“What do you want to look for?” Arlo asked her.
“The gun safe first,” Alice said, pointing. She tried the lever and it was locked. “I don’t know the combination. The dad was always careful to shield it from me too.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll give it a try,” Mr. Mast offered.
That was directed to Alice, who nodded yes, but it was Arlo who looked surprised.
“If I can’t get it open, chances are they kept it written down somewhere,” Mast said. He didn’t spin the dial, instead, he started turning the dial counter-clockwise one increment at a time and trying the lever each time. He did that maybe a dozen times and the handle swung down and the door opened.
“How did you do that?” Arlo asked. He seemed almost unbelieving.
“Some folks run through the combination all but the last number so they can get in faster, or to the last number and back off a little. If they do that it’s fifty-fifty you can guess the right direction and open it,” Mast said.
“I’ll remember that,” Arlo vowed.
The content of the safe was a mixed bag. There was far less ammunition than Arlo hoped for. There was an old junky AR with no ammunition at all. The .22 rifle Alice identified as her father’s, but only a partial box of long rifle cartridges. A box and a half of 12-gauge shells were for the gun the Olsen father carried. There were two and a half boxes of 9mm ammo. That made sense since Arlo took three pistols of that caliber from the Olsens and William might have had one too. On the shelf, there was an antique nine-shot .22 revolver so old the blue was rubbed off a lot of it, but it seemed functional when Arlo inspected it.
“You should take this,” Arlo said of the revolver. He cracked it open and checked it was empty before handing it to her “It takes the same ammo as your little rifle and does nine shots as fast as you can pull the trigger. It has hardly any recoil too. That other pistol you have is too big for your hands and is going to be tough for you to hang onto.”
“It does fit my hand,” Alice agreed and slid it in a pocket. The barrel was too long and she had to reverse it so the barrel was sticking up. “It’s too big for me, but I want to keep my dad’s rifle. I’ll keep using this one for now.”
“I can understand that. You have all the .22s so take the box of ammo.” They counted them out and there were thirty-eight.
“You aren’t trying to grab everything. I appreciate that,” Alice said. “I think you should have the pistol ammo. It fits yours and the ones you took off the other Olsens doesn’t it?
“Yes, and another I have at home. But it fits what Vic carries too. He hasn’t asked for anything. Let’s at least give him the half box.
Alice nodded agreement and Vic muttered his thanks.
“Don’t you want anything?” Alice asked Mr. Mast.
“I’m pretty well set, but if you don’t want that ratty old AR, I’ll take it. Sometimes I hire guards and I’d rather lend that out than something nice.”
Arlo leaning on the safe made an inviting gesture. Mast slung it over his shoulder hanging down his back.
On the shelf where they got the pistol was a business card with the combination to the safe. That was kind of funny. A lot of use it was to anybody locked inside. There was a watch nobody wanted and a small bundle of paper money held by a rubber band that disintegrated when handled. Arlo laughed and riffled through it. “Anybody want this?”
“Arlo, I know it’s no good here,” Vic said, but we have a bank account in Nevada we can still use to order stuff through the pilot that flies in to O’Neil’s store. If you want, we will send it to be deposited and you’re welcome to buy stuff through us.”
“What kind of stuff?” Arlo asked. “It’s only a couple hundred bucks.”
“I got a bag of cheap socks, our last visit. “You could get some canned tuna or Spam. Maybe some aspirin or sewing needles. If you don’t sew, I bet some lady would be impressed with a gift of them. Think about it,” Vic urged him.
“OK, you’re my banker now too,” Arlo agreed, handing Vic the money.
Arlo reached way in the back and came out with two gold wedding bands and a diamond ring.
“Those were my parent’s rings,” Alice said with a quivery voice. Arlo just nodded and handed them to her. She put them in a pocket.
They raided the kitchen where Alice claimed a cast-iron skillet. Vic took a potato peeler and a few other small things. It was amazing the Olsens didn’t have a single decent kitchen knife. But Mr. Mast laid claim to a big brown bean pot displayed on a shelf as decoration.
“Should we look in the bedrooms?” Alice asked Arlo.
“It was pretty awful. I was hoping to find a decent blanket, but everything looked filthy and worn. Their clothing was just in piles. I didn’t want to touch anything, and I thought my standards were lax since The Day. Did you ever see them do any laundry?”
“They would take a bucket and a plunger down to the creek. But they haven’t had any soap since before I was with them.”
“There are a couple of people selling soap at the festival, but it’s dear,” Mast said.
“What would they have to trade for it?” Alice asked with a wave to encompass the house and everything in it.
“Yeah, they needed just about everything they had and lacked a lot. It almost makes me feel bad for them. Almost,” Vic added.
“There’s an ax and a shovel by the back door we should get. There’s a toolbox with stuff too.”
“You should keep that for trade goods,” Vic insisted. “It may be worth it to come back and strip the hardware out of the h0use if nobody beats us to it. Even get the clothing for rags if we have some sacks to carry it so we don’t have to hold it close.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you can burn it down to get the nails,” Alice volunteered.
“This is an old house,” Mr. Mast said. “If we come back in a few months we can be better equipped to strip it. If you check, I bet there is a dump somewhere close where you can dig for jars and metal.”
“Oh, sure!” Alice said surprised. “I can show you where.”
“Another time,” Mast said. “We’ve got as much as we can haul. I don’t want to stay here tonight, do you,” he asked of them all.
“The most I would want to do would be camp on the porch,” Arlo said.
“My old house is not too far down the road,” Alice offered. “It can’t be any worse than here. If we have to, there is a big awning over a patio in back. We could camp there as easily as the porch here.”
“Let’s do it,” Arlo urged.
There were jars of nails and nuts and bolts by the toolbox.
“Oh, that stuff is golden,” Vic said. “I’ve been getting good trades for it.”
“Knock yourself out,” Alice said, “I’m already loaded down and that’s heavy.”
“Just the nails,” Vic decided. “I’ll hide the other junk.”
“Hide it at my folk's house. Everybody close has probably picked it over by now and won’t expect anything new to turn up there. You can bury it,” Alice suggested.
“Ok,” Vic agreed and they hit the road.
* * *
“Annette, I am informed by my ladies that I didn’t treat you respectfully and owe you an apology,” Jeff said. “I do value you and am working to release you from managing Camelot. The direction of that has taken a turn, however. I intend to offer the casino and Camelot’s supportive infrastructure as a package to a cash buyer. I also intend to give you a bonus from that sale. Without what you did as my manager it would be a net loss. I’d be fortunate to unload on any terms.”
“Can you really just sell sovereign territory like that?” Annette wondered. “Won’t Heather object to losing control of it? I know it isn’t close to Central, but she will have to live with whatever it becomes under new management.
“Heather suggested it. I know it’s much more common to conquer territory and take it by force, but I’m aware the USNA, or rather the original states, bought vast tracts of
land in Louisiana and Alaska. It does happen. I was told I should inquire what your intentions are and if possible, aid them. I just assumed you had other things you wanted to pursue. If there are things within the scope of our other businesses you’d like to consider, I or my ladies would consider you an asset to retain.”
“I know you don’t always see social custom clearly,” Annette allowed very charitably. “If it had been intolerable to remain at Camelot, I’d have given much shorter notice and left. If you have a plan to disengage yourself, that’s the perfect time for me to depart too. If I left early now things might not continue smoothly and any hint of trouble might jeopardize the sale you want. Getting a bonus helps give me a reason to stay. Thanks.”
“So, things are not quiet enough for you to leave early?” Jeff asked.
“Things have never gotten quiet for more than two or three days at a time. These people are infuriating. They are constantly in an uproar over something. They have all sworn loyalty to obey Heather’s rule. Not, you notice sworn to her as willing subjects. Just not to be in rebellion to her laws and decrees. That includes what I say as Heather’s voice. But they argue and obstruct, and they argue about Chinese politics even if they are theoretically detached from them. My sense is they don’t respect any Chinese authority either, it’s something tolerated because there is always going to be a distant ruler making demands of them. They may not identify with any particular party in China. They go with who gives them the best deal at the moment. They could switch political alliances in a heartbeat, though family comes before that. They certainly see themselves as Chinese in a cultural sense that has transcended any government for centuries.”
“It’s a failed experiment then,” Jeff concluded. “If you have suggestions on selling it or anything else, speak up. Assume I don’t have the sense to ask good questions. So, like my ladies encouraged me to do, I’m asking, what you want to do? Where do you see yourself going from here?”
“I like being an administrator. I’d like to do that again in the future, but you don’t have any need for that right now. Do you?”
“When do you think we’ll need those skills again?” Jeff asked surprised.
“If you don’t find some decent habitable planets then your whole plan of snatching all the prime real estate out there among the stars is going to come to nothing,” Annette said. “If this is the only habitable system the most you will ever have out there are mining camps and research stations. But I’d love to be governor of a planet for you.”
“I didn’t realize our long-term goals were so well known,” Jeff confessed.
“Oh yeah, that’s the holy grail for your pilots. The big lottery ticket in the sky.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any small domains upon which you can practice,” Jeff said.
“I know. I need to do some other things and gain skills to be ready for the big job. If it can be arranged, I’d like you to prevail upon one of your security guys to accept me as an apprentice. You don’t have a big complicated agency with formal training like Earth nations. I’d like to study under one of your spymasters. I think that would be a tremendous asset for a planetary manager, don’t you?”
“I can see the value of that,” Jeff allowed. “We’ll see if any of our spymasters agree.”
* * *
“You certainly took my worst fears seriously,” Walter Houghton said.
“See? I do take you seriously,” Holbrook said. Walter nodded politely, but he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea. But as long as Holbrook was trying to make nice-nice it seemed like the right thing to play along. He did wonder why they needed a technician to handle the control board for them. He didn’t introduce him either.
The alien flute, bazooka, cat tunnel, heat duct, whatever, was sitting on a table in a moon-hut. The flange was bolted at all four corners in a vertical plate of steel, and the opposite end resting in a machinist’s V-block. The flared end was pointed at the hut wall, then over the lunar horizon, and the smaller end at the opposite wall and the base of Happy’s mountain. They had a microphone mounted in front of the flared end.
The hut had a standard mix at eight-tenths of an atmosphere, and a shade rigged over it because it was in full sun. Houghton, Holbrook, and a technician were in a rover fifty meters from the hut and sideways to the axis of the device. They had a video link and remote controls on the power supply.
“We’re doing as you suggested. Starting with a positive supply to the connector, we will step up the voltage in tenth-volt increments to one volt. If there is no current draw or action, we’ll reverse polarity and try again. Do you have any questions or suggestions?” Holbrook asked.
“What do you have planned if it does something inconvenient, like catch fire?”
That got the technician’s attention. He seemed interested in the answer.
“We can vent the hut to vacuum. That seems sufficient,” Holbrook decided.
“Works for me,” Houghton agreed. “Let’s do it.”
“Go ahead Allen,” Holbrook said.
“Microphone is on. Positive feed at a tenth volt,” Allen said. He waited a few seconds at each step and increased the voltage in tenth increments to a full volt.
“No current draw,” Allen noted, “repeating sequence with polarity reversed. Right away he said, “Twenty milliamps draw at a tenth volt. Twenty-four at two tenths. I’m going to graph it on the screen,” Allen said.
The curve went up sharply and plateaued at five point six volts.
“My power supply is limited at two amps. Looking at the connector and its surface area I wouldn’t be surprised if it can draw more,” he volunteered.
“Nothing from the mic,” Holbrook said, “no Earth-shattering Ka-Boom.”
“I’m not sure,” Houghton said. “Allen, would you make sure the gain is maxed on the mic and flip it on and off a couple of times, please?”
Allen reached out to his console but Walter closed his eyes to that and just listened.
“I believe I heard a very slight static,” Walter said uncertainly. “It might be in your equipment. Would you leave the device off but flip your mic on and off a few times?”
He closed his eyes again.
“Nothing,” Walter declared with certainty. “I’d like to add a sensor at the mic.”
“Let Allen do that,” Holbrook urged him.
“Allen, do you have some paper here? A notepad or something?” Walter asked.
He didn’t have anything until a search found a warranty sheet in a zip-seal bag holding a spare component. Houghton ripped a thin strip off the edge, and instructed Allen to turn the mic ninety degrees and fold the strip over the cable, loosely twisting it so it couldn’t come off easily. It took some minutes for Allen to done helmet and gloves, be checked, and go through both airlocks to position the paper.
Doctor Holbrook took out his phone and was reading something. Walter Houghton was content to sit and watch Allen make the placement. He seemed to understand what Walter was trying to accomplish and didn’t need any correction or guidance. Walter was just as happy not to try to chit-chat with Holbrook. Outside work, they seemed to have very little in common. It took several minutes to cycle through the airlocks twice and walk to the moon hut. When Allen resumed his seat Holbrook put his phone away.
“Should I ramp it up again or just go to full voltage?” Allen asked.
“Let her rip,” Walter said. Holbrook frowned a little at this small usurpation of his authority. Allen was after all his technician to order about, but he let it go.
In the video link, the little paper strip fluttered continuously.
It was Allen who spoke first in amazement. “No way can it be that quiet! The hum of ventilation fans will drive you batty on a ship.”
“Well I did hear a very soft sound,” Walter said, “more a sigh than a hum.”
“I bet that was just the sound of the air flowing over the microphone,” Allen said.
“Either way, I think we can agree it is ve
ry quiet,” Holbrook said. “Now the question is, How the devil does it work? It has no impellor. I am aware static discharges can propel gases away from a discharge point, but it has neither.”
“I’m not sure either,” Walter said. “It may be difficult but I’d try to get electron or x-ray microscopy images of the inside wall of the tube.”
“Yeah, before we do anything irreversible like cut a section out,” Holbrook agreed.
* * *
“There isn’t a thing in the Earth news about the Martians evicting their scientists,” April said. She’d been searching Earth news but Jeff wasn’t paying much attention.
Jeff put down his pad and stared at April. He usually had a quick response but tonight he just looked uncertain and unhappy.
“I hope we didn’t make a mistake,” Jeff said. “I thought we did the evacuees a favor too. I hope we didn’t transport them from the frying pan into the fire.”
“They are innocent,” April objected. “If we hadn’t removed them the damn Martians might have killed them!”
“Probably would have,” Jeff agreed. “I still doubt the European Union would disappear them but I wonder if they might be holding them and interrogating them?”
“Modern interrogation with brain scans and behavior software is so good they should see they are innocent of criminal behavior pretty quickly,” April insisted.
“Yes, but they lost a couple of agents. They aren’t stupid. At least they aren’t that stupid not to know something smells,” Jeff said. “They are going to know it’s a big enough secret to be worth killing people. Those folks were scared. There’s no possibility it isn’t going to be convincing in their interrogations, but it’s going to worry them a great deal they aren’t getting any closer to the core matter, the why.”
“You think they are going to hold them and not release them?” April asked.
“For a while, but at least they are safe now,” Jeff pointed out.
April nodded, but Jeff could tell it didn’t satisfy her rescue complex.
“Let’s ask Chen to do a low priority watch for any of those people turning up or any unusual news about their families,” April suggested. “He can farm most of it out to commercial investigators since it isn’t anything exotic.”
A12 Who Can Own the Stars? Page 13