravity, and boom! You've got a pinched finger or piece of equipment dinged because it had more momentum built up than you realized."

  "It's kind of like the people doing interpretive dance," April said. "I always thought it was sort of silly, if graceful. That's how Easy got his name too. From saying it over and over to the guys doing construction, not to get carried away moving trusses and plates."

  Jeff switched boots, the temporary magnetic over-boots giving them a grip on the station hull. You could break the connection loose by reaching down and touching a tab, or rolling your foot on its edge. He had to do the awkward foot movement because he needed both hands on the module.

  "You know what else it looks like?" Jeff remembered. "When they do martial arts in slow motion."

  "Like Tai Chi," April said. "Most people don't even know there's a fast form."

  "That's it. OK, I'm holding it. If you need to reposition so it's not awkward for you go ahead. Then I'll have you hold it steady and I'll get my feet set square to it. Say when."

  "I've got my feet set solid and turned just slightly toward the Chariot. Your turn now if you need to reset," April invited. "Tell me when and we can shove this baby home."

  "Easy, easy." Jeff repeated. "There I'm set and can push it home. I'm bigger than you so I won't get carried away and make it go crooked. On three just give it a good firm push. One, and two, and three. . . "

  The pin was only about a hundred millimeters from the grapple and it didn't go perfectly straight, but it rattled its way down the open 'U' of the coupling. They didn't hear the clunk of it closing like they would have seated inside, but they felt it in their hands.

  "And that's how you do it like a couple pros. We'll get you a rigger's card soon," Jeff said.

  "I'm not sure if that's a promise or a threat," April said.

  "Riggers are always in demand and make good money. I should have made a video of it," Jeff said. "Happy would be proud."

  "Well like you said, there's so many video cameras hanging off Home maybe we can get somebody to send us a copy. I sure wouldn't be showing this to the world if it wasn't an emergency," April complained.

  "Me either," Jeff acknowledged. "It's just I've decided if people start asking a bunch of nosy questions and claiming they know stuff I'm just not playing that game. I'll refuse to confirm or deny as they say. I don't owe them or care what they think."

  "I have no problem supporting that," April said. She could see Jeff's helmet across the module, but the faceplate was a mirror in the sun. "Is this sucker tight?"

  "Only way I know to tell, without being inside to see the status light – lets pull on it."

  "On a count? Together?" April asked.

  Jeff was already pulling on it, but he didn't want to admit he'd jumped ahead of her.

  "Yeah, on three again. And. . . a one, and a two, and. . . three."

  "This baby is solid," April declared. "Let's get out of here."

  * * *

  "Home Local, Dionysus' Chariot, Master Jefferson Singh sitting the controls, asking immediate clearance to remove from dock at the north hub and exit to uncontrolled space."

  "Direct? No loop around the moon today?" Local harassed them. "No destination, no return?" he persisted.

  "You're right," Jeff told April holding the mute button down. "There are tales circulating."

  "Thank you for your concern, Home Local. No destination declared. No return time can be estimated. We simply want to go out there," Jeff pleaded. He's seen line that in an old movie.

  "You are clear to maneuver at will, Dionysus' Chariot. Be safe, out there, pray thee."

  "Tuck your arms in and prepare for acceleration," Jeff told April. "Engaging acceleration compensation, expect a ramp to fourteen gravities." He let off the mute button, gave a short burst on the maneuvering thrusters to clear the station and rotated ninety degrees to line up on their course.

  "Thank you, Local. Leaving your control area, now," he affirmed.

  The compensators whined as they spun up and the thrust climbed nearly in step to balance out. There was a slight shuddering feeling as they got in and out of sync slightly. They reached fourteen G, and felt about three G felt in the couches, less than three seconds from initiation.

  There was a long unprofessional whistle of appreciation at his exit style on the control frequency that Jeff pretended not to hear.

  It wasn't as comfortable as April remembered. The compensators had been improved, but there were still odd gradients from her legs above to her hips, and her head to her chest.

  "Jump coming in sixty seconds," Jeff said after what seemed like too long a time. "We'll cease acceleration, do some navigation, and set course for Phobos on emerging."

  The weird sensations of mixed weight pull unevenly stopped and Mars was suddenly visible as a disc to one side ahead.

  "Not bad," Jeff decided. "A bit short, but on a good tangent for a first try."

  "We have to accelerate over towards it?" April asked.

  "By no means. We just have to
coast a little before we decelerate towards it. The computer will help get us in the neighborhood and in the right plane, but docking at Phobos we are going to have to finesse manually until we can get in radar range. Then the navigational computer can deal with it again."

  "How will you do that? Get in radar range that is?" April worried.

  "Well they can see the moons from Earth with a really junky telescope. If I can't acquire them with a Mark IV eyeball we're in trouble."

  "Oh, still. . . we do need that better radar," April reminded him.

  "The new alloy I told you about may let us do something about that," Jeff said. "It seems it will be useful to construct something called a Veselago lens over each element of an array of high power flatennas. Veselago lenses up to now have been more theoretical than practical. They've been made as integral emitters similar to an LED, in axial graphene semiconductor diodes, but they have always been very limited in power due to heating."

  "Tell me what it will do," April insisted.

  "Flipping and starting a slow burn," Jeff interjected before answering.

  "If you have enough hull area you can mount a few hundred of these and emit as much power as we have any way to produce in a spacecraft today. The beam can be shaped focused and aimed. Like a synthetic aperture radar, it can do things that simulate a very different shape and size emitter than what is really there, but with even more control. It can focus all of the elements to a common spot approximately one wave length in diameter."

  "You were eventually going to tell me about this?" April asked hopefully.

  "Yes, but I've been rather busy since your call this morning."

  "I think you just described a beam weapon," April said.

  "Well, if you have a few hundred megawatts of power available, and focus it down to say a one centimeter dot, it might mar the paint job, yeah."

  * * *