"Mr. Lewis! We didn't know you were coming to the facility. What can I do for you?" the first shift supervisor asked as he rushed up. Well as fast as anybody can rush up on Phobos. It might have been more convenient to have no gravity than the little they did. The supervisor did an interesting braking maneuver on the line strung across the entry area. There were a lot of lines and grab bars everywhere, but when people were in a hurry they went ballistic.
The man was too flustered to introduce himself.
"Tom. . . Rapper? Raftner?" Happy struggled to remember.
"Thomas Raber," the man supplied.
"My apologies," Happy offered. "I've read the bios, but I'm still getting oriented."
"Is there anything I can show you? Is this some sort of inspection?" he worried.
"I'm expecting a ride. If you might have a suit for me that would be appreciated. I haven't been here in awhile. It was two moon huts, last time I was here," Happy said, looking around.
"Are you going to use a hopper?" Raber asked. "That's how most people move around Phobos. We have two of them. They're double saddle open craft. I understand they're tricky, so I'd suggest an experienced pilot if you'd like one prepped."
"No, I don't expect to go beyond the cleared landing area out there. There's a craft in service of which you aren't aware," Happy said, and laid a firm finger along his nose.
"Black operations?" the man asked wide eyed. It clearly shocked him.
"If you have some sort of operations center or traffic control?" Happy suggested.
"Yes, we have two at all times manning a communications center that keeps track of the hoppers and shuttles and directs com traffic around Mars through the satellites. We relay for the rovers and back to Earth."
"That's what I need, and if you'd call, somebody to prep a suit," Happy asked. "Lead on."
* * *
The control center had actual ports looking out on the landing area. The two men had an impressive collection of radios and radar, screens detailing data traffic and some live video from the planet. One screen also had the Vienna Philharmonic, live, plus speed of light lag, playing very subdued.
"Have you had anyone call for traffic clearance?" Happy asked from behind the two controllers. He didn't bother with introductions or explanations. When the men saw their supervisor with Happy they didn't demand who he was or why he asked. The one casually reached over and eased the music all the way off.
The two looked at each other, guilty. The older one spoke. "We haven't had a call, but somebody appeared to paint us with radar about twenty minutes before the shuttle came in. You wouldn't know anything about that?"
"Why didn't you call me?" the supervisor asked.
"Because it's impossible. If I reported it you'd have us drug tested, tell me you wouldn't, and it ended then, so there's no proof. We don't turn on the recorder until about five minutes before a shuttle arrival. It saves a little data storage," he explained.
"That's likely my ride," Happy said. "Can you give me a live mike on the normal traffic control channel?"
"Yes sir." The man flipped a couple switches and pressed a button. He tapped the mic and looked satisfied when a couple of the readings changed. He handed it to Happy still looking thoroughly unbelieving.
"Yo! Chariot, you chasing this flying gravel pile?" Happy demanded.
"On autopilot to. . . well land is kind of silly. Dock?" a male voice asked. "We are still decelerating. When we're a couple kilometers out I'll flip before I pass and paint you with the targeting radar. It's more accurate. Then we'll match and slide in front of you."
The controllers looked at each other when they heard targeting radar. There were never any armed vessels at Mars.
"Yeah, come up on it very easy or you'll bounce," Happy warned. "In fact, get within a couple hundred meters of the flat field out there, and I can jump up to you."
"With no thrusters?" Jeff asked. "And when you pass by on your way to Jupiter we get to chase you and try not to burn you up in the exhaust."
"You're talking to an old beam dog," Happy reminded him. "If I can't thread the needle and enter the lock without kissing the edges, then the beer is on me tonight. Besides, you really do come back down. It just takes fifteen or twenty minutes."
"As dry as I am, I'll try to plant my landing pads on that ugly potato. I may have to use the thrusters to hold them there. Then you can walk out dainty like and we'll drop a line out the lock for you."
"Sounds good. I have them prepping me a suit. Don't get antsy. It takes me awhile to look at a new suit until I trust it. Especially after the last one. I'm leaving the radio room now. I'll knock on the hull if the suit radio isn't compatible," Happy promised.
"Thank you boys," Happy said, passing the mic back to them.
"Is this secret?" One of the controllers asked.
"Well, that's up to you," Happy said, smiling. "Did you suddenly decide nobody will think you crazy if you tell the story?"
He didn't get an answer for that before he left.
Chapter 27
The ship outside their ports floated down like it was sinking through syrup. Its rear thrusters and front thrusters flickered together a couple times.
"What is he doing?" the one controller asked.
"The thrusters minimum pulse is too big for work this delicate. So he hits both. They're never exactly balanced and he taps it quickly until he gets one that his radar shows is slowing his decent. That's pretty tricky piloting actually."
When the ship was fifty or sixty meters off the surface the thrusters flashed a few final times. Then Jeff let it fall the rest of the way. The landing jacks compressed and made it rebound about head high, but then it settled again. After three more bounces it didn't appear to lift from contact on the last rebound. He didn't have to hold it in place.
"That's an atmosphere capable craft," the senior controller said, unbelieving.
"All my hallucinations are," the other said.
"So where is the mother ship if this is their shuttle?"
His subordinate had his own thoughts on that, but didn't voice them.
"And armed," the senior said, clearly uncomfortable with that.
"I don't see anything hanging on her."
"They said targeting radar," he reminded him.
"They might have lied."
"You know what? I don't think they would bother to lie for us."
Happy walked out in slow motion with little skipping steps. He'd obviously done this before, and it looked something like slow careful ice skating. April leaned out of the lock and threw a line down to him. She didn't have the patience to wait for it to fall. He went up it slowly despite his earlier brags.
"Phobos Control, this is the armed merchant Dionysus' Chariot requesting departure from your controlled space. Are we clear for other traffic?"
That was sort of amusing. They'd hadn't asked clearance to land. Why to take off?
"Dionysus' Chariot, we have no other traffic above Deimos orbit. You may depart at will." Then since they asked like this was everyday normal traffic, he got bold. "Do you have a controlled destination to declare, Dionysus' Chariot?"
The ship lifted away on maneuvering thrusters and gave one small eye searing burp of the main drive to push it ahead of the moon.
"We're not certain. Likely we will contact local control somewhere in-system."
The ship being black was invisible now although only a few kilometers away.
"We have radio traffic with Earth if you wish to send notice," the controller offered enjoying this game since they were being so unexpectedly polite.
Suddenly Jeff really didn't give a damn and answered honestly. "Thank you for your kindness, but we'd beat it back."
The ports in the Phobos control room looked over the field, but didn't afford a view overhead which was direction of the moon's orbital path. Nevertheless there was a brief faint flash of light after Jeff's last odd remark, and an odd thump like something had been dropped in the corridor.
> "Right. . . " the senior controller said to Jeff's cryptic remark. Still, they were being polite even if they were sparring a little verbally, so he added, "Be safe out there."
He waited but there was no usual answer on the radio.
"Traffic has vanished from radar," his workmate announced.
"On what vector?"
"No vector. It was there and then it was gone."
"That's impossible. Is the radar down?"
"There's nothing in range on which to test it, but self diagnosis says it is functioning."
The junior controller did a search of the ship registry. The Dionysus' Chariot showed as an Earth and lunar capable landing shuttle registered to Home and owned by Singh Industries. He didn't share that with his supervisor. He'd just say it was impossible.
* * *
Going in system towards the huge mass of the sun, he didn't want the speed he had coming out. He put the request in the computer which showed the projected emergence that would lead ahead of the Earth well outside the lunar orbit. He gave his passengers the courtesy of a "Here we go," and thumbed enter.
The Earth appeared off their right port. They were upside down to the northern hemisphere, and the moon wasn't in sight, being behind the Earth. Everything was about where it should be and he told the computer to start a long easy burn to slow them as they chased the moon around the Earth and caught up to it. If the numbers were off a little they'd adjust it in a few hours.
From the back seat Happy said, "Wow!"
"Hush you old felon," Jeff said. "I don't want to hear it."
"I know I caused you a lot of trouble," Happy admitted, "but I certainly wasn't criminal."
"You're not only a crook, but you've implicated us," Jeff said. "We just helped you steal one very expensive pressure suit."
"I have every right to use it as long as I work for Mars Corp," Happy insisted.
"You haven't quit yet?" April demanded, surprised.
Happy couldn't decide if they were nuts or harassing him. "In all the excitement of running for my life, I forgot to turn in my notice. Now that you've reminded me, I'll give them two weeks' notice," Happy promised.
"That's good then," Jeff had to allow. "Just tell them you still have some of their property, and ask them to send a shipping label."
That was the best laugh they had all day.
* * *
"Where do you want to go?" Jeff asked Happy.
"I hadn't considered anything but Home," Happy said, surprised. "I don't have a lot of choices."
"You are single, healthy, unemployed, fairly well to do and have the best ship in the solar system at your command. Who has more choices?" he wanted to know.
"You do make things sound better," Happy admitted. "Why was I getting so down?"
"Well your new job would have been fun if they'd let you do it," Jeff allowed. "But having somebody trying to kill you is a real downer. I've been there," he reminded Happy.
"When are you going to build a serious ship that will do what this one does? If I could crew on that it would be worth doing."
"I already have a crew of four for that hull," Jeff said. "But define serious."
"An exploration star ship has to have science officers and redundancy in command. It should have at least two shuttles so one is in reserve. I don't think four is sufficient for serious exploration. Maybe as a survey vessel to just look, and come back to tell the vessel with resources where to go. But to land? To put teams out on a planet collecting samples and core drillings and making maps? The more so if you ever find a living world. You'll need a geologist and a biologist, an astronomer and a medical tech. Better a medical team. If you run into someone instead of something you may need a linguist and somebody smart enough to negotiate. Just in case, it wouldn't hurt to have somebody that can fight."
"I didn't say the Chariot was star capable," Jeff objected.
Happy just made a rude noise.
"This is growing to be an open secret," April observed.
"Among certain people," Jeff said. "I really think they will conspire to keep it from general public knowledge without us needing to do a thing to encourage them. Just like the Continental News story got stopped. That's fine with me."
"Oh, one other thing," Happy said. "A simple thank you is not sufficient. I know April has a real rescue reflex, but this was a historic scale rescue, consider your cubic paid for. When I get a chance we'll file the documents that it's yours."
Jeff braced himself expecting April to say, "You don't have to do that."
"Thanks Gramps. Call any time you need a lift," April said appreciatively.
"Oh, I will. But for right now, I think I will go to the moon. I suspect if I turn up back on Home I'm going to have to fend off a lot of unwanted questions. Not from reporters, like Jeff was talking about, but friends who knew I was going."
"We can drop you off, but we need to get the Chariot back," Jeff said.
"It's not very comfortable," April warned. "Not much better than Mars.
"It has com, and I can do some things I've had in mind. I can help with design about as well working from home, and that girl Lindsey keeps asking me to help her write a history of Home. I only know it from a very narrow perspective. I may help her if she'll do my biography in turn. The lag from Mars would have made it difficult, but from the moon we can actually chat."
"Perhaps you can introduce some comforts of civilization," Jeff speculated. "Heather would probably be open to finding a way to make beer. But if you set up a poker game, I think you are aware, she has little tolerance for people going crazy about gambling."
"I bet a Solar I can bring her around," Happy quipped.
Jeff just smiled. Maybe he could.
* * *
It was good to be home. They came back to the north hub, unloaded the drive module to their cubic and returned the Chariot. It was a long, long day with stress and physical exertion. Jeff, exhausted, actually called a cart to take them home. They'd never done that before. It was sitting waiting outside the elevator when they dropped back in the spun section. When it stopped in front of her door April had to shake him awake.
The Chariot could make its freight run, just a little late. In fact it was gone by the time they got up. It wouldn't do to become known as an undependable carrier.
"Instant eggs in a bag or actually get dressed and go to the cafeteria?" April asked.
"It's lunch time already," Jeff objected. He was bending his head one way and then the other lifting his shoulders. Zero G work used muscles he didn't need very often.
April frowned. She wasn't tracking a hundred percent yet.
"Does that mean yes, I want to have eggs here, because they'd be a special order and a wait at the cafeteria? Or does it mean, it's much too late for breakfast or eggs now, let's go to the cafeteria because it's lunch time?"
"Uh. . . I can't even remember what I said. I'm still stunned. Let's do the cafeteria because I don't want to cook, and if you feel anything like me you shouldn't have to."
"Works for me. I suppose I have to put on pants."
"And you're the one teaching me the social graces?" Jeff asked.
"Frightening, isn't it?"
At least they were early enough to beat most of the lunch rush. Neither ordered special service, and instead took one of the suggested lunch items for the day. The coffee wasn't as good as what she made at home, but it was passable. Soup and a sandwich were augmented with little vegetable fritters from the buffet table, and chocolate pie. Jeff skipped dessert.
They got to the pie stage and Jeff nodded to the entry. "That's the idiot reporter who stood blocking the elevator when I came back from Earth last time. I'm surprised her network can afford to keep her up here. She must have gotten on a waiting list way back. I certainly can't imagine anybody like her shift sleeping on someone's living room floor with restricted hours."
"I bet she's a pool reporter and they split the bill among a bunch of companies," April said.
The
woman spotted them too, but thankfully didn't come over. She took her tray and sat using a phone in one hand and eating with the other. You'd think somebody in broadcasting would appreciate good spex.
"She doesn't have the stabilized camera rig on her shoulder," April said, patting where it would go. "She doesn't want to do a shaky phone interview. People expect better now."
"Except the ones who figure that means you are a poor independent doing it for love and day old donuts, so you're more likely to tell them the truth."
"What is truth?" April asked in a breathless voice.
"Well crap, there's the camera. She must have gotten promoted and got a real cameraman. Finish your pie," Jeff said, seeing she only had a couple bites left, "And we'll leave."
"Mmmm, too late," April said around a big bite. The newsies moved to cut them off.
The woman stepped up uncomfortably close and announced herself.
"Tess Lester for Continental News. Good morning Mr. Singh, Ms Lewis." It was more an opening lead than an introduction, but Jeff nodded. April just stared, put off.
"Let me talk a little," Jeff's text message said inside April's spex. "Maybe they will be satisfied and go away." April didn't think so, but she sent back, "OK".
Aloud he said, "Ah, you have a name. I didn't get it when last we spoke."
"I don't recollect we spoke before," Tess claimed.
"Then you must not have used the footage. You were blocking my access to the elevator, but cleared the way nicely when asked."
"Oh, I do remember an encounter," she allowed.
The camera man was shooting over Tess' shoulder but frowning, clearly unhappy with the angle. He went around to the next table over that was vacant and stepped up on the seat. Jeff was watching Tess, but April was watching the camera man. He could get both of them in profile from that angle, except April wouldn't look away. He looked like an idiot standing on a chair. It wouldn't surprise April if Wanda came out and put a stop to that.
"There have been rumors your company. . . " Tess started.
The cameraman, happy with the angle was apparently still not pleased with the lighting. He reached in a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled a small disk out, about the size of a hockey puck. When he tossed it in the air between them it unfolded and made a whirring noise. That made April tense. A drone is a threat, and she was keyed just short of action. Then it turned on a bright light that startled her and blinded her to everything behind it.
A Sudden Departure (April Book 9) Page 32