April (80 page)

"Tonga?" Allen asked.

"Yes, we are contracted now with Mitsubishi for your supply run, since the USNA has a little problem lifting it. Seems da still don't want to cause a fuss by using a Japanese shuttle. So Mother's Pride was reflagged to us, along with another shuttle."

"Oh my, do you have coffee in your cargo? You can ask anything you want if that's true. We'll carry you through the corridors on our shoulders and strew rose petals before you, when you step on our lowly deck. Does your second have a name Kaihau?"

"She my cousin Peggy. I try to keep her from tearing up you station too bad on lay over. She don't yet got no reputation here yet, da people know to beware." She was really laying the Pidgin accent thing on a little thick, but she found the guys liked it. If she forgot she'd drop back into straight Midwestern American English.

"Peggy." Allen repeated, expecting something a little more exotic and fascinated at the implied warning. "Mother's Pride, you are cleared for automated approach for docking collar three, on our South Hub. Please be aware we still don't have pressure outside our gate bearing from battle damage, so you have to suit up."

Then he thought about something. "Uh ladies, if you are an armed merchant, would you please confirm your weapons safed for dock? That's such a new thing we don't have any procedures, but it seems worth reminding you. Also, if I may invite you ladies to dinner this evening, it would be my pleasure. We're very happy for your company."

"He wants to take us
both
out tonight?" a laughing voice, that must be Peggy, asked in the background. "I think I'm going to like this port. He sound like my greedy-gut brother John, who got two wife, ana girlfriend at home. Don't you worry Honey. We don't got no finger on the trigger. Da hung the missiles on the side, away from the docking collar – 'case we need shoot 'em from dock 'fore we fly. So da don't bump nothin' never."

* * *

"Mr. Davis?" the older lady on the screen inquired.

"Yes, that's me. What can we do for you?"

"My name is Martha Wiggen. I am, or rather I was, Postmaster General of the United States of North America. As far as we can determine that makes me the highest surviving Federal official, outside the official succession to the office of President of the Republic and I have been so sworn. Will you speak with me about terms of surrender, to end our war with the nation of Home?"

"No. I'm sorry Madam. It is the expectation of the electorate here, we will seek an unconditional surrender. Anything else would be cumbersome and require rounds of voting from our entire population, before it could be formulated. However I believe if you accept that and surrender, you will find we are not cruel."

"We have refrained from deliberately bombarding your fault lines to trigger seismic activity and we have avoided damaging your power plants or power grids, with winter near, out of consideration for your civilian population. Can you seek authority to surrender without terms?"

"I already have such authority," she said, hanging her head sadly. "It just seemed sensible to at least ask for terms first. However, I now offer an unconditional surrender, on whatever terms you may wish to impose," she said, in a small voice.

"Thank you, Madam President. The Armed Merchant
Home Boy
is clearing Asia to cross the Pacific and will come over our horizon behind us in about five minutes. We will contact them before they over fly your territory again and cease bombardment. So within minutes you should expect no further hostilities. It's over. The first condition we'll require is you do not lift any vessel or weapon to orbit for now, from the Continent or your other worldwide military assets, including wet navy. We will allow you to resume unarmed supply launches soon."

"The second condition is you declare a full amnesty to anyone held, who is accused of acting on our behalf during this conflict, or is being called a criminal over matters to do with the war, or any political questions. We expect no restrictions on anyone who wishes to travel to Home, from or through North America. We'll expand on those and I'll try to be reasonable. If you feel any of the conditions you are given are particularly onerous, or can explain why a particular policy is simply a bad idea for either of us in the long run, tell me why and I'll be willing to discuss it."

* * *

"Do you want to take a chance on it?"  Friedman asked Brockman, with a great deal of doubt evident in his voice. He had a hard print copy of the small town weekly paper, for which they had paid cash at the grocery. It had a front page piece about the amnesty, he had read aloud. "I'd like to do a little more hunting first," he admitted. "You have the carving to finish up that's looking good and I've almost finished reading all the Hemingway and Follet your friend had in the cabin. If there is any problem with the amnesty being false, let's let somebody else find out about it for us."

"What say we come back to town in another two weeks and see what the paper says then? No hurry at all. They may grant us amnesty, but we're both still going to be out on the sidewalk and unemployable. We may as well enjoy the vacation, because I suspect we'll have to move to Home or the European Union, to have anything like a normal life again. I'd be too afraid to stay on this Continent, because some angry patriot might shoot me dead on the street, just as a personal matter, without government sanction."

"Sounds good to me. I've grown as suspicious as you are now. They may still be a little more upset with us, than somebody who say, told his Aunt Tilde he thought they should just leave Home alone, where a Homeland Defender could overhear. I mean we did shoot the friggin' President. And I still haven't learned everything I can about pistol from you."

Epilogue July 12, 2084 - ISSII

On ISSII Don Adams came off shift and stripped his suit off at his work locker. He had fueled two ships and helped off load a French tanker for the fuel stocks held in shaded bladders, so he was tired. It was the end of his work week. Three days off, two more week cycles and he'd have his semi-annual leave and have to decide if he would skip it again, or make the effort to go somewhere. He had a good scratch for the first time in twelve hours and stuffed a couple NO-STINK-UM® bags in his suit, for whatever good they might do.

He threw a paper jump suit over his suit liner and was going to walk home and shower there. He was trying to decide if he wanted to buy a bag of beer and just relax, because tomorrow wasn't a work day, or if he should ask Sheila to go to dinner with him. It was near the end of the month and he really shouldn't spend the money to do both. His crappy supervisor came through and handed him a stiff oversize envelope. He wasn't expecting anything and nobody had sent him a card for years.

 "Came for you postal mail today Adams. Is it your birthday or something?" he sneered. "Can't be legal papers, because the server hands those right to you." He trying too hard to sound snarky, but it was weak. He was just a jerk and didn't stick around waiting for a reply, that Don wasn't going to bother making anyway. The man had been peeved ever since he couldn't get Don fired, after the hostilities last October. Their relationship had not improved at all in the months since.

It surprised him to get anything at work, instead of his cubic and there was the sticky stub still attached, where a return receipt had been ripped off. He slit under the flap corner and opened it carefully. Paper mail was so rare, he might want to keep whatever it was nice.

Inside were three items. A glossy stiff picture on tough archival stock, with an extra stiffener to keep it undamaged. It showed the bunch who crewed the
Happy Lewis,
the day he had helped them. They were in pressure, in front of a much changed ship, hanging on a service rack, all of them in off duty clothing instead of P-suits. They had all signed it with a fine felt tip on the back and Eddie had written : "We looked on the hatch like you told us. Thank you. Come visit Home anytime."

There was also a red debit card made out to his name, with a Credit Suisse Gold logo embossed on the face and an ID taster with the protective pull tab still over it waiting for him to peel and touch.

Folded over under it, was an old fashioned currency size deposit ticket, like you'd get at a teller's window Earthside. Something he had not seen in years. He looked at it and sat there for a long time, thinking about how he had just pondered whether he should buy a bag of beer. The slip was for ten million EuroMarks.

End

©  2004  Mackey Chandler

The Last Part : Other Books and Links by Mackey Chandler

Down to Earth (sequel to April)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007RGBIVK

April seems to make a habit of rescues. Now two lieutenants from the recent war appeal to her for help to reach Home. The secret they hold makes their escape doubtful. North America, the United States of North America, has been cheating on their treaty obligations and a public figure like April taking a very visible vacation there would be a good way to remind them of their obligations. Wouldn't it? Her family and business associates all think it is a great idea. She can serve a public purpose and do her rescue on the sly too. But things get difficult enough just getting back Home alive is going to be a challenge. It's a good thing she has some help. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

The Middle of Nowhere (third in April series)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Middle-Nowhere-April-ebook/dp/B00B1JJ7RQ

April returns home from her trip down to Earth unhappy with what she accomplished. Papa-san Santos is finishing her rescue of the Lieutenants, Her traitorous brother is dead and so many things are uncertain. The Chinese and North Americans both continue to give her and Home a hard time. But April, Jeff and Heather are gathering allies and power. China, trying to steal Singh technology, gets its hand slapped badly by Jeff and the Patriot Party in America is damaged, but not gone. Their project on the moon is not so easy for North America to shut down, especially with the Russians helping. Heather proves able to defend it forcefully. They really didn't know she owns a cannon. The three have their own bank now, Home is growing and April is quickly growing up into a formidable young woman, worthy of her partners.

Paper or Plastic?

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004RCLW68

Roger was medically discharged after his service in the Pan Arabic Protectorate, cutting off his chosen career path early. He is living in rural Sitra Falls, Oregon trying to deal with hyper-vigilance and ease back into civilian life.

When an unusual looking young woman enters his favorite breakfast place he befriends her. Little does he know he'll kill for her before lunch and start an adventure that will take him around the world and off planet.

When you have every sort of alphabet agency human and alien hunting for you survival is the hard part. But you might as well get rich too.

Family Law

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS

You know people who love their dogs. They put them in their will. They forgo vacations to stay home and take care of them.

Can a dog love back or is it simple self interest? Affection or love? Unconditional or a meal-ticket? What if you dog could talk back? Would your dog be less lovable if he could tell you what he thinks like your spouse? If he complained his kibbles were dry and boring would your affection wear thin? I don't want to touch on what a cat might tell you...

Is the dog part of your family or property? Who should decide that for you? How much more complicated will it be if we meet really intelligent species not human?

Humans don't have a very good history of defending the interests of others. Even variations of their own species. How will they treat 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How will they treat us? Usually the people who answer these sort of questions have no desire to be on the pointy end of things. They are just minding their own business and it is thrust upon them. This story explores those questions

Common Ground and Other Stories

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0050YYVHY

A book size collection of seven short stories by Mackey Chandler. Ranging from single page to novella. The seven shorts contain an alien with a very human foible, a joker Joyboy banished to selling shoes on the moon, a crotchety old man holding aliens at bay with a leaf blower, the ultimate Windoze -FAIL-, a self made billionaire who never lost his touch, a sword wielding Earth diplomat. who was either very very, good or incredibly lucky and a future Mama's boy dealing with family, in an era of extended life times.

Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2

Mac's Writing Blog:

http://www.mackeychandler.com