A King Word And a Gun

by Yuri Hamaganov

  Olga notices the easy smile of Comrade Andrei; she herself also enjoys a little humor. Naturally, a wealthy man fleeing from New Louisiana wouldn’t be met cordially at his destination. After the residents of this rich colony began to pursue a policy of neutrality, refusing to help anyone around them, they didn’t enjoy much popularity among their neighbors. It is also not surprising that no one even thought of coming to New Louisiana to offer help when pirates were boarding her, and the distress signals sent by the villagers were ignored. Open space isn’t Mars, where mutual assistance is a necessary condition for survival; the relations between the colonies have always been built on other principles.

  “So, thanks to cash, I managed to convince the colonists not to throw me overboard, at least not immediately throw me out. They let me in, but only on the condition that I leave their station on the first ship. They considered my presence to be dangerous for themselves; they feared that I might be searched for by those who captured New Louisiana. There, finally, I found out what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  Our station was occupied, and the pirates built on it their new military base to develop action in this region. In the main building, which received heavy damage, restoration work began, for which the invaders used some our survivors. Several ships made shuttle flights from New Louisiana to Tartar and back, appear to be transferring reinforcements and taking out the loot. Apparently, most of the prisoners who weren’t involved in the reconstruction work, including my family, were taken by the same ships. No warships, state or private, came to our rescue; the Supernova Navy didn’t react to our calls. But this wasn’t the most important fact—the most important is that not only did I manage to escape; other survivors were discovered as well.

  Only then did I learn that shortly before the attack, but after the alarm was triggered and I had taken a place in the shelter, a single ship left New Louisiana and was soon picked up by the Supernova destroyer; the pirates didn’t pursue them. On this ship, our colony left some of its owners, some of my relatives and former business partners. They went to the nearest Supernova base.”

  Olga asks Joseph a short question and receives an affirmative answer with an eighty-six percent probability. The same question is asked by other Bolsheviks, with a similar response—the events on New Louisiana are beginning to become clear.

  “And what happened next? What did you do after that?” Klimov continues to poll the Earthman, although he already knows the answer in advance.

  “Well, as the colonists demanded, I left their station on the first unmanned transport ship, again in a freight container. In total, I stayed with them for fifteen hours, and for all that time, I was under threat of death forbidden to use any communication and try to contact those who managed to escape. The colonists didn’t want anyone to know that I was there. I managed to call my partners only after the truck brought me to a transfer station. I was told that I should wait for help, and I didn’t come in contact with anyone else until the boat came and took me away. I waited. And then something unexpected happened . . .”

  “If Comrade Captain allows, I’ll speak now, and our story will become even more interesting,” interrupted Andrei. The earthman wants to protest against such a violation of the regulations, but the captain stops him with a light gesture; it’s time to listen to another interested party.

  “Where did you meet Borgnine, Andrei?”

  “At the same transshipment station, where he flew in a container. We were standing at the gas station. But even earlier, I saw him during the negotiation, when we offered them our defense, and these wealthy gentlemen ignored our proposal.

  By the time this bourgeois came to the transshipment, everyone already knew what troubles had befallen the inhabitants of New Louisiana, so I wondered how he managed to escape. And then I sent the message to the headquarters; said that I wanted to see what happens with him next. It was really fun.”

  The guy in the cap is silent, glancing impressively at the earthman—the most interesting part of the story he generously hands over to Frank Borgnine.

  “The boat that was sent for me arrived on time, and then . . . something unexpected happened. My rescuers tried to kill me, right away, as I climbed aboard. Without demanding anything and without any explanation, they simply put a gun to my head. I had already said goodbye to life, but here . . .”

  “Here I had to intervene and save our common friend from New Louisiana until he was thrown overboard,” interrupts Andrei again. Borgnine doesn’t protest this time.

  “Did you act on your own initiative, or did you get an order from Elizabeth?”

  Andrei takes from Klimov a package of smoked salmon, opens it, and swallows a couple of slices.

  “Thank you. I haven’t eaten such a fish for a long time. No, when I realized that he was going to be killed, I had to improvise. I don’t like this passenger very much, but he, after all, was Boddicker's enemy, and nobody cancels old debts. As a result, I managed to save this bourgeois, at the same time having obtained a new and almost intact boat. I don’t want to brag again, but it turned out beautifully. Your Marines would have liked it.

  I sold the bodies of the killers for recycling at the transshipment station; our partners don’t ask questions in such cases. Then we split up—the Snake Plissken left for the destination point, and I took Borgnine and went to Haifa-6 on the captured boat, where I immediately sold the boat, as it was very noticeable. Then we hitchhiked.”

  Comrade Andrei illustrates his words with a brief flight scheme that reveals his extremely confusing route—thirteen flights in less than five days, with stops in places where even experienced cosmonauts try to avoid visiting unnecessarily. Olga appreciates how calmly and casually the guy in the black cap speaks of such a difficult and dangerous journey. Yes, he is really an expert in secret operations and an excellent pilot: it is only thanks to his skills and connections that they managed to break away from the pursuit. Borgnine is also a strong fellow, since he has withstood such a run in the holds and under the bottom of old trucks; for an elderly man this is an excellent ability. The girl has imbued him with a certain respect; he isn’t at all at the weakling that he may appear to be at first glance.

  “In the end, our persecutors lost sight of us. That's when I got in touch with you, and then we had our last flight in the boxes that this lovely girl picked up today. This is the last stop; right now, I'm waiting for further instructions from the Queen. In the meantime, I suggest we listen to Mr. Borgnine. I think you’ll be interested to know why his partners and friends intended to take off his scalp.”

  “Yes, it sounds interesting. So, Mr. Borgnine, do you have any idea why your partners wanted your death? Or what did they want to gain by killing you?”

  Borgnine doesn’t immediately answer the captain’s question, for some time silently staring at the floor, as if trying to understand the complex intertwining patterns of mahogany parquet.

  “New Louisiana was captured by pirates without a fight—a multi-level defense system that cost us a pile of money, didn’t get off a single shot, and didn’t give any resistance. How did this become possible if we prepared so well for the attack? Betrayal. As you guessed, we were betrayed.

  My relatives and partners, my own uncle, who allegedly managed to escape—they betrayed us all! And I wondered at first how they were so lucky that the pirates didn’t pursue them and that the destroyer was near. They sold the station to the invaders; they sold it with everyone who was there! My wife and children were sold!”

  While listening to Borgnine, Olga carefully examines his diary, trying to restore the picture of the battle. There were few data that interested her; the earthman wasn’t among the engineers of New Louisiana and wasn’t an expert in its defensive systems. Uncle Joe can’t help either; the owners of the colony naturally didn’t inform everyone about the details of the arrangement.

  She knows the common points—a fairly powerful defensive system designed to repel an ordinary pirate raid, which was
common in the High Orbits before the emergence of Grond. After the advent of the Son of Thunder, such protection was no longer enough. The powerful gangsters quickly moved from raids using single ships and small groups to much more effective attacks by large packs. Such wolf packs defeated and captured more than one large colony in the last year; they would have coped with New Louisiana too, but only after a heavy fight and heavy losses.

  And here the invaders passed through without any resistance, without any problems overcoming the minefields and quietly docking, with several shots having destroyed the command post and killing hundreds of civilians. Why did they shoot at the command post? They didn’t want anyone to take over the reserve defense system after the main one was disconnected for some unknown reason.

  Now, this reason has ceased to be unknown—the powerful artificial intelligence of New Louisiana was turned off by traitors who opened the fortress gate to the enemy. But what did the traitors get in return? What are thirty pieces of silver worth now?

  “They conspired beforehand, probably before the Supernova Corporation was denied our support. Uncle Solomon came to the conclusion that New Louisiana was doomed and there was no point in going to the bottom with the ship. Instead, it was necessary to run, not forgetting to grab everything valuable. On New Louisiana, we have a huge safe, the storehouse of our common savings. Apparently, Boddicker’s agents helped Uncle open the depository so that no one would notice, and in exchange, in the best traditions of Quisling, he provided them with a quiet landing. Before the attack began, when the pirates were still far away, he raised a military alarm, so that the entire leadership flew over the shelters in fear, and no one could stop him.

  Together with his accomplices, Uncle Solomon hastily cleaned out the safe and fled, without waiting for his new friends; apparently, he didn’t trust them. Here, allegedly by accident, a Supernova destroyer who picked up his yacht passed by; apparently, my uncle had made an agreement with the fleet in advance. And the pirates had already taken our common house on board. That’s the story.”

  Klimov and Severov for some time discuss something on the internal channel; one more question needed to be answered.

  “So, the composition of the crime is clear—your uncle surrendered the city to the enemy, while he gathered the cash and fled. That’s not complicated. But why try to kill you, Mr. Borgnine?

  What did he gain by this, or what did he want to avoid? Was he afraid that you would learn about his betrayal? No, that’s unlikely. No one would pay attention to such a trifle with the courts and the prosecutor's office gone. Maybe he was afraid that you would take revenge on him? Once again, that is unlikely. They are much stronger than you, and you can’t do anything alone. And yet, he needed to kill you and kill you quietly, so that no one would know, including the pirates. That's why Uncle Solomon was in such a hurry with your liquidation.

  Asteroids, your precious asteroids, full of water ice and precious metals, your piggy bank for the future—that is the interest of the traitor. He is now the only owner. And you, Mr. Borgnine, so inopportunely escaped from New Louisiana, you can be a nuisance to him—you know the access codes to the minefields that protect these asteroids. And through you, those codes can get to someone else, for example, to the pirates.”

  Olga once saw a similar system of asteroid protection, almost a year ago, when the Bolshevik was returning from the Martian war. At that time, they had to make a considerable detour and go deeper into the Asteroid Belt in order to reach a secret shelter. It's hard to say how much time they would have had to spend on this small piece of stone in the sky, but Grond came, and they were able to anchor. Olga doesn’t remember the place very well, but she knows that she appreciated the defense system that she was instructed to modernize. Controlled minefields and well-camouflaged artillery guns turned an ordinary asteroid into a deadly trap. Most likely, the asteroids belonging to New Louisiana are protected the same way, so no one should go there without demand. The territory of the Belt is huge; there is nowhere to turn for help, and if you hit a mine or catch a torpedo, you’ll never return.

  Of course, pirates know this; they don’t like to take risks in vain, especially on their short-range ships. They need someone who knows how to pass the minefields; they need Mr. Borgnine, which is why Uncle Solomon took all measures to ensure that his nephew didn’t speak to anyone.

  “Comrade Captain, I’m asking your advice as someone who has experience. If I give my asteroids to the pirates, will I be able to save the captive inhabitants of New Louisiana in an exchange? If not all of them, then at least my family? Not only do we have water ice on the asteroids, there are precious metals, too, including platinum, a lot of platinum, several dozen tons.”

  “First of all, Mr. Borgnine, don’t ever tell anyone else about your precious casket. These days, that might end badly. Secondly . . .”

  Klimov pauses, lighting a cigarette.

  “Secondly, you can’t just exchange asteroids for captives. You have correctly noted our extensive experience. My valiant crew and I know these knife and ax workers well; we know how they conduct business. The gang, and now, in fact, Boddicker’s army, is the most dangerous of them all, you weren’t lucky to come in contact with them. Earlier, even before Grond, they conducted ransom trades of rich prisoners. But this won’t help you.”

  “Why? Why won’t that help us?!”

  “The remoteness of your wealth is the reason, Mr. Borgnine. Distance and protection.”

  In the center of the saloon, between the captain and the earthman, a brief flight scheme to the precious asteroid is displayed.

  “Suppose you contact them and offer a deal—asteroids in exchange for captives, at least some of the captives. The pirates will pretend that they agree, but they will definitely add one condition, which you won’t be able to refuse: you must fly with them to the asteroids and there shut down the defense system. Only then they will release your family. Naturally, this won’t happen the way you plan; just after you show them the safe passage through the minefield, they will throw you overboard. And your family will forever remain in slavery. Nothing personal—just business.”

  “Then what should I do?!”

  “Alone, you can’t do anything. But with our help, and with the help of our comrades from the Red Dawn, you have some possible options. But bargaining with bandits isn’t in our rules; we shoot bandits. And if you make an agreement with us, you should know that there will be no negotiations. There will be war.”

  CHAPTER FOUR: GROUNDWORK

  Like many other rich space cities, Bavaria-12 is divided into zones, and it is natural that approaches to the privileged zone are well protected. Olga noted this fact immediately. This isn’t Cocaine. You can’t just hand over a coin here and cross the red line to go where there's more space and cleaner air.

  In Bavaria-12, you can’t get into the small inner torus from the main one—all four main axial tunnels are permanently blocked, and the refugees hiding in the main ring try to avoid the gates. The local guard robots don’t like visitors. The auxiliary transitions that originally connected two rings were dismantled many months ago, when the flight from Earth was just beginning. If you lift your head, through the ceiling porthole you can see an artillery gun on the hull of a small torus, which means that nearby there must be mines scattered in the emptiness, plus several squadrons of unmanned fighters; guards, both robots and humans; mobile machine gun turrets; traps; and other pleasant surprises.

  “Soil! Soil! Come, fly, buy chernozem (black soil)! Reliable as a Kalashnikov, black as oil, fertile as in paradise, grade A+, I give it away for nothing! Don’t want to die of hunger? Don’t want to eat plankton? Buy soil, it’s not longer produced anymore! Come, buy . . .”

  The tall Chinese girl in the overalls and her swarthy, broad-shouldered companion in a leather jacket settle among other traders in the Boiler, put up a tent, and embark on an enthralling adventure of buying and selling.

  The girl doesn’t cease to praise her rare com
modity—real soil, high-class chernozem, which provides colonies with precious plants, especially expensive goods after the appearance of Son of Thunder. The guy in a leather jacket with a short-barreled machine gun prefers not to interfere with his companion and works silently, making sure that no one gets the idea to borrow a little precious soil without paying. Despite the assurances of the pretty Chinese girl that she is giving up the soil for next to nothing, her merchandise is worth a fortune. The rules of the Boiler don’t tolerate fixed prices, so every transaction is accompanied by a fierce trade. Buyers are desperate to lower the price, bargaining for every extra gram of precious chernozem, and a brisk merchant stands on her own—she doesn’t exaggerate about the threat of starvation.

  Another package goes into the hands of the client; the rich Ethiopian trades several hundred Stalin's rubles for eight kilograms of chernozem. Olga accepts the money and wishes the client a happy journey, looking at the packaging with a well-known logo—Mariner Territory, Mars. Once upon a time, those with heavy fights brought twelve thousand tons of this expensive soil to Jupiter. At that time, Mariner Territory was an unrecognized republic, leading a desperate unequal struggle for independence. It seems that many centuries have passed since that time, even though it was just last summer. The distant war is lost, the republic has fallen, the colonial administration is plundering the new territory, exporting everything valuable to the near-Earth sector that is suffocating from hunger, and now she stands here in Bavaria-12, trading soil that once belonged to her friends. Olga wonders where the Red Dawn fighters got so much precious soil; they probably robbed some rich private station.

  At midnight according to the standard space time, some of the traders stop working, taking a short break. The salesgirl sends a packet of noodles to her partner, taking for herself a large mug of hot chocolate. German pop music is playing, and the bustling arms trade and the money exchange are continuing along the way—after all, in Bavaria, the contingent of refugees is richer than in Cocaine, so business is going well. A siren sounds: the traders are finishing their break and again laying their goods on the counters to be ready to meet new customers. In five minutes, the next transport will moor. Olga uses this time to watch the latest news—Grond is slowly grinding the ruins of Seoul, moving toward Japan.