April 2: Down to Earth (16 page)

Once the Homeland agents were trussed up with cable ties, the vid ended.

"How about those Earthies? Are they in trouble for resisting station security?"

"Nah," Easy laughed, "they're in trouble for not getting away with it. They got their butts whooped twice in a few minutes. Once by a little girl and a vacuum rat who didn't look like much and then again by a couple station cops.  Homeland Security looks down on them like rent-a-cops. I'm afraid they'll be lucky to get work doing crowd control at a Dairy Queen opening now. That vid answered your question though. The old cop? He's
good
," Easy smiled.

Chapter 11

Commander Gial was filling out reports, in what was still called the ward room of the
Arch de Ciel
. There was no enlisted men's mess to distinguish it from, because every man aboard was an officer. Even the three who shared duty shifts as cooks. But the traditional usage continued. It was one of the few comfortable places to work on board. He used the thin screen on the wall and avoided his so called cabin, which was just slightly larger than a hot slot rental bed and was only spacious compared to a coffin. The coffee maker was just behind the head of the table, so he didn't have to bother someone to run it to his quarters. They were on long count to leave and he had a new man Émile on lock watch, guarding the dock entry to the vessel. He had a senior man Anton, unobtrusively keeping a watch on the newbie as a backup.

When he got a call from the new man, it rang alarm bells in his mind. "Commander, we have visitors on the dock, asking permission to come aboard," the newbie reported to him. That was unusual and he decided to see for himself. The older officer should have stepped in and handled the matter, unless it really did require his attention. He shut the screen down and clipped his coffee to the table edge. The deck inside the lock was small, because most of that level was taken up with storage. Not only was it close to the main lock, with the biggest dimensions to make loading quick, but it was at the center of gravity of the ship. That meant laying in, or using supplies, changed the moment arms of the ship less. The trade off, was proximity to the lock made theft easier, so there was extensive security for all the bins and lockers, including being within sight of the live guard. The older man doing back up, could reasonably be there doing inventory, so the new man didn't necessarily know he was being evaluated and baby-sat.

When Gial got there though, his experienced hand, Anton, had given up any pretext of disinterest and had joined Émile at the lock. The official guard was standing legs spread and toes in a grab bar, so he was basically filling the doorway, facing out inside the lock. This was the only lock on the vessel large enough for a man to stand in without bending over. He had on not a full dress uniform, but a duty uniform that included colorful insignia, not muted or camouflaged for combat and a bright beret, but no gloves or special dress belt or holster. He wore a pistol in an open, functional holster.

The senior man had joined him at the lock, oriented the opposite way, off center a bit. He had no weapon, but what you could not see from the dock side, was a short submachine gun racked on the inner side of the hull, beside the lock's outer doors. That was at Anton's feet, or the guard's overhead, accessible to them both.

Outside were two men, an older and a younger, in casual clothing. The young one was clutching a small bag and looked frankly frightened. The older had a large soft bag, that must have a sticky bottom, because it was on the deck at his feet and wasn't drifting off.

"Hello I am Gial DeCuir, Master," He offered his hand to the older fellow and got a gentle touch to his palm that said the man had been above the atmosphere a long time, for it to be so natural.

"I'm Christian Mackay of station security and this is my co-worker Dan Holt. We're seeking asylum on your vessel. We expect to be arrested shortly by Homeland Security on political charges, if we can't get off the station. I'm afraid if you don't offer us shelter, our lives will be forfeit. There's not another foreign vessel at dock since the
Happy Lewis
departed and you are our only hope."

"My! political charges?" Gial wondered aloud. "Do you know specifically what sort of political charges? They're not just ordinary criminal charges?" He wanted it spelled out very clearly. He wasn't interested in helping someone evade justice.

"We received notice on our pads to turn ourselves in for arrest. We are accused of treason, armed rebellion, assault of Federal officers, acting as unregistered foreign agents, conspiracy, unlawful flight, harboring and aiding fugitives, association with terrorist organizations, abuse of prisoners, dereliction of duty and theft of government property." He stopped and smiled, incongruously. "That's just today," he added. "And we
are
fleeing arrest. Successfully so far."

Gial liked it in a fellow, that he could joke while the hangman slipped the noose on.

"So are any of these other charges true? He asked seriously.

"Yes, I have stolen my Taser here," he said patting it. "Or at least I will, if I take it off the station. I'd understand if you don't want it on your ship. I'd be happy to just lay it on the dock, but I thought I might need it to get here." He suddenly figured something out from Gail's manner. "You haven't been monitoring the news services, have you?"

"Well, no. Not at all..." he was starting to reply, but the fellow whipped out his com pad and told it, "Retrieve news - BBC - Space - National Geographic - NLV - confrontation." He turned it around and offered it to Gial. Gial noted that the younger man Dan was getting very nervous, looking down the docks. Also his own man, Émile, did not allow himself to be distracted from his duty, to look at the pad. That was excellent.

He watched video on the pad, as April and her friend Don he had met earlier, disarmed the two Earth agents, then the fight between these two station cops in front of him and the same agents.

"That's it?" he asked incredulous. "As far as I can see you were following procedure. Is this all the charges are based on? I don't see how you could have accepted their identity, when their papers were gone before you arrived. Are you sure you don't want to go back and defend yourselves? It seems to me they have a poor case."

"If we could count on the rule of law anymore we would. But we humiliated these agents and they depend on fear to operate, not law. We'd never get to stand before a judge. They'll have to make an example of us and I have no desire to be their prisoner. We've had to work with these people and heard too many bragging stories about how they break prisoners, or just make them disappear. I'm too old for that. I'd never survive."

"Where would you want to go?" Gial asked. "We have no accommodations for passengers and a duty schedule to follow. If I take you aboard, it will probably create all sorts of diplomatic problems, way beyond my level of authority."

Christian spread his hands in supplication, looking terribly sad. "We'll go to any port not under USNA authority. We'll transfer to any non-USNA ship that will take us from you. We would like to end up in Home eventually, but we'll go to France, or even to Luna, if that's where we can go now. We can even pay for passage if that makes it easier, but we're asking for humanitarian reasons. Surely your country will give refuge if a man reasonably expects to be tortured and killed. What are the European Union Laws?" he asked.

Gial realized he didn't know. He'd never had a refugee situation, before. That was more an Earth problem and he wasn't trained for it. He might be in bigger trouble, for refusing the man for all he knew.

Three men came easing down the dock, pulling themselves along the hand rail. The young man Dan in front of him looked ready to bolt, but Christian laid a hand on his forearm and calmed him. Once he was sure the young man wouldn't run, he picked his bag up. He made no move for his weapon at all.

The lead man of the three landed tight between the station cops, smiling in satisfaction. The other two landed on each side. "You two are under arrest. You're to be transported groundside to be interrogated, which is a personal disappointment for me, but you'll have the joy of my company until I put you on a shuttle." He had a hasty bandage taped on his nose, still dark with blood that kept seeping and a wad of cotton in one nostril. It gave his voice a nasal twang. Gial knew from the video he'd been stunned just three hours ago, on top of having his nose broken, so he must have a throbbing headache. All of them had been stunned in training and he knew you didn't just shrug it off this quickly. Of course the other agent was much worse off, probably in a hospital bed for a few days.

The bandaged one had a plastic cable restraint in his left hand and their manner said all three were confident these two had no place to run. First though he said, "I'll take that," and reached across him, to relieve Christian of his bag. Rather than yield it, Chris gave it a straight arm shove, than made it hit and stick on the deck beside Émile, inside the lock. The Earth agent had a look of irritation flash across his face and he casually backhanded Christian across the face hard, with a long sweeping slap he made no attempt to hide coming.

He knew Chris was in no position to duck, or defend himself and he did it with such obvious relish that it shocked Gial, despite what he had just been told about the Security goons. Everyone froze for a heartbeat at the loud crack. Chris swayed back on his foot hold, but held on. The side of his face was instantly bright red.

"It's going to be a long wait for the shuttle smart ass. A long
hard
wait for you." He bent over into the lock and grabbed the bag straps

As he leaned over and into the ships volume, Émile mirrored his motion with his pistol, bringing it up and out, without hesitation or consultation. Jamming it right between the man's eyes, over the discolored bandage. The Click! Click! Click! of him rolling the hammer back with his thumb, was amazingly loud. The Earthie froze and appeared to be holding his breath.

"You have crossed the line, into our sovereign vessel, sir," he informed him. "If you so much as twitch funny, I will blow your damn brains back over the line, to join your worthless ass."

That wasn't exactly the official protocol for challenging a trespass. But Gial was so impressed with the junior's decisiveness and the effectiveness of his heart felt delivery, that he decided to let it pass. He was concerned though, as he could see his finger on the trigger. It indicated how very close to shooting he was, as he was trained in trigger discipline. Meanwhile, Anton had leaned over and scooped up the submachine gun from its rack and was nestling it in his arms. That chilled any silly ideas the other two had.

"Gentleman, your weapons," Gial demanded, with a double snap of his fingers to hurry them up. They produced two pistols very slowly, eyeballing the machine gun and offered them reluctantly by finger and thumb, across the threshold. He accepted them and reached across and relieved the bent over agent of his also. "My, you fellows must buy these by huge lots, the way you run through them, remembering how April and Don had taken the man's weapons just hours ago. Msr. Burnet," he addressed Émile formally, "I don't wish to take your prisoner aboard. Would you remove him from our space and we'll let his invasion go in this instance."

"Let go la valise and
back off,
bite," Émile instructed through bared teeth, mixing languages in his anger, barely controlling himself. He was visibly on the edge, breathing harshly and face red.

The agent uncurled his fingers from the bag handles and eased upright and out of their vessel's interior space slowly. The pistol stayed pressed between his eyes, helping push him all the way back, until Émile's arm was extended straight. Then he eased it back, but didn't lower it. Gial didn't blame the Earthie's caution. Émile had so much pressure on the trigger he was still scared he might shoot him accidentally.

"Msr. Beckett," he addressed Anton, "please precede me to the bridge and sound Duty Stations – Battle and prepare to undock. As soon as we seal up here, I'd like you to inform local control we are undocking and I'll join you up there by the time you take us on thrusters beyond the local control limit."

He nodded to the station police. "If you two would be pleased to come aboard, you have my leave. You'll have to show me what's in your baggage, for the safety of my vessel and I can't guarantee where I can take you, but I won't hand you over to these swine."

"Thank you," Christian said, pushed off carefully through the edge of the lock to avoiding interfering with both crewman and rolled over to land on the far bulkhead. He took hold facing back to them. The younger man shoved off with a panicked leap and piled into the locker doors opposite in a heap, so that his friend had to snag him and his bag, that were drifting away. He lost control completely, covering his face with both hands, sobbing softly, ashamed and trying to hide and stifle it.

"We're undocking very quickly," Gial informed the three still outside his lock. "I suggest you dog this hatch yourselves, if you don't want the section blown to vacuum. Not that I care for you personally." Anton took that as a signal to slap the door closure, without direct order and two curved sections slid quickly shut from top and bottom, of the opening, then pivoted outward as they almost touched, sealing with a solid thud. Anton returned the gun to its rack and drew a couple restraining bands across it, leaving quickly to carry out his maneuvering orders.

"Émile, take this man to my cabin and secure him for boost and have the medical officer administer a sedative, if he concurs it is needed. Then assume your duty station."

"You're safe now," he assured the young man touching his shoulder. He nodded his understanding, but still couldn't regain his composure. "Just stay in my bunk while we maneuver and we'll be along to help you soon. Use the head if you have need first." Émile helped him away, guiding him.

"Are they that terrible? He asked Christian, unbelieving despite the evidence of his eyes, "or is he overreacting?"