A12 Who Can Own the Stars?

by Mackey Chandler

  “On the other hand, if he does get warned he’ll expect us there the day after the fair ends. I’d rather wait until the next day and he lets his guard down a little. The day after the fair he might even go out and set an ambush if he thinks we’re coming,” Vic warned. “From what Alice said none of them seemed of a temperament to keep something like that up for long. Especially with nobody to relieve him in shifts.”

  “We’re thinking the same then, subject to discussing it with Mr. Mast,” Arlo said.

  “Who is going to pay you and how much?” Vic asked, always practical.

  “Mast was willing to pay me before we ever came to talk to you. He said you know that he has political aspirations, not for office but as a kingmaker. I’m willing to work on the cheap because I want some influence with him and maybe even a real law enforcement job in the future. Alice promised me that what she doesn’t want of her family things we can divide between us. I’m not above looting the Olsens. I’d like any ammo and weapons at the house that are theirs,” Arlo requested. “I’ll need them when I can deputize people.”

  It was Alice rather than Vic that agreed. He hadn’t expected that but nodded thanks.

  “Oh, this is yours too,” Arlo said and offered her Ben Olsen’s pistol.

  “Why?” she asked, not reaching for it. She looked repelled.

  “It’s a custom older than firearms or even Western Civilization. If you defeat someone in honorable combat his weapons are forfeit as your trophy. If it bothers you to see it, trade it off. It represents more wealth now than a lot of folks attending here have.”

  Alice had to think about that a bit but in the end, she nodded and took it.

  * * *

  “Mr. Hall, I’m Henri Colombe. We met at dinner in France.”

  “Certainly, Monsieur Colombe. I remember you well.” Irwin also remembered he’d seemed rather cold and skeptical of Jeff and Jeff’s associates. Even though it was Jeff who had extended an invitation to call anytime he wished to discuss banking, it was instead Irwin he was calling. The lag between speaking and Henri’s visible response said he was still on Earth.

  For some reason, there was a ding, ding, ding of an alarm sounding in the recesses of Irwin’s mind. He smiled pleasantly at the man, but was already sliding a pencil back and forth through his fingers. Something he did as a stress reliever. People thought he was taking notes and felt good that he assigned their conversation that much importance. In reality, he doodled fantastic creatures, fragments of ancient movie scripts, and odd nonsense lyrics from early TV used to sell soda and razor blades.

  As Henri inquired about the progress on Beta, Irwin scribbled paisley creatures with big eyes, Zen-doodle fields of geometric shapes, and in careful script, Danger Will Robinson, danger! He made the exclamation extra dark and circled it all. What was bothering him so? It came into sharp focus suddenly.

  People on Home were not above name dropping and flaunting influence. They were human after all. It simply wasn’t quite as structured as Earth. Colombe should be reminding him they met at the Prime Minister’s home because that enhanced his status. If he wanted to emphasize the social aspect over political considerations, he still would say they met at the Durand’s. Why wasn’t he doing either?

  Irwin mentioned a few milestones in the progression of Beta’s construction. That was easy to relate since it was all things he’d told others recently. All the while, he was thinking furiously on why Colombe had disassociated himself from the Prime Minister. Or was he avoiding any mention of France itself? That should be easy to find out.

  “Were you interested in Beta as an investment or as a personal residence?” Irwin asked. “I made that mistake recently with another gentleman. I’m afraid I subjected him to my standard investor’s sales pitch only to find out he simply wanted to buy an apartment for his own use. He was rather kind about correcting me but I still felt silly.”

  “For my personal use, certainly. I’m surprised you still have any room for general investors,” Colombe said. “If it was a high-rise apartment building, I’d think you’d be at the stage you had all the street-level commercial space leased and a big billboard out front saying there are residential units for sale. I’d like to get in before all the desirable units are spoken for.”

  “It’s true, many of the business spaces were designed for specific customers,” Irwin admitted. “Including a high g cubic sited and drawn to spec for a branch of our bank. I do have one gentleman who put a deposit down to have the first choice on a residential unit on a full g corridor. We’re not as restrictive as most Earth cities with zoning statutes. There isn’t a strict division of residential and commercial unless there was a noise or mass issue that would encroach on their neighbor’s quiet enjoyment. Or dual use for that matter. I’d be happy to accept an earnest deposit to reserve the second choice for you if you wish. It’s early enough to give you a choice of equivalent units.”

  “What is a suitable deposit?” Colombe asked. “I’ll arrange transfer if you will grant me that reservation status pending receipt.”

  “The first fellow volunteered a four-hundred-ounce bar. That seems like a good enough token to make standard,” Irwin decided. That at least finally elicited a few extra eye blinks from the fellow. Whatever his personal wealth, a standard bar was nothing to be sneezed at.

  “I’ll arrange for it to be shipped,” Colombe promised.

  Now that the deal was sealed, Irwin could try to dig a little deeper to see if his misgivings had any basis. He wanted new business but not if it was shady or outright criminal, and that’s what his inner voice had been telling him about this from the start.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t look to acquiring a property on the Turnip,” Irwin said. That was the unofficial and much shorter name most applied to the French habitat due to its shape. “It has more a French culture and uses your language. It’s also closer so you don’t have this irritating lag to do business. It’s not as if the North Americans and Chinese are a threat, constantly snipping at the French like they did us.”

  Colombe waved that away with one emphatic sweep of the hand when he replied. “They aren’t shooting at us right now, but I regard the entire Earth as a less stable region I don’t care to stay near. I want a clean break from Earth law, even French law, and all my attachments to the past when I leave. I don’t plan to stay active in business with Earth, to need good quick communications.”

  “That’s fine then,” Irwin said. “Beta should suit you.”

  “Very well,” Colombe agreed and disconnected looking satisfied.

  Irwin hadn’t wanted to keep questioning him further but Colombe’s answer raised more concerns than it answered. Colombe was in his fifties by his appearance, young for a man of his station. Irwin needed to find out his exact age and a lot more. He was at the peak of his career and there wasn’t anywhere to advance. The head of the European Central Bank wasn’t going anywhere soon, and was pretty much a figurehead now.

  The previous head of France’s Bank had remained at his post for a couple of decades and there seemed no reason that Henri Colombe could not do the same if he wished. Right when he was ‘sitting pretty’, as Irwin’s mother used to say, he was subtly disassociating himself from their present administration and planning his exit. It smelled.

  He’d have to investigate what Colombe made and if he had unexplained wealth beyond his earnings and smart investments. Perhaps he had inherited wealth and all of Irwin’s misgivings were wrong. But it felt like the man had his hand in the till, the way he wanted to be beyond the reach of French law.

  Irwin did regard that as his business. He didn’t want to be associated with a crook, didn’t want to be responsible for bringing such a person into Beta. Besides that, he’d taken a liking to Joel and knew that a scandal in banking would attach to him and his administration even if he was personally uninvolved and unaware. That would be a shame. Irwin would give Joel a back-channel heads up to audit him if Colombe still looked dirty a few day
s from now. If he was innocent, and Irwin in serious error, it would simply be an inconvenience to him. The harm done would be more to Irwin’s reputation with Joel, so he wanted to be certain about the matter.

  * * *

  “The Martians have another device ready and a load of people to go into exile,” Jeff said. It was amazing how ‘Martians’ sounded like a curse when he said it.

  “We have some of the machinery ready. Have you given some thought to how you are going to deliver it?” Heather asked.

  “Yes. I realize it’s too hazardous to be unloading heavy items that have to be lowered with the crane. The hold will be packed with suits to the overhead too. That will make it slower to unload. There’s simply no way to take off if they decide they want to capture the ship. You can’t just drop something so close to the ship it may damage the aft portion. It’s nice to set down on a paved surface, but I think this time we will do a dirt landing a couple of kilometers from them. We’ll let the dust settle and unload before they are welcome to approach to load our payment and passengers.”

  “I don’t see why they couldn’t walk a couple of kilometers to the ship,” Heather said. “It’s not like we are evacuating medical cases. It wouldn’t cut into their suit reserves enough to be a concern. But if you are in overwatch do ask April if she’d feel safe doing the landing that way.

  “We did the first mission ourselves,” Jeff said. “I feel if they were going to betray us that was when it would have happened. Now that we’ve shown how and personally mitigated some of the risks, we have people experienced at it. I was going to suggest letting them carry on. Our time has value after all.”

  “You have that much confidence in them?” Heather asked.

  “I’ve always had that much confidence in our people,” Jeff insisted. “It’s the bloody Martians in whom I have no confidence whatsoever.”

  “OK, let’s do it that way. If April still wants to do it herself, I’ll back you in dissuading her from it,” Heather promised. “Are Gunny and Mackay contracted to provide continuing security?”

  “The company is, not them personally. They’ll send whoever is free. I’m betting one of them comes though. They like showing their people they aren’t about getting their hands dirty and overseeing new jobs just like us. That’s why we got two of their partners on the first trip. Also, I understand a lot of people want to be able to say they’ve been to Mars. I’m not sure there are a thousand yet who can say that.”

  * * *

  “What’s that?” Eileen asked. She pointed at some yellow bars. It looked almost like butter but she knew better. Whatever it was, it seemed to put her off for some reason.

  “Beeswax,” Vic informed her. “We got a little honey too, but it was very dear. I had to promise some glass jars next festival to get any at all. I didn’t realize some of the old jars for stuff like mayonnaise use the same thread as canning jars. The bee guy, Holmes, looked at me like I was an idiot for not knowing that. We’ll order some more lids and rings from Nevada if O’Neil doesn’t carry them. I saw him earlier, and we don’t need to go see him for at least a month to get our other stuff.

  “Honey is nice but what is the wax good for?” Eileen insisted.

  “Waterproofing, as a lubricant on stuff that slides or rubs, to make thread pull easier or for homemade floss. You can seal up eggs with it to make them keep for months. It was cheap because I got it for the little finishing nails nobody else wanted. I’ll leave everything like that here when we go to the Olsen’s, and pick it up on the way back home. We’ll take a couple of empty hand wagons to help haul stuff back. You can stay here too if you want. You aren’t experienced enough as a shooter to use you for that by choice. Besides, we have three very capable shooters going to confront Bill Olsen. We’re going to maintain a hard pace getting there too.”

  “Yet you’re taking Alice and expect her to keep up,” Eileen pointed out.

  “Yeah, I’d rather not, but Arlo wants her to identify her family’s things.”

  “I want to be there to support her. She isn’t going to be comfortable with three men, even if she won’t come right out and tell you that. I want to advise her on what to take in salvage too. I might have a little different take on that than you guys,” Eileen said. “All I need is for Mr. Mast's guys to watch my eggs and warm the water packs in the sun.”

  “Suit yourself,” Vic agreed, dropping the idea pretty easily. “I had another interesting trade,” Vic said, lowering his voice a little. “A fellow asked if I had any .22 ammo. I admitted to little, but not enough to want to be trading it. He looked around all nervous like somebody might overhear and offered gold nuggets in trade.”

  “So we’re not the only ones doing a little panning,” Eileen said. “Did you trade?”

  “Do I look like a fool?” Vic asked. “He was offering an even trade, weight for weight. We have lots more gold we can pan out on our land but no source of more ammo.”

  * * *

  Johnson was the command pilot this time with Deloris sitting second. She had more hours in superluminals but he had more landings. He’d also landed here before even if it was on their paved apron.

  The terrain – marrain? – two kilometers to the west was reasonably flat with scattered rocks but no boulders. Besides being safe for their landing it shouldn’t present any problem for the Martians to walk out to them. It was passable by rover if they didn’t feel they could walk.

  After that possibility was discussed they decided rovers approaching would be acceptable as long as they stopped a hundred meters out and displayed no mounted weapons.

  The landing raised a tremendous cloud of dust, far more than they expected. That it drifted over their entire facility was unfortunate, but something they had to deal with to a lesser degree all the time.

  Deloris didn’t say anything, but couldn’t or didn’t want to repress a chuckle when the dust settled and the horizon had a distinct tilt.

  “Oh come on,” Johnson objected. “It’s not like we’re going to fall over. I’m not going to lift us and reposition unless the camera shows us tottering on a rock that might shift and dump us. We aren’t in any danger until about twelve degrees.”

  “I’m looking at each pad carefully,” Deloris said, taking his statement for a casual order. The pads had holes through the footplate that made it easy to see the surface beneath it.

  “None of them seem elevated above the surface,” Deloris admitted after a couple of quiet tense minutes. There’s just a dip in the land on the side opposite the Martians. The crane is on the proper side and the tilt is only about four degrees. It doesn’t tend to pull us over and there shouldn’t be any trouble bumping the load against the lower hull.”

  “Good, they’re already going to be irritated we dumped all that dust on them. Let’s try to get both machines on the ground before they get out here,” Johnson requested.

  Since the Martians were already concerned about their aging infrastructure the water harvesting machines were self-propelled. For Mars that meant six flex tires and a decent AI to guide it by orbital maps and avoid local obstacles at close range. It could avoid any falls or rollovers, or avoiding entrapments that would require backing up. With the data from previous generations of autonomous rovers, it was a much simpler program than the typical delivery vehicle needed in an Earth city.

  Gunny had Dan Holt with him on this trip. He was a full partner having come into the security company with Christian Mackay at its formation, but younger and much less experienced. Gunny still had the rank of experience on him and was the lead for the job. Dan was thrilled to get a chance to visit Mars in any capacity.

  Gunny rode the first machine down standing on top, with one hand around the cable. He had the app in his suit computer to control it and moved it away from the base of the ship even before the cable was retracted back up to the hold.

  “We are in communication with them,” Johnson informed them as the second machine was being lowered. “They’ve been reminded to brin
g the boarding ladder we left behind and told to keep any vehicles a hundred meters away.”

  “Are you keeping eyeballs on them to make sure they don’t have any obvious heavy weapons mounted on the rover?” Gunny worried.

  “Deloris is doing that and is instructed to fire on them without discussion if they try to pull a fast one. They aren’t going to chat their way in while she is objecting.”

  “Good. The first trip here I was open-minded, but the young fellow they sent out left me sure he was a creepy fanatic,” Gunny said. “If that’s who they sent to deal with me, I figure it doesn’t get any saner as you go up the chain of command.”

  The vehicle that approached was a flat-bed rover with people piled on the back, roof, and hanging off the boarding steps like Gunny had seen pictures of trains piled with humanity in Asian nations. They all jumped off and had the requested ladder, but waited near the rover and didn’t approach yet.

  The one suited figure that walked over turned out to be the same Lieutenant Hoffman he’d dealt with before. The difference was this time he didn’t press Gunny and he had the next artifact they were receiving in payment in his arms to save time. Gunny was surprised he learned and made things go smoother instead of playing games.

  Hoffman knew the drill on examining the alien artifact from before and didn’t complain while Gunny scanned it. This package was longer but smaller in cross-section.

  One final package came down on the crane. It was the first of the most critical fabber feedstock the Martians were short and six of the suits they’d promised to return. They only had room for six of them this trip strapped in a bundle with no packaging. Gunny suggested Hoffman take that last drop over to their rover. He demurred and called an underling from the rover to retrieve it.

  The package Hoffman delivered to them was not much over half a meter long and only about twenty-five centimeters square in cross-section. Gunny hefted it to gage its mass and called out, “Hey, Dan, heads up man.”