April (9 page)

April just shuddered, to picture how easily that could have happened.

"Jon, when he opened his jacket to put the pad back in, he flapped it around, moving the air and I smelled the gun."

He brought a pen up to his mouth and chewed on it absent-mindedly for a moment, before he made eye contact again. "April, I
want
to believe you. After all, we did the same thing in his room. The difference is, we have a crime scene chemical sensor, which cost the company about sixty thousand dollars. It has to be calibrated to each new compound and even when you have a good operator and our Margaret and Sandra are good, it will still get confused occasionally and tell you chocolate is antifreeze, or shoe polish is an explosive. Are we throwing our money away?"

"Oh no, I won't claim my nose is that good, but I doubt if you have any idea how fine a sense of smell the kids on M3 have, compared to grounders. When I think about my friends, I don't just know their appearance and voice, I know how each one smells. If I found a cap in the cafeteria, I could sniff it and know if it belonged to a friend. We've never been exposed to smog and pollution. Never had to breathe fumes from a ground car, or paint, or tobacco," she explained.

"When I visited my grandparents last year in Australia, I couldn't believe the stinks they put up with when we went into town. It gave me a sick headache. I watched a TV show about Earth kids my age and in this one scene, a girl came up and put her hands over her friend's eyes from behind. The idea was he had to guess who was there. That would just never work with us. We would all know who it was, from the odor of their hands right away. Besides, we are not talking about something subtle here. Hoppe's #9 is such a stinker, I was pretty sure what it was."

"Hoppe's #9? I was not aware you would have opportunity to catalog the odor of powder solvent. Is that scent popular with the young girls right now?"

April could feel her face flush. This was twice now Jon had toyed with her and it was getting irritating.

"Mr. Davis, I told you the truth and we had just agreed to be on the same side. My dad left it up to me how much to volunteer and I've told you more than I needed to protect anyone. Now I feel you're starting to make fun of me. Is there anything else you need to know, which won't involve some jest at my expense?"

"No," he thought a moment, averting his eyes and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, squinting, "It was not a good time for humor. I'm sorry. Are we still on the same side?"

"I'd like to be," she said, softening.

"Do I need to know who has the stinkum gun powder solvent on our station? And will you be upset again with me if I try to find out?"

April's first thought was surprise he'd care if it upset her. Picking her words carefully, April answered. "In my opinion, it is not a security problem. It might waste a hidden asset, you would leave more secure by not knowing. I will understand you feel it is your job, if you have to search, but I'd appreciate your trust if you don't."  In a sudden insight about herself she added, "I don't share that kind of trust with many people, but if you can find it in yourself to think that way about a thirteen-year-old girl, I can think that way about you."

"Dear God," he said, rubbing his face with both hands all weary and looked back up at her. "We've got guns floating around, who knows where on station," he said, waving a hand around in an uncertain circle, "spies jumping out of the airlocks and my boss's sweet little girl wants to be allies." He pulled his hand back down. "Why not?" he seemed to be asking himself. "You're about the only one in the last twelve hours, who hasn't told me what 'a nice young man' that creep was and I owe you. OK, April, I agree, we'll watch out for each other." He reached down and wrote something on a pad and held it up to the screen. It said 898989. "Punch this in any com and you get me direct. Radio, text, phone, it doesn't matter. All our systems route the call right to me, whether it is the middle of my night or anything. You're one of five people outside my department who have it. OK?"

"Thanks Jon," she didn't think it was a good time to say a lot more.

"Goodnight April," he said and the screen went back to its menu mode. Her dad was looking at her with visible satisfaction.

 "You know, how a station like this one works, is not all titles and job descriptions. That private number was your first ticket, into what has been derisively described to me as "The Good Old Boy Network." But in fact, it's what keeps the whole mess functioning. You notice Jon didn't switch back to say goodnight to me? From him, that was an acknowledgment he was done talking to a player, not an underling," he said, explaining how the social code worked to her. He was very good at consciously analyzing and explaining such things.

"Well, I am the Director's daughter," April pointed out, a little embarrassed.

 "All that bought you today was a few hours sleep. The rest you earned."

"There is still something bothering me," she worried, avoiding more praise.

"I can think of a bunch. Which one do you have in mind?"

"Jon said we have spies jumping out the airlocks. But there are spies and there are
spies
. I can't believe an industrial spy, looking for trade secrets, is going to be armed like he was. And I can't see that a private sort of spy, would be able to call an expensive space plane to pick him up. So it makes him the government kind of spy and I have to ask: What have we got here, that requires a government spy? In fact, since we are supposed to be under USNA law, why can't they just walk in and demand just about anything they want to know, without going to all the trouble to use spies? I know the parent company in Japan has a big interest in the US subsidiary, which owns M3, but on the news, things seem sweet between the two countries right now, I don't see any Japanese sensitivities as a problem they would worry about either. Am I making sense?"

"Yes, unfortunately you are making perfect sense and I would bet Jon is scrambling to find out the answers to those questions right now. He already mentioned what he thinks it is tied to and I can't fault his reasoning. He feels, sooner or later, we will see it's all about the Rock. What else here involves enough money?" he asked.

He also thought about the other spy, the one that didn't get away. But Jon hadn't mentioned it to April, so he decided to follow his lead for now. They didn't really know as much about that fellow, as this Art anyway. Not even if they were connected. So why worry April with something that wouldn't touch her life at all?

"But what can they do?" April asked. "It's all private money used to recover it, right? They don't have any interest in it to protect."

"I haven't said much, not wanting to worry you or your brother, but there is a case soon before the World Court and there is a possibility the Court will rule the investors were illegal in occupying the rock and the government may seize it."

"If that happens what will it do to our family?" She was angry now with herself for not watching closer. There must be news on the web about the court case. She added a search and retrieval, for news about the Rock to her alerts while she was thinking about it. She would not be in the dark again.

 "We would be hurt pretty badly," he admitted. "On paper, we'd lose maybe half of our worth, but what would be left would mostly be our cubic and other things we really need to live, not liquid assets. We'd still have a place to live. We'd kind of be back to where we were when we first moved up to M3."

"A lot of small investors put everything they had in and borrowed heavily to buy stock, in one of the companies that bought a share and divided it up. Some of them might lose everything and have to go back Dirtside and declare bankruptcy. I suspect a few might get pretty nasty, since they bet the farm so to speak," he stopped and pinched his face up a bit. "More than suspect, because some of them have said outright they'll fight. But I'm ignoring that and not holding them to rash words," he promised.

"Even if the court ruled our recovery legal, I've had it pointed out it could still be regarded as real estate and seized under Eminent Domain if they would be willing to pay us something. If they want to steal it they'll find a way to do it and some justification to pretty it up. They don't seem at all concerned it would probably kill any further investment in asteroid recovery for a long time. Maybe that would be a plus to them, for all I can figure out how they think."

"Do you think maybe you could ask Mitsubishi to get involved and put the Rock into orbit by M2 instead?" April wondered.

"Maybe somebody else could, but I'm supposed to look out for the company's interests. I wouldn't want to suggest something to help my own private venture, when I honestly think it would be bad not only for Mitsubishi, but for Japan to stick their nose in. And this looks like a bad issue to push on. I don't think the USNA is going to back down on this one," he predicted.

If this deal does come apart, my good name and my position with Mitsubishi are going to be the only things besides our cubic that is important to keep. If I lose the director's job by giving bad advice, when everybody else is scrambling to survive and jobs are scarce, we might end up forced Dirtside even if we aren't bankrupt."

April, was sure after all he'd said, that he didn't wanted to hear she thought there might be a general rebellion. So she changed the subject.

"The seal thing on the wall. What is that about?"

"It's a very unofficial rendering, of the symbol of a Special Forces unit in the USNA wet Navy. I guess now they're doing space work too. I've known some of those people from my own military service. The very
least
you would call them is capable," he said, with an inflection which implied much more. If his commander found out about his artistic efforts, I'm sure he'd get a real earful for it. Maybe loose a pay grade for awhile. It does reinforce, along with the shuttle, this it is not a private action, it's government sanctioned.

"Can I ask one last question about Jon?"

"Yeah, if you don't want to call him up yourself," he said, amused at the new idea she could do that.

"Does he know you have a gun?"

"I hope not. I sure went to a lot of trouble to break it up and hide it among all our household stuff when we came up. It's just this simple, the danger this fellow presented was more important than keeping my secret."

"Don't you think there are only so many places I could have seen one and he will suspect you anyway?" April suggested.

"Oh no, I really don't think so. You have a lot of friends. You go all over the station. Jon is a great believer in Occum's Razor. If he comes to any conclusion, it will probably be you have a pistol yourself. Who knows? Maybe even this Art had the same thought run through his mind. Why did he decided to turn away and keep walking after he saw something was wrong? Maybe he
thought
you were carrying," he said seriously, putting his hand at his hip, just like April had in fact put her hand to her pocket, facing Art, but with index extended and thumb drawn back like a hammer. That told April he'd seen the security video, as well as the sound recording of their meeting in the corridor, while she slept."If you had been, you would have felt a lot different about the whole thing, wouldn't you?" he said, amused at the idea.

All of it left her with a jumble of way too many difficult questions to sort out, but he picked that moment to cut her questions off, getting up wearily and saying, "Goodnight April."

"Goodnight, Dad. I love you," she said to his back.

She sat considered the way Art
had
tensed up, when she slid her hand in her pocket, but she just couldn't imagine herself as intimidating. She couldn't be, not if she tried. Certainly not to a professional spy and soldier.

Chapter 7

April still wanted some real breakfast, not just a couple dainty sandwiches, but a glance at the com screen clock showed it was getting late. It would be an early lunch if she didn't hustle, so she grabbed her stuff and moved.

It felt good to get back out in the corridors and walk. She put some upbeat music on her earphones, to match her good mood. She caught herself almost skipping to it and checked the impulse to preserve her dignity.

When she got to the entry it was Wanda on the grill instead of Ruby. Breakfast was still available on the hot bar, but she hated to ask anything of Wanda.

"Do you have time to make an omelet?" She asked, hesitantly.

"You want omelets; we make 'em," Wanda allowed.

"Thanks but if you are ever too busy just tell me," she offered.

"Busy all the time," Wanda informed her defensively, quickly tired of chit-chat. "What do you want Girlie?"

"How about a mushroom omelet with asparagus tips and Monterey Jack cheese?"

"It's not a standard," Wanda pointed out, waving at the menu board with a spatula.

"No problem," April said, reaching for her belt pouch to get her residents' card. "You can charge me for a special order."

"Nahhh," Wanda drew out the sound. "I'll just make it. If I do a special I have to punch it in and swipe it. Then it just makes the tally harder at shift's end." She continued complaining, but she was already loading the pan to do it.

"Thanks Wanda," April exclaimed. She knew everything was a problem to Wanda, but the best way to deal with it was to just kill her with kindness.

"It's usually Ruby's shift now, she isn't sick or anything is she?"

"No. I'm staying over 'cause her kid was sick and she wanted to take him to the clinic herself this morning. She should be here any minute. She'll probably have breakfast herself and start right at mid-shift. If we switch at an odd time, the twits in payroll will run out of fingers and toes, before they can add it all up.

"That's really kind of you," She said, seizing on anything positive to compliment her she could find.

"Hey!" Wanda said, swishing the omelet loose in the pan and grabbing a plate. "I'm as healthy as a horse, but you never know. I might be sick tomorrow and need covered." It was about the most social thing April had ever heard her say.