Rock Killer (16 page)

It was about an hour before an old electric stopped and a man got out. She recognized Harris Beatty: the man Mitchel said had violent crimes in his resume. He was bigger than his picture had led her to believe. She guessed he was over 200 centimeters and a hundred kilos of muscle. He had wavy blond hair and pale blue eyes. His features were melting pot American WASP. If his face wasn’t so hard, Charlie would have found him attractive.

He looked around, spotted Charlie, and walked over.

“Shari Johnson?” he asked in a way that demanded an immediate response.

“Yes,” Charlie said, trying not to sound too nervous.

Perhaps he’d dismiss nervousness as natural for the situation.

“Get in the car,” Beatty ordered and walked back to the vehicle. Charlie followed and climbed in. The car moved silently away.

“It’s really great to be here,” Charlie said lightly.

Beatty just snorted.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Beatty,” he replied simply.

“Where we going?”

“Covina.”

“Where’s that?”

“East.”

Tired of the monosyllabic answers, Charlie relaxed and watched the traffic. That was easy–it moved about ten miles an hour. When they stopped to pay a toll on the freeway, Charlie noticed that the machine punched a card that Beatty carried.

“What’s that card?” Charlie asked Beatty.

“Road use ration card,” he said.

“Couldn’t they automate that?” Charlie wondered out loud. She knew automatic tolling had been around since the 1990s.

Beatty shrugged, making it obvious he didn’t care.

The rest of the trip neither spoke. They pulled off the freeway and, after paying another toll and getting the card punched, drove through a housing suburb to a subdivision.

Charlie decided, based on the architecture, that it was built circa 2010. The houses were pretty dilapidated.

Beatty pulled the car into the driveway of one of the houses. It was a larger house but seemed more run down than the rest of the neighborhood.

He got out of the car, plugged it in, and led Charlie inside the house.

***

“The asteroid tender is slow,” Knecht explained. She shut down the drive on the
Rock Killer
after getting it into an orbit around the sun. To any radar beam that might happen to wander across it, the ship would appear a very small asteroid. “It’ll take two weeks, about, for the tender to get here.”

“When was it supposed to leave?” Cole asked.

“A few days ago,” Knecht explained, “if they didn’t change their plans.”

“That’s why we burned their computer,” Griffin said. “So there’s no chance they’d know what we accessed.”

“How long after the tender arrives at the asteroid before it’s moved?” Cole asked.

“Another two weeks, about,” Griffin said.

“So we have nothing to do for a month?” Cole asked, exasperated.

“We’ll have to rendezvous with that miner,” Griffin said. “Until then, you can get those missiles working.”

Cole flushed. She’d had some problems she hadn’t anticipated and was having to jury-rig some components.

“Shoulda brought more books,” Trudeau grumbled sourly. And he meant books; heavy, bulky paper things that all could have been easily transported on a tablet weighing less than a half a kilo.

“This ship was ready to go. We had to take it then.”

Griffin explained. “While we’re stuck here I want every component of this ship checked. Knecht, do what you can with the engines.”

“There’s schematics in the computer,” Knecht said. “I can do a lot.”

“Good. Trudeau, see about communications and make sure the secure gear’s working. If the GA calls I want to be sure we get it. Okay?”

“Right,” Trudeau replied, a little less enthusiastically than Griffin would have liked.

“I’m going to get some rest, right now,” Knecht said. “I’m beat.” She’d been navigating the
Rock Killer
to the asteroid belt without relief. She was able to sleep some, but had been bent over her computer all her waking hours.

“Okay,” Griffin said.

Knecht pulled herself down the ladder to the deck below the bridge. Griffin had set up residence in the captain’s quarters, leaving the crew’s berth for the other three. Knecht went in and undressed. She zippered herself into the shower, her head stuck out the top, and cleaned herself.

She stepped out of the shower and was drying when she heard a noise behind her. She turned to see Cole hovering by the door.

Knecht wasn’t startled; casual nudity was the norm in both this ship and the GA safe house in Los Angeles.

“Maddie,” Knecht said simply in greeting.

“Hi, Barb,” Cole replied. She watched as Knecht completed drying.

“We haven’t had time to get to know each other, Barb,” Cole said.

Knecht wondered what Cole wanted. “Yes,” she replied. She pulled out fresh clothes from the small pack she’d brought on board with her and started dressing which, in free fall, was harder than it looked.

“Linda said that she recruited you into the Alliance?”

“Yes.”

“Were you and Linda close?”

Knecht looked at Cole. S
o, that’s what this is about
, she thought. “No, not really.” Linda Trent tended to bring her lovers into the GA.

“We were,” Cole mentioned, trying to sound casual.

“Oh,” Knecht said, also trying to sound indifferent.

“Why did you join the GA?” Cole asked.

“Trent told me about the dangers to the environment. I’ve always heard about it on the news, but didn’t realize it was as bad as it is.”

“Oh,” Cole tossed out casually.

Knecht could tell the fat woman was disappointed. She’d hoped that Knecht had joined because of Linda. She was sure that was why Cole joined.

“I really believe in the work of the GA,” Knecht continued. “Once in the house in Los Angeles, I learned to hate SRI, and the capitalists like them that are destroying the planet. We have to stop SRI at all costs.” Knecht hadn’t planned to make a speech. She really did hate Space Resources Incorporated, but Cole should know that already.

“I know,” Cole said.

“I will stop SRI no matter what it takes.”

“Me, too,” Cole droned.

The women looked at each other. Knecht wasn’t sure, but she thought Cole looked disappointed. But Knecht had learned that love meant allowing someone to hurt you, no matter the gender of the lover. Even if she liked Cole, which she didn’t, she wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

“Listen, Maddie, I need to get some rest. And you need to work on the missiles.”

“You’re right,” Cole said. “Sleep well.” She turned clumsily in free fall, and moved out of the room.

***

Alex spent a large portion of his days on administration duties. Sometimes he wondered if SRI wasn’t going to suffocate in a morass of paperwork. Of course, there was very little actual paper involved, but time spent at his computer was time away from his people.

Alex was working in his quarters when the door chime rang softly. He was one of the few on the ship with a private room.

“Come in,” Alex called, actually relieved to have an excuse to stop talking to the computer.

Diana Vuilard walked in. She was in her gray technician uniform and her long hair was under control with a few strategically placed fasteners. “Sorry for the interruption, Director,” she said. “May we talk?”

“Sure,” Alex replied. “Close the door; sit down.”

She did, with grace: not easy in the low gravity.

“Director,” she started. Alex found it interesting that the other night in the bar he was “Alex” and now, both in uniform, he was “Director.”

“How well,” she continued, “do you know Bill?”

“Thorne? Pretty well,” Alex said, wondering what this was about. “We’ve worked together a lot.”

“He seems kinda old to still be only security chief.”

“I don’t know,” Alex said lightly, although she was right. “But there’s nothing wrong with security chief.”

“No–but you’re younger than him and you’re a director.”

“Yes?” Alex prodded.

“Well, Director,” she said quietly. “I’ve heard rumors.”

“About what?”

“About trouble he got into years ago. They say you were involved.”

Alex hesitated. Diana’s questions were bringing up old, painful memories. “Why do you ask? That was a long time ago.” A
lmost 18 years
, Alex thought. And it still hurt, damn it.

“We’ve grown close the past couple of days,” she answered.

Shipboard romance
, Alex thought. He hoped this kid was mature enough to handle it.

“But then some others told me stories,” she went on. “I don’t care if they’re true or not, but I’d like to know.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Alex said. “Bill made some mistakes when he was younger and they hurt his career. But he’s older and a lot smarter now.”

“They said,” Diana said softly, “something about a murder.”

Again Alex had to wait until his emotions boiled down to normal.

“You tell no one this,” he ordered.

She nodded her concurrence.

“Eighteen years ago, Thorne and I were in security on an asteroid, just security men.” He didn’t add that Mitchel was the security chief on that rock. “Thorne had an affair with the director’s wife who worked in life support. Either he was a bad husband or she was a bad wife; it doesn’t matter. The director tried to kill Thorne. His first attempt he killed my friend, Joey Hernandez, by accident.” Alex watched Diana’s expression go from surprise to shock to pity.

“The second attempt,” Alex continued, “I tried to stop him and accidentally amputated the director’s arm. The whole messy incident promoted my career and slowed Thorne’s. And for years I blamed him for Joey’s death. But after we worked together a few times, I discovered he’s a good man who made a dumb mistake. But haven’t we all?” This last brought memories of Theresa Gold bubbling up again. D
amn
, Alex thought,
you’d think I’d get through a day without feeling guilty about that
.

While Alex contemplated his past, Diana thought for a moment or two.

“Thanks,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I really like Bill. I didn’t want to have doubts.”

“I hope I’ve helped,” Alex said.

“You have, Director. I have to go back to work. Diane will be wondering what I’m doing.”

“What does she have you doing?”

“Emergency procedures drills,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She says at turn-around we’re going to have an emergency shutdown drill in actual free fall.”

“That’s a good idea,” Alex said cheerfully. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No,” she answered, standing carefully so as not to have her feet leave the floor. “Thanks, Director.”

“No problem, Diana.”

***

Mitchel talked to his computer. “Projecting normal use for four persons, when will the
Rock Skipper
need to resupply?”

The computer displayed “mar 14-17.” It was the tenth.

“Computer, transcribe message.”

A small icon appeared in the corner.

“To: Head of Security McKenna, Ceres station. Sue, the
Rock Skipper
will need provisions in the next week. Independent miners are the logical source. Investigate using any means you can to get information on the
Rock Skipper
. Mr. Kijoto authorized unlimited funds for this investigation.

“Stop transcribing.” Mitchel looked at the text on the screen. Light speed delay made conversations impractical and sending text rather than voice would save bandwidth. Satisfied with his message he told the computer to send it. The computer displayed an acknowledgement.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Mitchel told himself.

***

The problem with these trips
, Thorne thought,
is the same problem of peacetime armies
. The only thing to do was drill in the skills one assumed one needed in case of war; or on the asteroid, in security’s case. But the repetitious training was demoralizing and it was Thorne’s job to make sure the security personnel took it seriously. It made him less than popular with his own subordinates. Once they got on the asteroid and started working the animosity would evaporate, to be replaced by a mutually respectful and amicable working relationship. For that reason, he socialized outside security. Diana Vuilard had been a godsend. After spending the day with his recalcitrant security people, the genuine affection he had felt from the tall, attractive blonde improved his disposition considerably.

But in the last couple of days she’d turned off the relationship like a bad entertainment program. So he was re-reading Niven in the quarters he shared with the asteroid’s doctor.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said, expecting a subordinate with a problem.

Diana walked in. She had replaced her technician uniform with a clinging dress. In the low gravity the skirt was trying its best to indecently expose her.

“Diana,” he said, surprised.