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Authors: S. Evan Townsend
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asteroid. Charlie wasn’t sure if she’d turned it down because she resented the help or because she was afraid she couldn’t do the job.
The dress arrived by robotic courier a few minutes later. A message on her computer indicated her appointment with Mitch was in an hour. Charlie dressed, fixed her hair, and put on makeup, enjoying the luxury of feminine things again.
She left the room and took the elevator to the hundred and thirtieth floor. There were two men on the elevator. She noticed they were strangely quiet.
She had to wait a few minutes in Mitch’s outer office but that gave her a chance to chat with Meyoung before she showed Charlie in.
The office was expansive. One wall was a window with a view of Tokyo and the bay to drive any acrophobic batty. Another wall was a computer screen. The other two were almost bare except for a few mementos of Mitchel’s SRI career.
Mitchel smiled when he saw Charlie. His eyes started with her feet and moved up. Mitchel was a big man and looked as uncomfortable in a business suit as he looked out of place.
“Charlie,” he said coming around the desk and giving her a friendly hug. “You’re looking good. Damn good. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Charlie said with a chuckle that may have been a bit forced.
He inspected her neck. “Your scar looks better–barely noticeable. I hear you almost didn’t make it back to the airlock.”
“Yes. Smitty saved me.” She said it as a flat statement.
“You shouldn’t have gone back alone. If Smitty hadn’t heard your suit blow on the radio
“He didn’t detail the results.
“I know,” Charlie replied. “Rodriguez gave me the same lecture.”
Mitchel smiled. “Okay, enough of that.” He returned to behind his desk and Charlie took a chair. When she crossed her legs her skirt fell open, exposing an almost indecent amount of her strong, tawny limbs. Charlie suspected it was designed that way.
Mitchel said, “I’m sorry about Frank’s death. I know it’s locking the door after the horse has escaped, but I think this will finally convince Kijoto to let us use auto-loaders. I told him the time spent pumping his weapon may have cost Frank his life and SRI the Rock Skipper . I know he was trying to minimize the violence, but our security people need that option. I’m looking into an HK twelve gauge that has select-fire: pump or auto-load.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. How are you doing, really?”
“Okay, really,” Charlie said softly. “I loved Frank; we were going to marry.”
“I know.”
“But life in space is dangerous. We all accept that,” she added with conviction.
“But space didn’t kill Frank.”
Mitchel could see Charlie’s chocolate skin redden. “I know,” she growled, barely containing her anger.
“I feel somewhat responsible,” Mitchel said with a frown.
Charlie looked at him, surprised.
“When I called that night, we had information that the Syrians were up to something. I wanted to warn Frank. But I put off calling until something was confirmed. I should have called earlier. Frank would have been prepared.”
“What did you have?”
“Elisa Morgan had information out of Damascus that the Baathists were smuggling arms onto the Moon for some terrorist group. We had some agents in Mirbat–where the Syrians launch their ship–look into it. They didn’t find anything, so I didn’t give it priority. I should have called earlier, anyway.”
“You couldn’t know,” Charlie said. “You can’t know what idiots such as the Gaia Alliance will do.”
They were quiet for a moment, each tangling with their respective ghosts.
“Look at this,” Mitchel finally said, touching his computer. A picture appeared on the far wall, a composite of six photographs that looked like mug shots. “Rodriguez sent that from the Moon. Those are the passport photos of who NESA thinks attacked us. You’re the only one to see one of the terrorists and live. Any of those look
The dress arrived by robotic courier a few minutes later. A message on her computer indicated her appointment with Mitch was in an hour. Charlie dressed, fixed her hair, and put on makeup, enjoying the luxury of feminine things again.
She left the room and took the elevator to the hundred and thirtieth floor. There were two men on the elevator. She noticed they were strangely quiet.
She had to wait a few minutes in Mitch’s outer office but that gave her a chance to chat with Meyoung before she showed Charlie in.
The office was expansive. One wall was a window with a view of Tokyo and the bay to drive any acrophobic batty. Another wall was a computer screen. The other two were almost bare except for a few mementos of Mitchel’s SRI career.
Mitchel smiled when he saw Charlie. His eyes started with her feet and moved up. Mitchel was a big man and looked as uncomfortable in a business suit as he looked out of place.
“Charlie,” he said coming around the desk and giving her a friendly hug. “You’re looking good. Damn good. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Charlie said with a chuckle that may have been a bit forced.
He inspected her neck. “Your scar looks better–barely noticeable. I hear you almost didn’t make it back to the airlock.”
“Yes. Smitty saved me.” She said it as a flat statement.
“You shouldn’t have gone back alone. If Smitty hadn’t heard your suit blow on the radio
“He didn’t detail the results.
“I know,” Charlie replied. “Rodriguez gave me the same lecture.”
Mitchel smiled. “Okay, enough of that.” He returned to behind his desk and Charlie took a chair. When she crossed her legs her skirt fell open, exposing an almost indecent amount of her strong, tawny limbs. Charlie suspected it was designed that way.
Mitchel said, “I’m sorry about Frank’s death. I know it’s locking the door after the horse has escaped, but I think this will finally convince Kijoto to let us use auto-loaders. I told him the time spent pumping his weapon may have cost Frank his life and SRI the Rock Skipper . I know he was trying to minimize the violence, but our security people need that option. I’m looking into an HK twelve gauge that has select-fire: pump or auto-load.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. How are you doing, really?”
“Okay, really,” Charlie said softly. “I loved Frank; we were going to marry.”
“I know.”
“But life in space is dangerous. We all accept that,” she added with conviction.
“But space didn’t kill Frank.”
Mitchel could see Charlie’s chocolate skin redden. “I know,” she growled, barely containing her anger.
“I feel somewhat responsible,” Mitchel said with a frown.
Charlie looked at him, surprised.
“When I called that night, we had information that the Syrians were up to something. I wanted to warn Frank. But I put off calling until something was confirmed. I should have called earlier. Frank would have been prepared.”
“What did you have?”
“Elisa Morgan had information out of Damascus that the Baathists were smuggling arms onto the Moon for some terrorist group. We had some agents in Mirbat–where the Syrians launch their ship–look into it. They didn’t find anything, so I didn’t give it priority. I should have called earlier, anyway.”
“You couldn’t know,” Charlie said. “You can’t know what idiots such as the Gaia Alliance will do.”
They were quiet for a moment, each tangling with their respective ghosts.
“Look at this,” Mitchel finally said, touching his computer. A picture appeared on the far wall, a composite of six photographs that looked like mug shots. “Rodriguez sent that from the Moon. Those are the passport photos of who NESA thinks attacked us. You’re the only one to see one of the terrorists and live. Any of those look
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