Tag: Brenda Redmond

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Narrative

Touching Base

Autumn Belfontaine had been a little surprised when she got the text from Brenda Redmond, asking for a private meeting. In particular, there was something odd about the insistence that the meeting be private, not in the newsroom, not in either of their module lounges, but somewhere they would not be overheard.

It had taken a little thought to find a place where it would definitely be just the two of them. Shepardsport wasn’t as crowded as it had been right after the Expulsions, but pressurized volume was still at a premium. But she’d finally located a place where they could both speak in confidence.

When Brenda arrived, it was very clear that she was holding her professional face on by force of will. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it had obviously shaken her, even if she was determined not to let it show.

No wonder she was so insistent about a private meeting, especially considering all the problems we’ve been having with rumors.

Autumn was glad she’d brought some snacks, mostly comfort food, so she could offer Brenda something to nibble while they talked. Back when she was still doing radio news reporting dirtside, she’d met more than a few sources at a coffee shop specifically so they could talk over food.

Except Brenda wasn’t all that much in the mood for food. She took one cookie, almost as if she felt obligated to accept a token amount, and immediately launched straight into what she needed to say.

“Drew and I were texting. I’d asked him a few days ago if he could look into some of the rumors I’d been hearing. He’s able to plug into some military grapevines I wouldn’t have access to, and apparently some of them go all the way to some interesting places.”

With that, she described attacks on trucks going to grocery stores in Chicago, apparently by gangbangers. The first attempt had succeeded, but it had alarmed the company enough they’d issued their drivers weapons — Autumn tried to remember what kind of gun control laws Chicago had, since so much had changed since the Energy Wars, when continual terrorist attacks had led many municipalities to decide an armed populace might well be their best defense — and the second attempt had resulted in a firefight. All of which was news to her, and Chicago had definitely been on her list of cities to monitor.

Even if Brenda’s sources were right and the cone of silence was opsec for some kind of Illinois National Guard action against the gangs of the worst neighborhoods in the Windy City, having to delay while they got the proper authorizations was not a good sign. How many people in the proper line of command would have to be out of commission for such an action to get no response when it so clearly called for an overwhelming one?

“You were definitely right to come to me in private.” Autumn looked around the tiny room, glad it had been available at this odd hour. “This is not something we want to go spreading around. In fact, right now I’m torn between keep this under our hats until thing sort out and we’d better take this to someone with authority right away, and quite honestly I’m not sure whether I’d rather take it to Security or straight to command.”

Brenda moistened her lips. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Because I’m not sure who would be the most likely to actually listen, especially since everything I have is hearsay, and I’m not completely sure whether I want to mention that Drew told me, since I sure don’t want to drag him into something that could get him in trouble.”

“Absolutely. Even if we are all members of the Shepard lineage, whether by birth or by marriage, there’s still a limit to how far family can go to cover for each other. But one thing I can do is put out some feelers. I do know some people from my college radio days who are working in the Chicago market. Even if they can’t report on it yet, they may be able to let me know whether there’s any substance to some rumors I’m getting.”

“That’s probably wise at this point. If you can get it through the news grapevine, we don’t have to expose the military one.”

“In which case, there’s not much point of talking any further, especially when both of us have things we need to get done.”

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Narrative

When the Answers Are Not Good

Brenda Redmond was in the residence module lounge, going over notes for tomorrow’s lesson plans while her children studied. At least the kids were pretty well occupied, but the educational software they were using required both speed and accuracy to score, which pretty much ensured engagement. Staying focused on lesson planning was a lot more work.

And then her phone chimed incoming text. She looked, saw it was from Drew. Got some news.

The kids are here. Want to FaceTime?

No. This needs to be private.

Brenda’s gut knotted. Whatever Drew had to say, it was not good news. OK, we can text.

You were wanting to find out about the rumors of gangsters in the inner cities setting themselves up as warlords, seizing food shipments and using them as weapons of control. It took me some time to make the necessary connections, but apparently there is some truth behind the rumors. I’m not sure how widespread it is, but apparently there was an incident on the south side of Chicago. Two food trucks hijacked on the way to a local supermarket. Dominicks, I think they said.

I’m not too familiar with Illinios, but I think Dad mentioned that name from a time he was stationed up in that area, back in the Energy Wars. So what happened with the food trucks?

Apparently the local gangstas set up their own little food distribution system, giving the food to people who’d kiss up to them. At least until they discovered the drivers on the next set of trucks were armed. Apparently there was a shootout on the inbound Ryan, or maybe one of the get-off ramps from it. Latter’s more likely for an ambush.

Yikes! How did they keep that off the news websites? I know Autumn checks at least three Chicago news stations on a regular basis.

Apparently they’re keeping it quiet while they find someone with the authority to send the National Guard in to clean things out. I’ve got rumint about similar situations in Detroit and LA, but no details.

Brenda paused to consider the implications of the first part. She was familiar with posse comitatus, if only because of the NASA Massacre, back in the Energy Wars. There were still conspiracy theorists out there who were convinced the Federal government had faked the evidence of the terrorists’ international ties to avoid having to court-martial Gus for leading Air Force police into Johnson Space Center.

But if the Illinois state government had broken down so badly that they couldn’t get someone to authorize the use of National Guard forces? She really wished she was more familiar with Illinois, but she’d been born and raised in Texas, and all her civics courses had focused on what went on in Austin, with a little nod to the other forty-nine states. She did know that the Illinois capital was Springfield, a much smaller city in the middle of the state, but she had a vague sense that a lot of the business of the state government got done in Chicago, and it provided most of their governors.

Hadn’t there been a governor who considered Springfield such a hick town that he wouldn’t even live in the Governor’s Mansion, and commuted from his home in Chicago? If the current governor took that attitude, would he be more likely to catch the diablovirus than if he lived full-time in Springfield?

There were so many questions, and far too many answers, and she doubted Drew would know much about Illinois state government. He’d been raised in New England — not surprising, given Alan Shepard was from New Hampshire — so most of his on-the-ground knowledge was from that area.

So there wasn’t much to do but chat a little. Some talk about the implications, but more just winding down the conversation, assuring each other they were well, that things in their respective settlements were remaining on an even keel, no matter how crazy things might be going on Earth, or how uncertain things were in Schirrasburg. No, Drew hadn’t had any contact with anyone from there. Things were being kept pretty tight right now, everyone staying in their spacecraft or suited up if they had to interact. Not necessarily full EVA gear, but still a pressure suit, with all the protection that implied.

Brenda was a little reluctant to have to say good-bye to Drew. However, she knew he would have work to do, and she still had some of her own she needed to finish.

All the same, she suddenly felt very lonely when she drew the conversation to a close. It seemed forever since that last night he was able to come up here to their apartment, to share a bed.

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Narrative

It Don’t Come Easy

After such a long and difficult day, Spruance Del Curtin didn’t even feel like hanging out with his clone-brothers and scoping girls at the dining commons. Right now he just headed to the table where Brenda Redmond and Lou Corlin were eating supper.

As he approached, both of them looked up. “So what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to find a quiet place to eat, maybe talk shop a little.”

Lou narrowed his eyes and studied Sprue. “That’s unusual for you. Are you sure you’re feeling OK?”

“No, I’m not coming down with anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sprue slid into an empty seat and checked himself in. “It’s just been a really long day. First, Dr. Doorne pulls me in on the problems with the main mixing board, never mind I don’t know that much about it. And I only get off that job because I’ve got an air shift to do. I mean, they even ordered my lunch delivered to the station.”

Lou wiped up the last bit of gravy on his plate with a piece of bread. “So how are things coming on it?”

“Apparently some time while I was on the air, she decided that the problems were so complicated we were better off tearing it down all the way and rebuilding it from scratch. So now Ken’s sent it off to someone in Engineering, I’m not sure exactly who’s handling it. But assuming they don’t have any major problems with parts, and there’s not other weirdness in that thing, we should have it back on the air in a couple of days.”

That got a wry grin from Brenda. “Yeah, all we’d need is a case of Moon gremlins.”

Except it wasn’t really a laughing matter. More than once there’d been weird things up here, of the sort that left people wondering about the possibility of incorporeal intelligences, whether mischievous or malicious. And given the very thin margins by which humans survived up here on a world utterly inimical to biological life, those thoughts were not reassuring.

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Narrative

Those Uneasy Thoughts

Ever since she’d gotten off her air shift, Brenda Redmond had struggled to keep her mind on her work, whether it was teaching or studying or even just her mandatory daily exercise down at the gym. Especially since she’d drawn the weight machine today, which meant needing to count her reps instead of just doing time. Several times she’s lost track of where she was and had to guess and hope.

As she was leaving the gym, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She turned to find Lou Corlin coming up behind her.

“I didn’t know you had the same gym hours as me.”

“I don’t normally, but tonight I’ve got something I have to deal with, so I swapped with Dave.”

Given how many special projects were always in progress around this place, Brenda decided not to ask any further. If Lou felt comfortable about sharing, he would. If not, prying would be exceedingly unwelcome.

So she went with a more neutral response instead. “Probably wise, if you’re thinking the time will be tight.”

They continued for a few moments in companionable silence. As they waited for the airlock to cycle, Lou finally brought up what was actually on his mind. “I’ve been hearing some really wild rumors lately. I’ve been wondering if I should talk to Autumn about this stuff, or if that would only be wasting her time when she has plenty of stuff already on her plate.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Stuff like food shipments being stolen by the guards who are supposed to protect them, and then trying to use them to set up their own private fiefdoms.”

Brenda considered some of the stuff she’d heard. “You hear all kinds of things, and it’s just believable enough that it would happen somewhere out there. Especially in societies that are still heavily tribal and there’s not a lot of trust beyond the family and clan, I could completely believe it. Now if you’re talking someplace in the US, or Japan, or Australia, I’d want a heck of a lot of proof before I’d even consider taking it seriously.”

“That’s the problem. I’m hearing stories about some of the inner cities…’

“Which have been going to hell in a handbasket and one food stamps cycle away from riots since I was a little kid.” Brenda pulled her phone out. “How about I text Drew and see what he knows. Even if he’s not that tightly hooked into the Air Force grapevine, I’m sure he knows some guys over there at the Roosa Barracks who are. Heck, my dad always said that if you want to know something like that for sure, the best way to find out is to ask a non-com.”

Lou laughed, and he didn’t sound forced. Yes, he was well aware of the sergeants’ and petty officers’ interpersonal networks too.

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Narrative

Coming Back to Try Again

Brenda could tell it was just one of those days, when you started late and spent the whole day scrambling to catch back up. The kids were still upset about missing out on their visit to their grandparents. They weren’t openly pouting, the way kids their age back on Earth might have done. But they were definitely less than enthusiastic about getting dressed and ready for the day.

They’re just kids, said a voice in the back of her mind. With everything that’s going on, they have a right to be disappointed.

But she also knew that they were living on a world that was very unforgiving, and it was far easier to form good habits from the beginning than to break bad ones. Indulge them now, and when it was time for them to assume serious responsibilities in a few years, it could end in tears. No one had forgotten the Munroe girl, and what her stubborn self-pity had gotten her.

All the same, by the time she got the children through breakfast and handed off to their teachers, Brenda was thoroughly frazzled. And she had an air shift to get through — and given her dad had finally called it quits on the main studio board last night, she’d have to do hers on the remote broadcast system.

As she was approaching the station offices, she was surprised to see Cindy Margrave walking just ahead of her, head bent over phone. Brenda lengthened her stride to close the gap with the younger woman. “How are things going.”

“OK.” Except her voice didn’t sound OK. When Brenda made it clear she was willing to listen, Cindy expanded. “I mean, I’m doing OK, and the rest of the family is. But I just got a text from an old friend I hadn’t heard from in years.”

When Brenda asked whether it was a friendship disrupted by the Expulsions, Cindy shook her head. “No, it was when Aunt Betty got transferred, a couple of years before. Shelly and I both swore we’d e-mail every day, but things happened, and we sort of grew apart.”

Brenda could understand how that sort of thing worked. She’d lost touch with a number of friends who’d moved away, especially the ones whose parents worked in the oil industry. No matter how close they’d been, no matter how sincerely they’d sworn to keep in contact, things would come up and the letters or e-mails or texts would become fewer and far between.

However, she doubted that reflecting on that would help Cindy. “So how is she doing?”

“It doesn’t sound good. Apparently the Pennsylvania child welfare system isn’t going around scooping up kids whose parents are in the hospital, whether or not they’ve made other arrangements. In fact, she was a little surprised when I told her about Amy.” Cindy paused. “Shelly went to stay with a friend’s family when her folks got sick, and then her friend’s folks got sick, and now all of them are sort of holed up in another friend’s place, with that friend’s twenty-something big sister as the only adult in the whole place. From the sound of things, they’re kind of worried about what would happen if the government ever notices, but apparently things are getting bad enough around there that the government’s got a lot bigger fish to fry than making sure every child has a proper legal guardian.”

“No, that doesn’t sound good at all.” Although Brenda suspected that the big sister in question was about her own age, maybe even older, she also knew that things were different dirtside.

Except telling Cindy that there was nothing they could do right now wasn’t going to be helpful. If anything, it was apt to make her worry more. “How about trying to find out as much as you can about their situation, anything they need to know to keep their place going. If you need to, let me know so I can see what I can find out.”

By then they were at the doors to the station offices. There was work to be done, and it wouldn’t wait.

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Narrative

A Welcome Note

Two more airlocks, Brenda told herself. Just two more airlocks and we’ll be to the station offices.

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that a crew was hauling a big piece of equipment down to Flight Ops after Engineering had worked on it. In normal times, transporting it at this hour made perfect sense, since there weren’t that many people moving around. Today it meant she and Lou got stuck waiting a lot longer than they should’ve. Lou had texted ahead so that everyone would know the reason for the delay, but it was still frustrating to have to lose time waiting, especially since there wasn’t a whole lot of ways to catch back up.

Just as they were entering the next to last airlock, her phone chimed incoming text. Wondering if it was her dad, she pulled it out.

No, it was Drew: Just wondering if you’re having trouble with your system over there. Some time in the last hour, sound quality just went to crap.

Better let him know she was aware of the situation. Thanks. Right now I’m on my way down to the station to help sort it out. Rand’s watching the kids.

He’s a good kid. Typical straight-arrow Chaffee, but still a good kid.

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Narrative

Visiting Grandparents

Barbara Redmond still remembered trips to Indiana to visit her paternal grandparents. Sometimes they’d fly, but far more often they’d hit the road north through the Texas Piney Woods and across Arkansas and Tennessee to the other half of I-69.

By her teens, the trips were getting fewer and further between. Her dad was getting busier with NASA, and with Flannigan in the White. House, things were getting more and more tense for clones and their families. And her grandparents were getting older, and less eager to host rambunctious children for a weekend. The last couple of visits, her folks had rented a suite in a nearby hotel rather than impose upon Grandma and Grandpa Redmond.

Up here, taking her kids to visit Grandma and Grandpa was just three airlocks: the one out of the module her apartment was in, one intermediate airlock, and the airlock into the module where her parents’ apartment was. At least in theory, it should’ve been easy to visit on a regular basis — but with everything going on and her parents having such responsible positions, visits practically needed to be scheduled a week in advance. And even that was no guarantee, because an emergency in Engineering or Food and Nutrition could mean the visit was off.

Like tonight. The kids had been asking when their daddy would come home again. She’d offered to set up a FaceTime call with Drew, since she knew he was off the flight roster for a couple of days. But no, both of them were wailing they wanted to see Daddy, not just look at his image on a screen. And no, they didn’t want to go down to Flight Ops and talk to him through a pane of moonglass, hear his voice through a speaker. They wanted him here, in the apartment, to sit crosslegged on the floor and play with them like he used to.

They were still young enough that they really didn’t grasp why it wasn’t possible for Daddy to come home right now. They understood being sick, but only in the terms of the colds and stomach bugs that sometimes went through lunar settlements. They didn’t really grasp how dangerous the diablovirus could be, how it could endanger an entire settlement, and she didn’t want them having nightmares because of the way a child’s limited life-experience could misconstrue an explanation. So she’d just told them that it wasn’t possible right now, and no, she didn’t know when it would be. Not just because she had no real idea how long it might go on, but also because children that age had no real grasp of time. Even the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed like an eternity at that age.

But she’d thought she could at least arrange a visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s apartment, if only for a half hour or so. Not just seeing them at the dining commons when everyone was concentrating on eating, or a quick hi-bye in the corridors, but a bit of time set aside just to go over and visit.

And now that wasn’t happening after all. Her father was busy with the ongoing solar situation, which might have seemed to calm down right now, but was still showing magnetic irregularities that suggested more CME’s and flares would be on the way soon. And now her mother had just texted her and said that she was in an emergency meeting with Alice Murcheson because they were having further problems. Apparently that one set of planters wasn’t all that had defective irrigation tubing, just the first one to actually have trouble.

At least you didn’t build up the visit too much with the kids, so the disappointment isn’t going to be quite so crashing as if it were all they were thinking about.

But it was still going to be a disappointment, and there was no way to get around it. The best she could do right now was give them something else to distract them. At least kids this young weren’t as likely to hang onto disappointments and let them turn into bitter resentments, as long as something else came along to capture their attention.

But what? Brenda took a half-hearted look through the contacts list on her phone, trying to think of someone who could offer something that would entrance them so well they’d forget about having to miss the visit with Grandma and Grandpa.

And then the module airlock cycled, and in came Lou Corlin, looking breathless. “Didn’t you get the text?”

“What text? The last text I got was from Mom, about the problem down at Agriculture.”

“We’ve got a problem at the station. We’re having trouble with the sound mixing board, and we’ve switched to the system for remote broadcasts.”

“Crap.” Brenda knew that most of the station’s equipment was jury-rigged, since they couldn’t very well have standard studio equipment shipped up here from Earth. “Let me see if Cindy can watch the kids, and then I’ll be ready.”

“No worries. I already asked Rand to come over.”

Even as he said that, the module airlock hatch opened again, and Rand Littleton walked in. “Here I am.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

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Narrative

So Close and Yet So Far Away

Drew’s back in town. Brenda wished she could really feel excited about it the way she ought to.

But it couldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t really come home, not as long as there was any question of pilots catching the diablovirus in one spaceport and then bringing it home to spread through the close quarters of a lunar settlement. Even if she took the kids down to Flight Operations to see their daddy, the closest they were going to come was seeing him through a thick moonglass window and talk over a glorified speakerphone. They could just as well FaceTime on her tablet and spare themselves the time and effort of going down to Innsmouth Sector.

Or at least that had been the plan. Instead, Brenda had gotten a call that there had been some problems with some of the air handlers up in Miskatonic Sector, and the crew needed someone slim and flexible to get into the plenum leading to them.

She couldn’t very well disappoint her dad, so she’d left the kids with a friend while she dealt with the latest emergency. At least the last two CME’s have shot off in the direction of Jupiter, so we’ve had a reprieve there, even if we are still under the solar storm watch.

Still, the work was pretty routine, and left her far too much time for thought. Like recollections of when she and Drew had first met, in those wild and crazy days right after the destruction of Luna Station. He’d been such a hero, trekking overland from a downed lander to get help for his commander, who’d been injured in the damage that had put them down there.

Her folks had been a little concerned about her getting involved with someone who was several years older. However, they hadn’t quite gone to the point of forbidding her any contact with Drew, just pointed out that she had three more months until her eighteenth birthday, and needed to remember that.

And then he managed to get a lander down on manual after the flight computer got corrupted in the cyber-attack, and everyone’s attitudes changed.

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Narrative

Beneath the Wall of Sleep

Although there was a fair-sized crowd in the library today, it was astonishingly quiet. The crowd was scattered among tables and carrels, studying singly or in twos and threes.

Brenda Redmond had come up here to pick up some material she needed for this afternoon’s class. But when she saw Kitty Margrave over at one of the study carrels, she recalled how Cindy had seemed rather upset this morning at the station.

Cindy had been trying to keep her professional face on, but she was still young enough that she didn’t have as much control as she thought she did. That little quaver in her voice, especially on the phone when she was sending callers to the appropriate office. The tendency to rush just a little whenever something difficult came up. It was only noticeable if you really were looking — but Brenda knew Cindy well enough to recognize the tells.

Except she was doing well enough that I didn’t want to raise the issue, because it would come across as criticism.

Which made Brenda wonder if she really ought to raise the question with Kitty, or if it would be better to leave well enough alone. In ordinary times, Brenda would’ve asked Betty Margrave, but the chief of Safety and Security was far too busy right now to be distracted by concerns about what might well be an ordinary personal upset.

And then Kitty looked up from her carrel. “Hi, Brenda. Have you heard anything new about what’s happening with Amy?”

“Actually I was wondering whether something was worrying your sister. Cindy seemed a little uneasy today at work.”

Kitty glanced around. “Well, it’s been a few days since we’ve gotten anything at all from her. Not even those weird, stilted messages that sound like someone’s dictated the words she’s to say.”

“That is worrying.” Brenda considered what their next step should be. She still hadn’t heard anything back about Robbie’s situation either, and she wasn’t sure which one was touchier.

In some ways, not knowing anything can let me hope that she’s found some kind of modus vivendi with her parents’ prejudices. Those weird stilted messages make me think of the elective I did a while ago on the Great Terror, and how they’d sometimes make prisoners write several postcards to their families, all about how they’re doing well in the labor camps, to hide the fact that they were actually about to be executed.

“Do you think we ought to ask Eli if he can find out whether Amy’s OK? I mean, he’s family–“

“But he’d have to have formal authorization to be able to break into secure systems, which means we’d have to go through IT, and possibly have to go all the way up to Captain Waite. I’m not sure he’d want to authorize it. Every time one of our people goes poking around government databases dirtside, it raises the risk that the Administration will take action.”

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A Worrying Development

The corridors of the Roosa Barracks were almost painfully quiet. Normally they would’ve been crowded with people coming and going through Slayton Field, but all that traffic had been disrupted, first with the diablovirus, and now with the solar storm watch, which had pretty much shut down all space traffic.

Which meant a very lonely walk back to the BOQ for Drew Reinholt. It didn’t help that there wasn’t that much to do in here. Because of the risk of contagion, gatherings were being discouraged — and what was the point in watching a movie or listening to a lecture on your computer in your private quarters? Maybe it would’ve been different with the family, but Brenda and the kids were at Shepardsport.

And maybe it’s just as well that way. If someone does bring the virus to the Moon, it’s far more likely to hit here. With luck, we can catch it quickly enough that it stops here.

On the other hand, the closing of space traffic was also meaning that freight wasn’t coming up, including essential items. As Drew walked past the Caudells’ apartment, he recalled a conversation he’d had with Peter Caudell earlier in the day.

Most essential parts could be fabricated up here, thanks to two decades of determined development of in-situ resource utilization. Everything that could be produced locally was that much that didn’t have to be lifted out of Earth’s substantial gravity well — which meant that even astronaut meals for the lunar ferry and stations in Earth orbit were grown and prepared in lunar greenhouse-farms.

However, there were still a few things that still needed to be brought up from Earth — some because there just wasn’t enough demand to justify the duplication of specialized equipment, and some biologicals because the relevant organisms required very particular environments. Most of them were medicinals, and there had been ongoing efforts to synthesize their active ingredients.

Which means that we’re depending on how long those things remain in stock. At least most of them aren’t life-or-death, but there are a few specialized seals and filters that we still don’t have the ability to fabricate up here.

Something we need to work on changing, ASAP.