A Sudden Departure (April Book 9)

by Mackey Chandler

  April drew so fast the man's camera couldn't render it in slow motion later. It was stuttered in frames not overlapping very closely at all. The crack of the beam interrupted Tess' narrative. The shower of shattered drone pieces weren't particularly dangerous, but a hot motor core went down the collar of the camera man.

  His shoulder cam once locked on a subject, like Jeff, did a remarkable job of staying pointed with little jitter. But with the man doing a wild primitive dance it swept the entire room at seemingly random directions, showing overhead, floor and startled faces of other diners before he pulled his shirt out and got it to drop out.

  "Oh my God! She just shot at my cameraman," Tess shrieked.

  "I can assure you," Jeff said calmly, "if April had shot at your cameraman he'd be dead."

  "Are you people crazy to shoot at a news team?" Tess shouted.

  "You aren't listening. This is a defect in you. Nobody shot at you. The drone was a threat. It startled me and blinded me too. I suggest you learn from this and warn people you are about to shine a bright light in their face, better yet, ask permission," Jeff warned.

  "We have a right to record in public," Tess informed him. The camera man was back in action but keeping his distance with his shirttails hanging out.

  April was looking at the scorched groove in the overhead. She was going to hear about that.

  Jeff looked so tired. "I have no idea what the law is in your home country, or in such shards of the pathetic European Union as still try to assert authority, but you are in a foreign country. There is no specific right by law to record here. It depends on the permission and patience of the person being recorded. I haven't told you that you may not record me, but my patience is wearing rather thin. The only reason I have not is that the only remedy is extreme."

  "And what remedy can there be if there is no law?" Tess asked.

  "I can tell you to stop recording me or I will challenge you. Then you have two choices. You can meet me in the north corridors the next morning, and bring weapons of your choice, or take the first shuttle leaving Home and never come back."

  "Do you think I'm a barbarian?" Tess demanded.

  "Yes," Jeff said, nodding vigorously, "in a lot of ways you are. You engage in rude behavior behind the shield of your profession. Despite claiming to be a journalist you seem to lack the training to do research or ask insightful questions. You however lack the primary skills of a barbarian to direct violence effectively. You lack both civilized graces and barbarian skills. That doesn't leave much, does it? My honest answer gives you the right here to challenge me if you want, but be aware that gives me the choice of weapons."

  "You would let men duel with women?" Tess asked, outraged all over again.

  "I thought you Earthies prized equality?" Jeff said, faking a shocked expression. "Here I'm treating you as an adult equal and you want to play the delicate little flower. Shame on you."

  Tess gaped at him, and then looked angry. She made a gesture to the cameraman that they were leaving and stormed out. To add to the indignity when it was clear they were headed for the door the clump of old men by the coffee pots applauded their exit. Unfortunately by then the cameraman wasn't recording.

  "Well, that was most unpleasant," Jeff said, and he pointed at her plate. There was one last bite of French Silk pie. April smiled and ate it.

  "You do know if you keep giving people opportunity eventually one will challenge you," April warned, putting her dishes back on the tray. "They might have sent the Dutch national pistol champ, or an expert swordswoman, disguised as a reporter to sucker you into it. You might think on that, or at least what choice of weapons you'd make."

  "She's Dutch? That's interesting. You must have researched her after the last meeting."

  "No, I lip read the nasty word she mouthed when I fired," April said.

  Jeff was surprised she'd know a nasty word in Dutch. She hardly ever used an English one.

  "You raise a valid concern. If Ms. Lester decides belatedly to challenge me I will chose pillows," Jeff decided.

  "You'd make a mockery of the duel and a spectacle?" April asked. "There are people on Home who might challenge you for doing that."

  "Oh no. I'd kill her," Jeff vowed. "It would just instruct them I don't need pistols or bombs to do the job. It might restrain future challenges without making a mess for housekeeping."

  April thought about how that would work, and shuddered.

  When they got home April edited her news filters and bots. She kept all the key words but upped the preference for stories from Continental News.

  * * *

  Liggett walked in and tossed a printed com message in front of his boss Schober.

  "Lewis quit, with two week's notice, but said due to unexpected travel he's not able to actually work out the notice. The distinction between that and just walking out is lost on me. Oh, and he apologizes that he has one of our suits, but offers to return it if we send him a shipping label."

  Schober looked puzzled. None of it made any sense. "Is he insane? Does he have any idea what it will cost him to live here until he can get a ship back? Send the suit back where? If he wears it back to the surface it can be lifted back to Phobos easily."

  "Look at the header on the message," Liggett said.

  Schober read it. His eyebrows pinched together and he read it again.

  "That's impossible," he said.

  * * *

  "When you rode up I didn't recognize you," Jon finally mentioned to Barney.

  "We don't have a full length mirror here. You might be surprised how you've changed."

  "Probably," Jon had to admit. "Truth be told I feel better though."

  "The doctor could never get me to go to the gym and exercise as often as he'd have liked," Barney remembered. "But stacking up wood so you don't freeze to death is a real incentive."

  "Yeah, and we are eating better, if less than we'd like sometimes. Our insides are probably in much better shape than a year ago."

  "Me more so than you. You moved around working outside. I was a desk pilot," Barney said.

  "No more breathing diesel fumes, no more handling pesticides. That can't hurt," Jon said.

  "Good thing, because if you have a heart attack now there's no medevac or hospital.

  "Yeah, but I do want to ask Vic next time he's here if there is a doctor on his list."

  "Why?" Jon asked. "feeling poorly?"

  "No, but Cindy's birth control implant will be wearing out soon."

  "Ahhh," Jon said. Just when things seemed stable there was always a complication.

  Chapter 28

  "There's a news piece up from that woman," April said. "You might like to look."

  Jeff had no doubt who that woman was. He was sure April remembered her name too.

  "I'll look at it," Jeff agreed. "Why should I stay in a good mood?"

  Tess was wearing the same outfit they'd seen in the cafeteria. Jeff wondered if it was some sort of uniform or if she didn't bring many clothes to Home. She was standing in the corridor to one side of a sign advising it was the home of Advanced Spacecraft Services. Jeff knew enough about Dave's hospitality to assume she'd been inside and been invited to leave. He really doubted Dave would put up with her in your face style.

  Tess was impatient, shifting from foot to foot and glanced at her cameraman twice. When Dave came out the door she seemed uncertain. That told Jeff that Dave's secretary had gauged her quickly and never permitted her to bother Dave, because she didn't recognize him. She probably expected an executive in an Earth style suit. When Dave did come out he was with another man, dressed nicer than him. Dave had on a dirty blue jumpsuit with DAVE on the pocket. The camera centered on the older fellow in the nice shirt before it swung back to Dave.

  "Mr. Michelson?" Tess asked, blocking his path.

  "Ms. Lester," Dave nodded at her. "My secretary told you I don't do interviews. Nothing has changed in the last half hour. I'm on my way to lunch, excuse me."

  Dave made
to step around her. She tried to physically cut him off, but just succeeded in shouldering the man with him into the wall. She bounced off him, a little off balance herself but he recovered better, and his hand shot out and caught her. He didn't immediately let go.

  "This isn't Earth where you can push people around. Don't you ever think of touching me again. I suggest you go back to the filthy Mud Ball where such manners are tolerated."

  The cameraman zoomed in, but then Jeff quickly realized he hadn't zoomed. He'd taken a couple quick steps towards the man. He intended to intervene. The hand holding the reporter became a fist. He telegraphed his intention to hit horribly. To somebody with Jeff's reflexes it was almost like slow motion. Yet the fellow made no attempt to avoid it.

  The fist grew and grew and passed behind the camera's lens to the right. When it contacted, unseen, the scene rolled up to the overhead and stopped moving, looking up at a light strip crooked and off center. The offended man passed through the camera's view again, looking down with a scowl as he passed. He said something inaudible to the camera, but Jeff was pretty sure it was, "Dumb ass."

  Tess helped the cameraman sit up and lean his back on the wall. She was crying and angry at the same time. She at least had the decency to ask if her cameraman was OK, but as soon as he assured her everything seemed to be working she asked if the cam was tracking, and got an, "Uh huh."

  Tess Lester composed herself, checked to make sure her company logo was showing to the camera and reported.

  "As you can see this has been a dangerous assignment for our Continental Team. I'm hoping my cameraman Stan hasn't sustained any permanent injury just now, trying to defend me. If he hadn't stepped up God only knows what would have happened to me. That man was wearing a weapon openly as is common here. Everywhere we go violence seems to follow."

  "I wonder why that is?" Jeff mussed aloud.

  "The gentleman you saw disguised in working man's clothing is actually the owner of the largest ship building operation in trans-lunar space. I have no idea who the thug with him is. Obviously some sort of security."

  "It's old man Larkin you twit. One of his customers," April said over Jeff's shoulder.

  "Yep, mean as a snake. If he bumped me into the wall I'd apologize," Jeff said of Larkin.

  "There are all sorts of rumors on the local social boards about Singh Industries and Jefferson Singh and his partners April Lewis and Heather Anderson, that's business partners," Tess said, and contrived to find need to rub her nose just then.

  "Gossip boards you mean," April growled.

  "Locals tell us it is common knowledge that Advanced Spaceship services has been a long time business partner of Singh industries. The same Singh notorious for unilateral military action against Earth nations and institutions. They have pioneered innovations in spaceship drives and other tech including weapons. Many of the details of Singh devices are closely held trade secrets, the three have interests in ships, banking and many small businesses. Heather Anderson even styles herself a sovereign over her real estate interests on the moon.

  "We question whether the brave heroes of the Pedro Escobar knew their shipbuilder had such a conflict of interest. Would they have done better elsewhere? Perhaps even be back among us safely today? Apparently the Brazilian backers of the ill fated adventure have come to that conclusion, because they have been soliciting bids for work completely removed from Home. Sources on Earth and other space based repair yards have confirmed that, though none will say so on the record."

  "Will we see this conspiracy of Home interests suddenly master the tech James Weir conceived? The international experts insist the entire concept is flawed, yet we have no real explanation of how the Pedro Escobar disappeared. I'm told there is no detailed telemetry, and space craft are not required to carry the same black box recorders aircraft use."

  "We'll follow up on this story as more becomes available. I'm Tess Lester for Continental News EU, reporting from M3 in translunar orbit."

  "She won't even call it Home," Jeff said, "notice that?"

  "Among other things. Are you going to call her out still?" April asked.

  "Who, me? Why bother? I figure it's a race between Dave and Larkin to see who posts a public challenge first. Given I'd bet on either one of them taking her and her cameraman armed with a Wiffle bat, why should I call attention to us? Some crazy people will just assume if we object there must be something to it. Where there's smoke there's fire is an unfortunate meme embedded in the public consciousness."

  "Wow. . . she implied Dave took his business under false pretenses, may have sabotaged the ship and stole the processes for us."

  "Tell Chen where to find this story," Jeff requested. "He should know about it."

  "OK." April agreed and pecked at her pad. "That's odd. It hasn't been posted five minutes even and it's gone already. Good thing I saved it. I'll send him the whole file."

  "So somebody doesn't want this public," Jeff said. "Facinating. I wonder if it was the Europeans? Sometimes they will kill stories for the Americans, or the other way around. If the Brazilians have any pull with the big boys to do that I have no idea."

  "Why would they care if we're slandered?" April asked.

  "Libeled," Jeff insisted. "Published video is legally regarded like print now, not speech. I don't think it's the attack on us, but rather they don't want this drive to be talked about."

  "So, somebody doesn't think it's a fraud?" April asked.

  "They must, or what is the motive to put the kibosh on the story? Somebody wants time to work on it themselves. That's fine. I'm sorry everyone didn't buy the party line it was a humbug, but if they want to keep down the competition that serves us too."

  "I predict her network will get the word to yank her back home if they were told to kill this story. They aren't going to leave her here to cause more of the same trouble," April predicted.

  "Probably, but Dave just filed on her," Jeff said, pointing at the flashing yellow ALL message to every device in the local com net. "I bet the delay was him and old man Larkin arguing who had the greater privilege. She will be on the next outbound shuttle."

  "Yeah, unfortunately you're right," April said. "I'd have paid to see that duel."

  "That's a little morbid. You've been around me too much. But it might have been worth bidding on the popcorn consignment," Jeff admitted.

  * * *

  Jeff's com gave the flash that signaled a priority call. He checked who was calling. It was April, so he hit the hot key to save all his work laid out just the way it was on the screen, and then examined his own camera image to make sure he wasn't too scruffy before he answered.

  "Cheesy's is open." April informed Jeff. She seemed excited.

  "Yes, I knew because we lifted his first shipment of Australian beef."

  "You read the manifests that closely to know when one container of frozen hamburger is being lifted?" April asked. "That seems like micromanaging and a waste of your time."

  "Normally no," Jeff said, refusing to take offense at the criticism. "I had this one tagged to my attention, because a friend has a special interest in the recipient."

  "Oh. . . thanks for taking care of Cheesy," April said, switching gears.

  "Aren't you going to hurry over? I thought you were cheeseburger deprived?"

  "I am, but I still thought it would be nice if you could go with me." April said.

  "As it happens, I have no other luncheon appointments," Jeff admitted. "I'll be by at 1130 and walk you down to the shuttle. Does that work?" It did.

  Jeff was amazed, nobody acknowledged him, but several people waved or nodded at April as they strolled to the South hub. Then when they got on the eight seat shuttle there was a man sitting in a first row seat. It let you get off first at docking and had more leg room. He had a duffle on the seat beside him rather than put it between his knees. He was either saving it for someone or just being selfish. But when April came through the access he stepped in front of her before she went to the back an
d waved her into the seat.

  "Thank you," April said easily, and the man tossed his duffle to the back so it did a bounce off the overhead and pulled himself after it by the seat back. He did a slow easy turn-over off the overhead and slid into a rear seat. His duffle was already floating beside him and he pulled it down. The man was smooth in zero G. The volume wasn't big enough to have seats on opposing surfaces, but that made it easier to get to the rear having a clean flat overhead. There wasn't any aisle either, which let them space the seats apart more comfortably.

  April pushed off on tip-toe lightly with a little twist, put a hand up to reverse off the overhead, and came back down planting her bottom in the seat exactly.

  Jeff joined her, pulled a thin strap across his thighs and leaned over by her ear.

  "Do you know that fellow?" he asked softly.

  "Why? Jealous?" she teased.

  "Yes, but of you not him," Jeff admitted. Everybody seemed to know April.

  "Did you notice his rear end as he turned away?" April asked.

  "I don't have a real interest that way," Jeff said primly, "and while you might, I'd rather not discuss the fine nuances of the aesthetics involved."

  "Not him, his pants," April said. "Now that you have people living in zero G and commuting back and forth they're making pants with sticky bottoms just like they make duffle bags and footies. And people are putting patches on their old pants too. It holds you in a seat or even just backed up against a bulkhead if you don't move around too much."

  "No, I didn't notice. I wish I'd thought of it first," Jeff admitted.

  The flight was just a couple minutes and completely automated. The hatch sealed to port with very flat surfaces touching with less than a tenth of a cubic centimeter void left over, so there was no pumpdown.

  The terminal had a few seats as benches, but a fair number of standing spots, with a toe strap and an upright with a small tray on top to hold your pad or coffee. There were a few sitting waiting for the shuttle and a couple hanging down like bats from a Earthie perspective. You could go straight through to a tunnel or up or down to two waiting surfaces. There was no effort to keep everything aligned one way for newbies. Straight to their right was a sealed opening that would be April's pizza joint soon. And the other way was an open bright portal into Cheesy's.