Claire Takes On The Galaxy

Claire - Chapter Five

Claire and Maddy walked down the street, in the opposite direction from Times Square, past more grey concrete buildings.

“That’s my school,” said Maddy pointing to a long, low building to the left. “The food vat buildings are there.” She pointed to the next building along.

“Just four kids at your school? What ages are we talking about?”

“There’s a four-year-old boy, he’s pre-school, a six-year-old girl, then me, then a fourteen-year-old boy. We each have a virtual reality classroom with virtual friends and virtual teachers – all holographic projections. It looks like a school room on earth with kids and teachers but I can walk through everything, except my own desk.”

Claire did not know what to make of this. “Are your virtual friends at this school… nice?”

“Oh yes. Its real strange. This virtual classroom stuff is the best there is from earth, as they want to keep people here. The four-year-old gets boys who build stuff in the sand pit with him. The six-year-old has friends who giggle and talk about doll houses and ponies and the fourteen year old, who is completely useless by the way, has useless friends who hang out down the back of the classroom with him and ignore the teachers. It deals with all types, but I’m not sure that’s so good for him. There’s even a scary virtual principal, but me and the 14- year-old don’t pay any attention to him. If you could get drugs on Devil’s Pit, Graham, that’s the useless kid, would be into that, but you can’t. Your marines gave him hooch once, and that caused trouble.”

Claire thought that was the second time she had heard the word “hooch” that day.

“If they give him hooch they are not my marines,” she said, “but you didn’t mention the kids you hang out with.”

“I have sensible, nice friends, who do sensible and nice things, because we are sensible and nice,” she said, turning to glare at the sniper.

“Sensible! I understand,” said Claire. “Do they skip out of school when it suits them too?”

“Only when it’s sensible to do so.”

They passed two more buildings and then Maddy pointed to a rambling, flat-topped two-storey building to the right, attached to another, much larger, square building. They turned towards it.

“That’s our home. James will be in his workshop – the big building next to it – fixing transporters for the miners.”

“Is that what he does?”

“He does a lot of stuff. He’s the fix-it man around here. Something goes wrong with the food vats, they call him. A synth has problems, they call him.”

“When did he adopt you?”

“I sort of adopted him. I came out here with two foster parents – I never knew my real parents – but I lost them both to a Shade attack and James found me afterwards. I just stayed with him.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your foster parents but a Shade attack? Aren’t the Shades supposed to be a myth.”

“The miners and townies believe me, but the marine officers don’t because academics back on earth say there’s no proof or something, but I saw ’em and I still have nightmares about shapes with red eyes.”

Before Claire could ask for more details about this they arrived at the James-Maddie home. This was a series of square rooms made out of what Claire took to be concrete slabs slotted into place. Windows and doors had been cut out of the slabs. The interior walls had been given an orange tinge, with that unfortunate color choice relieved by thin panels of plastic on which famous paintings complete with frames had been printed. The hallway had Dutch masters, but the living room was Italian renaissance. A printed copy of the Mona Lisa had pride of place in the separate dining room. The furniture was made out of the same sort of plastic with the same orange tint, but everything was clean and Claire said so.

“I made James shift all the repair stuff to the workshop but also we have a synth cleaning unit,” said Maddie.

“You have a synth?” These were humanoid creatures, part biological and part robot, that came in all sorts of variations to fit the job that had to be done. Each marine company had two, mainly for use in heavy lifting.

“Oh yes, and it’s really a robot, James says, not a proper synthetic. He got it when he fixed a big problem with the mining operation here and they were grateful, so he got them to ship one out. It also helps in the workshop.”

They did the house tour. Claire was surprised to find that the house included a fully-functioning suburban plus-sized in-ground pool in a separate room, made of the same material as the rest of the house. A large window in this pool room looked out on a bleak Devil’s Pit landscape ending in a brown smudge of the valley’s northern cliffs.

“You live well,” commented Claire.

“James says building stuff here is easy. He controls the colony’s building synths and there’s lots of the local concrete. I asked for a balcony once and got one.”

“Balcony?”

Claire was taken to Maddie’s spacious room which was much like any other-eight- year-old’s room, with the inclusion of an en-suite and a large, covered balcony featuring a carved railing that gave the structure an Italian renaissance look. They went out onto it.

“Do you use the balcony much?”

“Not really, mostly it’s too cold to stay out here. I just wanted it because I’d been watching Romeo and Juliet.”

“Isn’t that advanced for you?”

“That’s what James said, but he happened to mention it as a love-tragedy story once, so I got him to sit through a film of it, a 1960s version, with James telling me what they were talking about. I’ve seen it heaps of times by myself, and then I asked if I could have a balcony. I came home from school one day and I had a balcony. James is amazing like that.”

“Do you stand out there and say, ‘wherefore art thou, Romeo?’” asked Claire. Maddie was a person worth knowing, she thought.

“I did once, but it felt dumb.”

“They both kill themselves – not a good end.”

“That’s true. Anyway, the only possible Romeo within a bag of light years is useless Graham, and if he’s out there quoting poetry I’d want to kill myself.”

They retreated to the ground floor. One room next to the living area was a control room c*m study with a desk, bookshelf and several screens, and even sheets of paper here and there. A habit of James was to occasionally write things down. The door was open but Maddie hung back.

“The one time James got upset with me was when I went in there and tapped one of the keyboards. I thought it was a game, but it controlled the reactor.”

From the doorway, Claire could see a framed degree in digital and control engineering on the wall. There were two photographs on the desk, one of James with two older men, father and grandfather, and another with a younger women.

“That’s James’ sister.”

“What about his mother? I don’t see her here.”

“He’s never mentioned her.”

“Does he try to be a dad to you.”

“The school sends texts when I skip out and all James does is forward them to me with a comment like ‘naughty girl’ or ‘bad girl’, and that’s all I hear about it. He’s more like a brother than a dad.”

The tour continued. In the living area the only wall decoration that was not a copy of a famous painting was a framed letter, in pride of place above a chunky, dark-orange sideboard, from a deputy commissioner of the Federated World Police. The letter informed Mr James Eric Truslove that, after discussions with officials of the Federated Space Administration, the FWP would not insist on his return to earth for prosecution over the removal of a number of gold bars from the vaults of the World Reserve bank in the city of New York. If Mr Truslove returned to earth then the FWP would resume its interest in that incident and he would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

“Is this serious?” asked Claire.

“What’s serious?” said James emerging from a door next to the study – the passage to the workshop. He was in overalls this time with his sleeves rolled up. His mouth fell open when he saw Claire. “Oh!” he said.

“I’m having that effect on a lot of men today,” thought Claire.

“Maddie dragged you here, did she?”

“I’ve now got six messages about you being yelled at,” said Maddie looking at her phone again, “and someone has to defend you.”

“There was no need for that,” said James. “I heard May telling off our guest.”

Claire crossed her arms and glared and, in glaring, looked annoyed. Why did she have to be dragged here to apologise?

“You came out of the Dollhouse; after I just found out what it was. What was I to think? I’ve had some bad experiences with men.”

“You look so grumpy,” said James, chuckling. “You poor thing, being marched her by Maddie to apologise. You should have told her to get lost.” He laughed.

Maddie also began laughing then Claire, seeing the joke, joined in. After that, and thanks to Maddie’s determined insistence she stayed for lunch, which also meant that she got to question James.

“The letter says that you’re a thief,” she said over sandwiches.

James smiled. “Now I should be ashamed of myself for being a thief, as well as for visiting the Dollhouse? You’re never going to approve of me, are you Private Williams?”

“If you’ve got that letter does my approval matter?”

James shrugged. “Thief is such a hard, cold word. I prefer to think of myself as an artist in a particular line of work.”

“An artistic thief?”

“There you go with that ‘thief’ word again. I prefer the term criminal. When you say ‘thief’ you make what I did sound almost illegal.”

“It was illegal,” said Claire. The thought crossed her mind that her mother would not approve of James, and she was trying to decide whether that lack of approval mattered.

“The bank had plenty of gold bars just lying around and we didn’t hurt anyone – scared the excrement out of a couple of guards but didn’t hurt them. We left piles of gold behind. Barely worth a fuss.”

“They made enough of a fuss to catch you.”

“The FWP didn’t actually catch me. Technically the investigation is ongoing, and it would’ve been alright if I hadn’t been shopped.”

“Hadn’t what?”

“An insider shopped us, grassed, dropped a dime, turned dog, ratted us out, informed on us. I had enough warning to execute Plan D. I took the place and identity tags of a technician coming here. He had a young family and didn’t want to be away on an extended tour. It took the FSA six months to work out what had happened, and I’d been doing good work here in that time. The compromise was the letter, which also saved the cops the expense of freighting me back just to prosecute me. I’ve been banished from earth.” James chuckled. “Be merciful, say ‘death,’ for exile hath more terror in his look, much more than death. Do not say ‘banishment’.”

“Humph!” said Maddie. “Romeo was terrified he would not be able to see Juliette.”

“He was just banished from a single city, after killing someone,” said James. “There was more to the world than Verona, like the priest says. I’ve been banned from a whole planet, and who cares about a few gold bars anyway?”

After lunch, Maddie thought she would drop in at the school and see what they were doing, and James insisted on walking back to the base with Claire. They left through what James called the tradesman entrance which led to two faint paths.

“That way,” said James, pointing off to the left, “is to the space port buildings. This way is to the marine base. As we’re going by a back path you won’t be seen with one of the sinister townies, and I’m going to the admin block, not the main gate. I have a meeting with your colonel”

“Colonel Murchison?”

“The one and same.”

“What’s the meeting about? Can you say?”

“Last night’s incident in which a couple of The One-Five marines knifed the bouncer Synth and knocked over one of the girls.”

“She got a concussion, May said.”

“No one’s going to be worried about marines making fools of themselves off duty – happens all the time – but when they hurt people and damage machinery the civil authorities meet with the ranking officer, and the civil authorities are me, May and Dog.”

“Dog?”

“Sure, he’s head of the committee and does all the paperwork, so sort-of the town mayor.”

“The mayor is called Dog?”

“Not a bad guy, although I had to warn him to be sober for the meeting. May is a sharp one; worth knowing.”

“Is she also a wanted criminal?”

James chuckled. “You’re finding a lot to disapprove of here, Private Williams, aren’t you? In fact, for May it was a choice between going on witness protection or coming here.”

“Oh!”

“One of the few other kids at school is a four year old, her grandson.”

“Devil’s Pit is quite a place.”

“It has its moments. Here’s where we part – why don’t you and those two friends of yours come and use the pool next Saturday?”

“I dunno..”

“I will invite two of the more presentable miners, not marines. Friends of mine. It’ll be a pool party and lunch. It’s heated. We can play cards, a friendly game or two which means no betting, if you have a mind to.”

“Hmmm! What about Maddie?”

“She can have her virtual friends over.”

“Those computer friends from school?”

“Sure, there’s a holographic projection link in her bedroom. Came as part of the school package – one for each kid. She can have them for sleep overs, but she says that’s too weird.”

“Are they sensible like she says?”

“Her main friend, Ella, seems sensible and nice I guess, but Suri is flaky and Rey is difficult.”

Claire giggled. “Why do the other AI projections put up with Rey?”

“Curious, isn’t it. But look, here is my number. I wouldn’t presume to ask yours. Run the pool party proposal by your friends and see what they say. You’ll be on exercises all this week to get acclimatised I would think, so Saturday would be the earliest.”

Claire took the number, and duly reported the proposal which her friends kicked around for a while before deciding to accept.

“We want to see orange houses with add-on Italian balconies,” said Lou, “not to mention meet hot bad boy foster dads, and maybe a miner or two.”

“We only have the standard issue marine swim suits,” said Adria, “but at least I can lounge decorously in the shallow end.”

Later Lou said, “that was a smooth move by your guy.”

“He’s not my guy,” retorted Claire, “and you mean the party invite?”

“He knew that if he asked you on a date you’d say no. You don’t know him, you’ve just landed and he’s here because he lifted a mess of gold bars. All good reasons for turning him down, even if he is a hot foster dad with no foster mum around.”

“Probably would have,” admitted Claire.

“This way, it’s not about going on a date but it’s a group thing – a party that your entertainment-starved friends can go to, and he will get your number.”

“He will?” said Claire.

“When you call him back of course.”

“Unless you block the number,” said Adria. “Lou’s right, this James person is smarter than the average guy. You want to be on your guard with him.”

“I’m on my guard around all guys,” said Claire.

While the marines were discussing the pool party invitation, James, May and Dog were waiting for Colonel Murchison to see them. Dog was a slight, bearded, older man with lank, dark hair now turning grey. He had heeded James’s warming to say sober for the meeting.

“Did Maddie find the marine who yelled at you?” asked May.

“Oh yes. She all but dragged her to our place to apologise, then insisted she stay for lunch.”

“She was there for lunch? That was fast work.”

“On Maddie’s part, sure, but Private Williams disapproves of me as a thief.”

“Girls don’t mind a bad boy.”

“I tried that angle for years,” said Dog, “but couldn’t get it to work.”

After half an hour Colonel Murchison finally sent word through a headquarters private that he would see them. May, Dog and James filed in to sit in front of the desk of that high-ranking officer – a beefy, round-faced man with a completely shaven head. He always seemed to be in a bad temper. Another officer, a Major Horne, a slim, well-groomed man, sat in on the meeting.

“I don’t have much time, what is this about?” snarled the colonel.

“You know perfectly well what it’s about colonel,” retorted James, taking the lead. “If you don’t you need to fire an aide or two. A member of the One-Five assaulted a civilian and another damaged the security synth.”

“I can’t have marines hurting my girls,” said May.

“Your whores, you mean,” snarled the Colonel.

“My girls are civilians and your marines hurt one.”

“I’ve received no official report of the incident.”

“Official report? I filed one,” said Dog. “With recordings of the incident and names of the marines. What more do you want?”

“The colonel is talking about a report from the base provost,” said Major Horne. “We’ve heard nothing from him.”

“Have you asked him?” said James.

“It’s not up to us to ask our provosts about civilian complaints,” said the colonel.

“You’re kidding?” said James, “that’s a thin excuse, if ever I heard one.”

“It’s not an excuse,” snapped the colonel. “I am following procedure. You people are in no position to lodge formal complaints.” The colonel opened a folder on his desk and started reading. “James Eric Truslove, wanted by the Federated police for a bank robbery involving gold bars worth 27 million in the old US currency of dollars, with your grandfather.” All those at the meeting looked at James. “Interesting choice of a partner in crime.” Colonel Murchison smiled unpleasantly. “Then there is Daniel Oliver Grimes, called Dog, a senior lawyer disbarred on various matters, including drinking.”

“I wasn’t disbarred,” grumbled Dog. “I voluntarily surrendered my practicing licence as part of a settlement.”

“Then there is your wife, Hortense, who escaped jail on serious fraud charges by coming here.”

“A miscommunication about risk-reward profiles,” muttered Dog.

“May Jennifer Hampton from a well-off family who turned informant on her husband, head of an organised crime family. The husband has since met a messy end in jail.”

“Never mind any of this,” snapped James. “It’s not our records that’s at issue here, colonel, but yours. Are you telling us you are unable to enforce discipline among your marines?”

The colonel stopped smiling. “Marine discipline is a matter for marines. I work them hard and if my boys want to let off a little steam afterwards then it’s up to the Dollhouse people to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. I’ll ask Major Horne to speak with the provost sergeant.”

“But one of my girls was hurt!” protested May. “There should be a hearing – a court martial.”

“Do you want us to protest to the Space Administration,” said Dog. “I can write a mean letter of complaint.

“Complain to whoever you like,” snapped the colonel. “Good day to you all. Guard!”

A private who had been stationed outside the door appeared. “Sir!”

“These people are leaving.”

May opened her mouth to protest again but James gestured her not to speak. The three civilians filed out.

“That was interesting,” said James once they were outside and walking back to town.

“Twenty seven million,” said May, “you said just a few gold bars.”

James shrugged. “Well, okay, a few dozen maybe, and who knew the price of gold would go crazy that weekend.”

“With your grandfather?”

“A family that steals together stays together, or so I’m told.”

“Twenty seven million is still a lot of gold,” said Dog. “How did you shift that much weight with just the two of you?”

“Now you’re asking for trade secrets, although I will say it’s amazing what you can do with a truck and bootleg lift crystals. It doesn’t matter anyway. The cops seized it all.”

“That’s a shame,” said May. “Impressive that you kept out of jail, but a shame.”

“I ended up in Devil’s Pit, having to deal with the Colonel Murchisons of this world,” said James. “That’s a penalty of sorts.”

“I knew the colonel was a hard case,” said Dog, “but I didn’t know he could be so cursedly unreasonable, and it’s hard to write letters of complaint that take a full week to get to whoever.”

“Major Horne didn’t say anything,” said May

“He’s reasonable,” said James, “but you couldn’t expect him to argue with his superior officer in front of us. Maybe he’ll reach out to us later.”

“That provost – Sergeant Wettenhall – he won’t do anything,” said May. “He doesn’t care what happens in the doll house, even if he’s there.”

“User is he?”

“Oh yes.”

“There is something we can do,” said James, “we just have to be firm about it.”