Elana Pierce

I started the day not really expecting much. The past couple weeks have just been one day after another of drudgery with little to show for it. I’ve been scanning the surrounding countryside, expanding out from Liberty and focusing on any area that seems like it might have useful minerals. Of course it’s work that someone needs to do, and I’m the girl to do it, but that doesn’t make it any less tedious. I’ve always loved field geology, but all this pouring over satellite and aerial imagery is so…blah. Or at least it is when you don’t find anything. And all this time John’s been playing a pivotal role in turning Liberty from a camp into a town and Summer’s been out there learning new things and helping get electricity to the people what need it. And unless I’ve totally lost my touch as a big sister, they’ve both got something of a flame on the side too. To top it off, I’ve been having “those dreams” again, as John put it the other day after I had a particularly restless night’s sleep. All of which just made today the sweeter.

As usual, I had been getting a little help from Mark (Tilley – he used to work with computers, although mostly here he’s been learning to farm) downloading the info from the Rock and all. An hour or so after noon I was going over the data from the mountain range to our north when I noticed something odd. The densities over a several dozen square mile area were practically off the charts, with the center registering high enough that (at least according to all the geology I’d ever heard of) it virtually had to be a nearly pure deposit of one of a select few heavy metals. As far as I know no deposit even remotely this large or this pure of any of those metals has ever been discovered. After double and triple checking the data I finally convinced myself I wasn’t making a mistake. Well, there’s a first time for everything!

I punched my wrist comp. “Andy, this is Elana Pierce. Private and secure, if you don’t mind. Do you have a minute?”

“Ms. Pierce, of course,” came the reply. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found some interesting up in the mountains that I think Strike Force Alchibah might be interested in at some point.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Ten minutes later…

I was just wrapping up my little presentation to the Col.

“So it’s virtually got to be tungsten, platinum, gold, uranium or one of only a couple other metals. It doesn’t look like it’s gonna take too much processing, so I thought it might make for some good high density ammunition. I only requested private and secure because, well, despite it being virtually worthless as a commodity I’m sure at least a few people would get pretty excited if they knew there might be about a zillion tons of precious metals just laying there for the taking.”

“Good thinking. The Council’s got to know of course, but the last thing we need is people grabbing picks and shovels and heading for the hills when there’s real work to be done.”

“My thoughts exactly Colonel.”

“Well,” Stuart said, “as we are going to be business partners; might as well make it Andy.

“Strike Force will prove up the claim for you for a portion of any Tungsten found as well as first dibs on that Tungsten. Then Andrews Tool and Die will offer a very competitive bid for the rest.”

“Why?” asked Elana.

“Without Tungsten it’s awfully hard to make Tungsten-Carbide Steel. That is essential for Tool and Die manufacture as well as Vacuum proof Weapons barrels.”

“Well then, assuming that’s what out there, you’re in business,’ was my reply.

From The Logs of Ashcroft Andrews

Day 53 Late Evening.

“Snaketrap, Dr. Hibbes Private and Secure,” I requested.

After the normal pause came, “Good Evening, Dr. Andrews. I assume that is the persona I am addressing!”

It was my turn in the cosmic scheme to be confused, “Well, I guess that would apply; but where did that come from?”

Hibbes laughed as he replied, “I have had some long conversations with Larry Monroe. He has explained the difference between Dr. Andrews, the brash Fighter Jock LTC. Andrews and the persona I don’t want to meet called Ghost.”

I gulped, “He sorta’ has it right. But if half of what I think I understand about what you are doing up there is correct; you are going to need Ghost as a Test Pilot. But, I called today to do some business. You game?”

“Well,” Hibbes replied, “I am certainly willing to listen.”

“OK, you have a working CNC machine. Save for the forged support legs and the Automated Control section; the best thing a CNC can produce is another CNC.

“I am prepared to offer you the forged supports and Automated Controls for two more CNC’s in return for one for our use.

“We will offer up a non-competition agreement so we are not making the same things for this new economy. Are you game Sir?

“Don’t answer now. Talk to Travis and Monroe and get back to me. This will help us all in ways you cannot imagine. Think about it.”

Ten Minutes Later. . .

“Doctor Stuart? The Space Jockeys are agreeable to your plan. They’d even like to go a bit further. Send us the controls for three more and we will send you back two. Plus, as you know, I designed a small sort of flying station wagon. The Flitter you’ve seen Rocco and Historian bounding around in. We traded it to them in return for building materials for our planet-side residences. Well, it seems a lot of people have shown an interest in the Flitter and frankly, er, they would make a lot of money –credits, as it were—for us. They are, of course, not space worthy, just a better way to haul small loads around town and the surrounding area. We’ll give you the rights to it, as well as the second CNC.”

There was a pause and then Ash said, “In exchange for. . . .what?”

Dr. Hibbes could be heard clearing his throat and then Travis himself came on the line.

Travis said, “Let me negotiate this, Hibbes. Hello Ash, Time and manpower are at a premium for us here on The Rock and while it’s not much better for you guys down there, perhaps I could entice you with gathering your friends to put up our in town shack and our ocean front. Everyone is offering supplies to us in exchange for a Flitter but we just don’t have the time. We’ve got ships to build and other things to concentrate on. You get the second CNC as well as the six orders for Flitters and the rights for all future ones, and the credits paid for them JUST for putting up our humble residences!”

Ash said, “Just, huh? However, that works for us.

“I have just been informed that you will get a kick-back on the Flitter orders. ‘Patent Royalty Rates’ was the phrase that was tossed over my head.

Also, once our young firebrands realize what they are going to get from those CNC’s; your Roman Villas will be up in no time.

It is a deal Sir!”

Day 70 First Light

We pulled stick just after first light, “Liberty Control , Reaper Atmospheric; search sweep 22-104.”

“Reaper singing clear, Northwest Upper Slope plan confirmed; Good Luck.”

“I’m afraid we are going to need it Liberty Control. We are way down the probability list.” Turning to look at my right seat, “Ready for another boring day Jan?” She was the one shining difference in my routine at 15 years old She had caused some changes.

As I had told her parents Frank and Debbie Christopher, “I don’t think she has any military aspirations whatsoever. The only weapon she wants to talk about is a Deer rifle like her Mom.”

Debbie grinned at me, “Well, I was the one who grew up in North Dakota. The best times I ever had were hunting with my dad and I understand Unicow makes great steaks. It’s a pity I don’t have Dad’s old rifle.”

It was time for me to grin, “I don’t want to give anything away but, we are working on that.

“But. To get serious; Rich is an entirely different situation. He is driving Joe Fortson nuts with his questions. Should I try to discourage him?”

Frank sighed, “I am afraid it would do no good. His Grandfather was a Marine till the day he died. Not UNWG for sure, old USMC to the bone. Rich has said, ‘If I can’t be a Jarhead, might as well be a Spook!’”

It was my turn to laugh, “He’s got it bad all right. Those terms are fighting words coming from outsiders but, they are what we chide each other with. Only someone who knew what they really meant would use them that way. I’ll hold him off as long as I can and Jan just wants to fly. We are going to need Civilian Pilots and I think that’s all she wants to be!”

Two faces started at each other, then at me; “Mr. Stuart, if you can give this family that, then we will be happy for our twins!”

My woolgathering was interrupted by, “Madman, Madman 001 at 4000; formed Titanium at around 50 tons.” I whipped the shuttle into a 6G orbit turn around the Datum Point, listening to Jan’s grunted breathing. “Confirm mass and composition, Co-Pilot!”

I hit the repeater so that Liberty could hear our conversation, “Confirm the Datum Point as 50.6 Tons and 99.9% positive as formed Titanium and Carbon Steel. It’s somebody’s ship Pilot.”

“Liberty Security, Mayflower Control; confirm our orbit point and Reaper going to surface to confirm.”

“Liberty Security, got you to five decimals Boss. Mayflower Control, Datum Point confirmed. Good Luck!”

We screamed down into the nearest available clearance. “Let’s go Jan ,” I called as I exited the craft grabbing my water ruck. The contents had been made by Judy and Robert Davis to my specs.

When we got to the waters edge, I handed my wristcomp to Jan. “Please hold this and to keep your parents happy, turn around.” I got a very evil grin in return but, She turned around.

I got into the Slizzard skin wetsuit and the homemade goggles/snorkle combo and told Jan, “You can look now!” With that I went into the water, hovering over the Datum; I pumped up on Oxygen and kicked down.

When I broke the surface I was grasping for air and at the same time screaming, “Give me my wristcomp!”

Jan handed it to me and I screamed, “Liberty Security, Mayflower Control; Graylady Down, say again Graylady Down. It’s the Dora and the survival racks are stripped!”

From the Mayflower came Glen Travis’s cold voice, “ Say again Reaper?”

“Galloping, it’s the Dora and the survival racks are stripped. The Plasma Rifles are gone and more importantly, Mike Reyes weapons are gone. Bart and Mike are alive somewhere. When can you get here with the Galileo to do a retrieval?”

“What’s wrong with one hour from now,“ came the cold voice of The Galloping Ghost of the Belt.

“Not a damn thing I can think of Glen. Break private to Judith Reye.”

“What can I do for you Sir?”

“Ma’am, all evidence points to the fact that your Son is alive. We have found the Dora and his guns are not here. As much as you might hate me you have to agree; if those guns are not here He is still alive somewhere. If that is true, I will find him Ma’am.”

Judith Reye turned to her husband, “Lester, Mike is alive. As much as I hate to admit it , they found the Dora and his precious Guns are not there. What I do not understand is that damned Andrew Stuart just promised me that if Mike was alive He would find him.”

Lester grimaced, “Judith, I think we have chosen the wrong path. Glen Travis and Andrew Stuart are the ones who are going to save this planet. Buchanan and his crew are the problem. It’s time we woke up to reality. The real doers do; they don’t talk about it. All Buchanan does is talk, Glen and Andy do! As does our Son, or should I call him LT Reye; because if He makes it home that’s what He will be whether we like it or not!”

“Ash, Andy; got that recovery rig ready and can you get it here in an hour?”

“Shit, I was listening. Digger and I are lifting already. We are 30 minutes out.

“Bart or Mike never quit yet. Besides Quigley owes me a return punch, and I will walk through Hell to get it!”