Tag: Drew Reinholt

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Narrative

Getting Pinged

All day long, Spruance Del Curtin kept thinking about what Dr. Doorne had said. Sprue was not entirely unfamiliar with growth curves, since they’d gone over them in stats, and they’d been touched upon in a biology class he’d taken a while back.

What he really wanted to know was the nature of the growth that was being measured. Especially with the wild rumors going around about the situation in Schirrasburg, Sprue wondered if Dr. Doorne had been discussing statistics on the spread of the diablovirus.

Except there was no good way to find out. He couldn’t ask because that would be admitting that he’d listened in on a conversation in which he had no part. And since he’d so little, and that quite vague, he had nothing to go on for making discreet inquiries around the settlement.

Face it, you’re out of options. Sprue didn’t like that conclusion. He was a Shep, and part of that geneset’s intense competitiveness was a ferocious determination.

But with nothing to go on, there was no real place to start. Unless he got a lucky break and happened upon something that pointed him in the right direction, he was out of the running.

Which meant he needed to get his mind on something more productive. He had more than enough work to do, between Dr. Doorne pushing him to do some of the most difficult statistical analysis with real data, as opposed to the standard teaching datasets the other students were getting, and his teaching responsibility becoming steadily heavier as his senior teacher pushed more and more onto him.

He was just starting on his latest lesson plan for that when his phone chimed incoming text. He pulled it up, discovered it was from Drew. Found anything yet?

Sprue considered how to answer that one. If it had been Ken Redmond asking, there would’ve been no question of admitting that he’d been listening in on Dr. Doorne’s telephone conversation. But Drew was a fellow Shep, and he’d take a more relaxed view of such things, especially when it might benefit him.

I’ve heard a few things around Science, but so far I haven’t been able to get any hard facts to back them with. But if you want some speculation, I’m thinking they’re looking at Schirrasburg as a test case in the limits of contagion in a closed population.

He paused for a moment before actually hitting the send button. It was just evasive enough about his sources that even if someone in authority were to go through his SMS logs, they wouldn’t be able to say that he’d been eavesdropping.

Drew must’ve needed to think about it too, because it was several minutes before he responded. Long enough for Sprue to decide it was time to dig back in on his work.

He was just getting back into that mindset when the text chime pulled him back out of his thoughts. Which indicates that they had something going around there, although not definite proof that it was the diablovirus.

But if it were just an ordinary bug, why would they be so hush-hush about it that we’ve got rumors all over the place? All they’d have to say is someone’s picked up a case of the flu and it’s spreading, so they’re taking some extra precautions to make sure it doesn’t spread in the middle of a crisis. Then everybody could stop worrying.

Once again Drew took a long time to reply, which left Sprue wondering if that last observation hadn’t been a wise move. Finally the writing message icon showed up, and then the text appeared. You underestimate the bureaucratic mind.

The whole knowledge is power thing?

More than just that. You never want to let information get out that makes you look bad if you can avoid it. That’s why so much embarrassing information gets classified as secret, even when there’s no national security reason.

And why people keep covering things up, never mind that it’s usually the coverup that gets them in trouble, not the actual thing they were covering up.

Exactly. Which is why I’m thinking that it was a diablovirus outbreak, and it was seriously bad.

I’d believe it. But I sure don’t know how to go about confirming it.

Keep thinking about it, but whatever you do, be careful about it.

Sprue promised he would, which seemed to satisfy Drew. Now to get some serious work done on that lesson plan. Maybe he’d get some ideas while his mind was off the problem.

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Narrative

A Follow-Up

For the last several days Drew’s e-mails and texts had been brief to the point of curtness. Brenda had resolved not to take their shortness as a personal slight. Given the situation, he probably had a lot more stuff on his plate than she did, and right now she had a heck of a lot.

So she was surprised when her phone chimed incoming text, and not only was it from Drew, but it was also long enough that only the first two lines were displayed on the lock screen. Just wondering whether you’d had a chance to find out anything about….

Which was just enough that she had to swipe to open, and everything else could just wait.

Just wondering whether you’d had a chance to find out anything about what’s going on down at Schirrasburg. We’re getting a new round of rumors around here.

Brenda moistened her lip, considered whether to tell her husband about her and Lou’s abortive efforts. Might as well give him the gist, but leave out some of the awkward details. A friend and I took a look at Schirrasburg’s Internet activity. We were hoping we might be able to find out something, but everything’s encrypted super-tight. The only thing we do know is that the patterns of data transfer are atypical for them.

Not surprising. These days, most everything goes over encrypted connections, even if it’s not actually confidential material, just to prevent man-in-the-middle attacks.

We’ve talked about that at the station. Especially with the political situation, it’s completely plausible that someone would create a fake radio station and redirect traffic to them.

When Drew didn’t respond, she wondered if he was trying to decide how to respond without casting shade on the Commander-in-Chief. Maybe better shift the conversation away from the awkward area.

So what are you hearing over there? Or can you tell me?

Don’t spread it around, but we’re hearing that it was diablovirus, and it went through the whole settlement in spite of their going on strict lockdown. Everybody confined to quarters, everything delivered by robot, no interpersonal contact at all.

Brenda considered that information. Of course if it was just a rumor, it might not indicate anything at all. But if there were facts under it…

How well is the air filtered over there? If there are straight-line connections between rooms in the HVAC ducts, confining everyone to quarters wouldn’t make any difference, especially if the virus is airborne. The life-support systems would just blow it right from one room to another.

You’d have to ask Engineering, and right now communications are official channels only. But from the times I’ve visited there, they have the standard modularized design, so it’s not like they’ve got the air blowing through the whole settlement. But if there’s not filters at every room, I could see how a virus could blow from one apartment to another in a residential module. Which does not bode well if the rumor is true that nothing would stop it until it burned itself out.

Brenda shivered as if caught in a sudden breeze. It took a moment to get her hands to stop trembling so she could type.

No wonder they’re keeping such a firm lid on it. No way do you want to have that kind of thing circulating.

She started to write more, then thought better of it and backspaced, then started again. Maybe we’d better wind this conversation up.

Probably. I still have a report I need to write, and it’s not getting any earlier. Take care, and keep your eyes and ears open.

Will do. Brenda closed her messenger app, intending to get back to the work she was supposed to be doing. Five minutes later she realized she was still sitting and stewing.

By conscious effort of will she put away her phone and turned her attention back to her laptop.

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Narrative

A Much-Welcome Connection

Brenda Redmond had just gotten to the dining commons and was looking for a table for herself and her children when her phone chimed a text alert. She reached for her phone, then checked herself. No, right now she needed to get the children settled in for their meal. The last thing she needed was for them to get bored while she was looking at her phone and go running all over the place.

Tonight seemed to be unusually busy. Some days she’d welcome sitting with friends, but right now she really wanted to find a table where she and the kids were by themselves. Especially if that text were important, she wanted to be able to take care of it right away.

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be texting in the dining hall unless it was an emergency. But right now there was a lot more gray area around the definition of “emergency,” and people tended to assume you were following the rules unless you were being an ass about it.

And the beginning of the text would come up on the lock screen when she woke it to scan the QR code at her seat to sign in. Which meant she was more than a little surprised to see that it had come from Drew. Wanting to know if she knew about something, from what she could see.

As soon as she had the kids settled in at their places and there was nothing to do but wait for the serverbot to deliver their meals, she pulled the text up.

Wondering if you’ve heard anything new about the situation at Schirrasburg. We’ve got rumors going around here that either the guy recovered and never had the diablovirus at all, or that he died but it’s being kept secret to prevent panic.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I haven’t heard much of anything. Command and senior staff’s really been stepping on gossip hard lately, and to be honest, I can’t blame them. Especially how young this community trends, we can’t let people’s fears run wild.

Understood. I was just hoping you might’ve come across some information at the station.

The news department’s been a lot more careful about information of late. Autumn’s told all the reporters that they are to watch their mouths, and what they read in the newsroom is suppose to stay in the newsroom unless she gives them the go-ahead.

Probably a wise idea. But it’d help if you could keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything about it.

I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.

Brenda would’ve said more, but the serverbot had just arrived, and it was time to eat and free up the seats for someone else.

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Narrative

No News Might Be Good News

Drew Reinholt was working his way through a new set of technical documents when he heard voices just outside his office door. He couldn’t make out words, but the tone and rhythms suggested distress, albeit carefully reined in. No doubt if he had been able to actually hear the words, he’d be too focused upon them to pick up that nuance.

Strictly speaking, even paying enough attention to notice the tension in the voices was a breach of privacy. Up here on the Moon, everyone was living in such tight quarters that it was liveable only if everyone studiosly avoided overhearing conversations that were not meant for them — although nobody would ever know if you did listen in as long as you never revealed it.

On the other hand, there were lots of ways of revealing information you weren’t supposed to have. Even so much as failing to show surprise at something could reveal that you must’ve come about knowledge in an illegitimate manner.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Back on Earth, he would’ve had to get up to open the door, but here he could just lean back and pull the door open. As long as it wasn’t a superior, his failure to rise to greet the person wasn’t a major breach of courtesy.

“Come on in.”

He was a little surprised to find Peter Caudell there. At least Captain Caudell wasn’t in his direct line of command, but the man was sufficiently senior in the list of astronaut selection groups that a certain amount of due deference was typically expected.

On the other hand, Caudell was also a clone of a Mercury astronaut, and familiar with the Shepard temperament. No, he wasn’t going to make an Issue of it.

Instead, he just leaned against the doorpost, taking an equally casual pose. “Say, Drew, have you heard any news about the situation down in Schirrasburg?”

“Not really. With their spaceport closed, I haven’t been keeping up that closely. I’ve got enough to do between studying for my latest training sequence,” he gestured to the documents on his computer, “and preparing for upcoming missions. Especially since they keep sending me down to Coopersville all the time.” Better stop there. It wouldn’t do to sound openly resentful about being unable to visit his family when Caudell’s wife and daughter lived here in the Roosa Barracks.

If Caudell picked up anything, he made no remark on it. “I’ve just heard some rumors. Some people claim the guy’s recovering and whatever he had, they’re pretty sure it wasn’t the diablovirus. Other people are saying he died but they’re covering it up to prevent panic.”

And you thought that Brenda being a DJ over at Shepardsport Pirate Radio would have her plugged into the information networks well enough that she’d know. Except there was no way to actually say that without being rude. “Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything more authoritative, and with the current situation, I’ve been trying to keep my nose out of trouble.”

“Understood. But if you do come across something, let me know. I’m trying to reassure some people that we’re still safe, but the lack of solid information is only making them more likely to believe the worst rumors.”

“Will do.” With the conversation closed, Drew pointedly returned his attention to the material he needed to get absorbed before his next training session. After class, he’d consider whether he should contact Brenda and find out what she might know.

Or maybe he ought to contact one of his clone-brothers who happened to be one of Brenda’s colleagues at the station. That kid had a real nose for trouble, especially when he thought someone was hiding information from him.

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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

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

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

All Is Not Well

Drew Reinholt had Shepardsport Pirate Radio tuned in on his computer while he was going over the latest materials on comm upgrades. Not very loud, not just because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but also because disco wasn’t exactly his thing.

But he had it just loud enough to form a pleasant background to shut out the ever-present random background noise. Less the white noise of the ventilation fans than the intermittent thumps and bumps of people moving equipment through the corridors of the Roosa Barracks, talking a little louder than they should’ve, particularly when they were right on that edge of where they should switch from hollering to using their radios.

Drew had been concentrating just enough that he hadn’t really noticed when the dj’s announcements suddenly took on a much rougher quality, as if the guy had switched from a pro-grade broadcast mic to some random headset he’d found lying around in a tool locker. But once he realized the quality had really dropped, he started listening in earnest.

Yes, there was something wrong with their broadcast quality. However, it didn’t seem to affect recorded material, just the live announcements.

Most of Drew’s formal experience with audio transmissions related to comms on spacecraft, not broadcast standards. However, he’d helped Brenda with her broadcast training enough that he had a fair comprehension of the equipment they were using over at Shepardsport Pirate Radio. Given how much of it her dad had put together, since it wasn’t exactly practical to be bringing pro-grade studio equipment up from Earth, and the man did enjoy geeking out about his work, Drew actually knew a fair amount.

However, it was just enough to suggest several possible faults that could degrade on-air performance, but not enough to narrow it down to any one or to suggest possible fixes. Drew glanced over at his phone. Should he text Brenda and let her know there was a problem at the station?

Heck, would it be better to go straight to the source and text his father-in-law? As head of Engineering, Ken Redmond would be the guy who would marshall the necessary personnel to get the problem fixed.

On the other hand, if it had been some time since the problem cropped up, they probably knew about it already. For all he knew, the whole team was already hard at work rectifying the problem, and his texting would only serve as a distraction.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to send Brenda a little text of encouragement. If she was already working on the problem, she didn’t need to respond until she got some slack time. If she wasn’t, it would be a heads-up.

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Beyond the Horizon

Every time Drew closed his eyes, he kept seeing the lunar horizon stretching out before him. Maybe it was just because he didn’t feel so hemmed in when he was flying.

Even back at Slayton Field, the restrictions were getting tighter as the close calls kept accumulating. At first they just hadn’t been allowed to go into the main part of Grissom City, but they were allowed to mix freely with the support staff. Now they were under orders to remain in their quarters when they weren’t actively working on something that took them to a particular place.

And it’s interesting how many people suddenly get a whole lot more interested in simulator time. Half the pilots wouldn’t put in any more than the essential time, and now we’re all practically fighting for our turns on those machines.

Here, it would be much harder to argue for simulator time, or pretty much anything that would get him out of this tiny BOQ cubicle. Sure, they’d set up a place for visitations, but the kids had been more frustrated than happy at seeing Daddy through a thick plate of moonglass, so he and Brenda had agreed that it would be just as well to just visit via FaceTime on their tablets, which they could do no matter where he was.

Which meant there was nothing to do but wait until Brenda called. And in the meantime, he had documentation he really needed to be looking over. Even amidst a pandemic and a solar storm watch, he needed to keep up with his secondary astronaut specialty.

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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.