A King Word And a Gun

by Yuri Hamaganov

  Another large cosmodrome in the north of Russia will stop working by the end of the month due to low profitability—the volumes of traffic are constantly decreasing; everything valuable is either being taken to orbit or already destroyed. Prices rise with unemployment; reports of bloody conflicts and pirate raids are held in the small line, as no one cares. The Red Dawn captured another unmanned Supernova transport, and this news has been given more attention: a cowardly bandit assault that has put hundreds of thousands of civilians under attack won’t remain unanswered, the responsible persons promise. It is necessary to clarify with her comrade whether this capture actually took place or not; usually the Queen doesn’t conflict with Supernova.

  Olga feels a short, weak vibration—the docking is over. Red lights over the lock are replaced by green; customs officers have already begun their inspection of arrivals, primarily being interested in the only really important detail—the solvency of new visitors.

  The inspection will take another five minutes and won’t affect those who pass along the green corridor into the small torus—as soon as she throws back her head, she sees the cabin of the passenger elevator going to the inner ring.

  Olga drinks the chocolate and sends the cup through the jaws of the garbage collector with an accurate throw. The elevator rises to the end of the axis; the gate is still closed.

  Throughout Bavaria-12, the lights go out, flash again, but very weak, and go out again. The final time, there are only emergency signs above the lift shafts and the position lights visible through the wide ceiling windows. The German pop music in the loudspeakers is replaced by a loud hiss, and a frightened scream rolls across the Boiler.

  “Everyone stay where you are and keep calm!”

  Robots at the closed gates repeat the order a few times, but the traders and market visitors don’t listen to them. The boots of the salesgirl and her partner cling tightly to the floor.

  The strongest hits shock Bavaria; the vibration of powerful engines pierces the giant station to the last bolt. Crouching low and grabbing bags of soil, Olga looks up at the bright flashes that are sweeping the visible part of the upper ring—the braking motors are launching exactly on the schedule; the security system can’t prevent the ignition. It is forty-one seconds since the beginning of the operation.

  Despite the formidable voice of the robots, panic rises in the common compartments. Olga hears gunshots; apparently, robberies have already begun. The built-in gravimeter measures the reduction of gravity; the braking motors continue to work, mercilessly burning out fuel reserves.

  “Ten seconds to a complete stop!”

  A bag of black soil in her hand, weighing ten kilograms a minute ago, is rapidly losing weight. A few seconds later, thrown upwards, it rushes into flight—the eternal movement of the rings has stopped, the engines have ceased, and weightlessness has set in Bavaria-12.

  Disconnected power and weightlessness are the consequences of a fierce battle in the Matrix: Olga’s cracked programs break through Bavaria's defense, causing a lot of breakdowns and grabbing everything they can. Electronic saboteurs fight defensive modules on the approaches to the main databases; viruses clog up communication channels, preventing the enemy from identifying the source of the threat and neutralizing it. The next wall of ice crumbles into a trillion fragments, and Voronov gets the long-awaited access to the third axial tunnel, the gate of which is only fifteen meters from her tent. A new attack begins—the transport elevator freezes halfway between the rings, the fuses melt, not giving the opportunity to open cables, and automatic cannons spin on their turrets, trying to find the targets.

  “They're inside!”

  Olga makes a sign to her partner, and he throws up another bag, which is picked up by a stream of air from the fan and flies to the far end of the Boiler—the jamming machine hidden in the bag turns on after two seconds, muffling orders to the guards. Spider-like robots swiftly move across walls and ceiling, trying to catch some enemy in the twisting horde of people and objects flying up to the ceiling after the torus stops. Some of the guards go to distant compartments, where weightlessness doesn’t prevent robbery and shooting continues. Four remain at the closed gates, switching to offline mode: Olga's jammers prevent them from contacting the main computer.

  A short flash in the void—one of the mines, deceived by viruses, throws its charge into the unmanned truck. Olga and Andrei are ready to put on light helmets hidden under their clothes; at any moment, another mine might pierce the thin hull of the torus. After three seconds, the emergency bulkheads begin to rise, cutting off the compartments from each other in case of possible depressurization. The bulkheads rise and the locks click loudly, but the gates to the axial tunnel are opened in violation of the instructions. One of the guards, quickly picking up claws, takes his place in the opening, aiming the machine gun towards the small torus.

  Olga stretches out her hand and picks up a refugee girl, who clumsily wags her hands in an attempt to cling to something. She picks up her leg, pulls the girl down, fastens her to the floor, and strictly orders her not to come out from under the canopy.

  In the small ring, there is a fight. Flashes of shots appear in the dark compartments, and then a powerful internal explosion knocks out the porthole. Olga sees several bodies thrown overboard. The flashes rapidly move into the axial tunnel, and an especially powerful attack of saboteurs’ programs blocks the machine gun turrets.

  Andrei, opening a couple of bags, passes a jet pack to Olga, hidden in the precious soil. Light transparent helmets cover their heads.

  “We’ll meet the guests!”

  The guard robot at the gate blows up into small debris, and after a moment, a swarm of bumblebees burst into the Boiler and pounces on the other guards. Two robots are destroyed instantly, and the third, constantly changing position and shooting back, manages to repel an attack of bumblebees, but he has no chance against Lobo’s heavy rifle.

  “Take him!”

  Flying on the jet packs to the gate, Andrei and Olga pick up the kicking black bag from the Marines. The rifle modules cling to their shoulders; now they are finally armed.

  “Go, go, go!”

  Grabbing a bag on both sides, the guy and the girl are flying over the Boiler, like giant bullets: the Marines guard them from the robots coming from other compartments.

  They go through seven and a half seconds of rapid flight through four standard sections, maneuvering between people dangling in the air and jumping into narrow gaps under the ceiling and slightly lowered bulkheads. The machine gun on Andrei’s shoulder gives a short burst, riddled with an automatic turret rushing out of the ceiling, Olga, on the run, hacks the last door, and they fly into the airlock compartment, where they are already waiting for another Marine.

  “We must leave!”

  Again, there’s a loud rumble followed by a mighty vibration—the rings have started moving. Gravity again reveals its presence, still very weak, and the light turns on, but Olga and Andrei don’t see it yet—urgently cutting the mooring unit, the shuttle flies into open space.

  “Uncle Solomon – you are coming with us. Your nephew Frank deadly wants to see you!”

  ***

  Their pursuers start following them two minutes after they take off, when, overcoming the resistance of the viruses, the main computer realizes that two shuttles have been hijacked. The anti-aircraft guns and minefields don’t turn on, and it is unlikely that the persecutors will use them; they already know that the attackers have left the station, taking with them an important guest who must be returned alive.

  The captured shuttles leave Bavaria at full speed, which their old engines are capable of, and travel far enough, but still, a pair of light combat boats could catch up with them. Bandits jump out of the docks and rush forward, but almost immediately have to turn back, as a shell bursts into the void, evidently confirming the ultimatum of the Bolshevik: “Get lost!” No one argues with the cruiser.

  Leaving Bavaria-12 and taking their places o
n the Red Star, they leave the shuttles hanging in the void with drowned engines and emergency lights on. They return to the Bolshevik, and then take off at high speed, away from the main roads and large colonies, into the depths of the free zone, to the old transport with the strange name FARGO, the base of the Red Dawn in this sector.

  Having finished her shift, Olga descends into the saloon, where she meets Andrei, who is waiting to return to his ship; it is quite possible that their paths won’t intersect again.

  “Can I sit down at the table?”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  Meat stew from Wolff perfectly complements the strong black beer, which Voronov managed to grab in Bavaria. They eat in silence.

  In the past four days that they have spent together, Olga hasn’t learned much about Andrei, nor does he know much about her. A peculiar cosmic etiquette, multiplied by the rigid statutes of the Bolsheviks and the code of the Red Dawn, doesn’t leave room for intimate conversations. Anyone who meets in this wilderness has a lot of personal secrets; curiosity isn’t welcome, especially when a huge reward is promised for the head of each interlocutor. For these one hundred and two hours, held side by side, they said little and only spoke about business, deliberately not touching other topics. And yet now she wants to talk to him, because during the time they spent together Olga developed much more respect for the silent guy in the black cap.

  The contract with Borgnine meant a war against the most powerful and influential pirate group in the entire solar system. Even the Bolshevik can’t challenge all the pirates of Tartar alone, which means they need allies—they need the Red Dawn. Elizabeth, the Wasp Queen, had already given her consent to the military alliance; otherwise, Comrade Andrei wouldn’t have taken such a risk for the sake of saving the earthman he hated. Borgnine, who has lost absolutely everything overnight, no longer objects to the conditions of his new allies.

  “If you manage to save New Louisiana and our people, we’ll accept the refugees, as many as you say and even more. There will be no overcrowding; we have already lost more than a third by death, and the rest are in captivity. The industrial lines and farms haven’t suffered; their production will suffice. The treasure of the asteroids will become common and will be used to develop our new home. As you can see, I have nothing more to hide, and now I’m ready for anything to free my loved ones from slavery. You were right then; we had to accept your terms. I admit my mistake. And I ask you to help me fix it.”

  After the end of the evacuation, the Politburo no longer had the costly obligation to maintain a large auxiliary fleet, and along with hundreds of other ships, the Bolshevik returned to private status. Among other things, this means that important issues like the declaration of war are put to the vote.

  Captain Fyodor Klimov proposes that the Bolsheviks join the military operation; those who vote against will have to leave the ship. As usual, there are no such people. Olga votes for participating in a new war, just like she did two years ago, when they had to fight for the Republicans in an undeclared Martian conflict. But now she understands much better what she is giving consent to.

  “The Bolsheviks agree,” Klimov confirms the response and turns to Comrade Andrei. He is limited to a short “Da;” now he is authorized to speak on behalf of the entire Red Dawn.

  “So, now you . . . now we are fighting against Tartar pirates?”

  “So it seems, Mr. Borgnine. But for a start, we'll arrange a pogrom in another institution; I think you'll like it.”

  The plan for the forthcoming war presupposed, as a primary tactical task, the elimination of the third party of the conflict—the traitors who surrendered New Louisiana to pirates. Perhaps Borgnine sees this operation as an act of retribution, but Olga realizes that the interest of the Bolsheviks is purely practical. Uncle Solomon is now the second owner of the treasury of asteroids: just like Mr. Borgnine, he carries in his head secret information about how to overcome the defensive system.

  Uncle Joe suggests with ninety-five percent likelihood that the traitor hasn’t passed on this information, fearing his own environment and wanting the opportunity to make a good deal. So, if something happens to the uncle, Mr. Borgnine automatically becomes the sole bearer of a valuable secret, and this dramatically increases his weight in negotiations with the pirates.

  These negotiations, of course, won’t lead to anything good in the end; Klimov warns the earthman in advance about this. But to play for time and thus at least delay the resale of captives in the slave markets of Tartar a little—this option is worth trying. Now they need time, and to win this time, it is first of all necessary to resolve the traitor situation.

  The concerns are resolved quickly: not connected with routine fleet bureaucracy, Klimov and Wasp Queen quickly come to an agreement, distributing roles in the forthcoming work. The branched-out agents of the Red Dawn report that the traitors took shelter in the rich private colony Bavaria-12, from which, apparently, they intend to conduct bargaining with emissaries of Tartar about the asteroids. The choice of refuge facilitated the task of the Bolsheviks—this private colony doesn’t have an official protection agreement with the Supernova, so the pogrom can be committed there on the common lawless basis of the Free Zone.

  But the artillery shelling of giant colonies with hundreds of thousands of civilians on board isn’t the style of the Bolsheviks; they will work differently.

  Elena makes new faces for them, Joseph ensures the insertion of false documents in official databases, and the agents of Dawn obtain some new retina. And now Olga and Andrei are no longer Bolshevik and guard of the Queen but two wandering merchants who wander through colonies of high orbits in search of profit. The market of Bavaria-12 isn’t for the poor; you can’t get there with some junk, so the Chinese girl and her companion are lucky to get some extraordinarily expensive and popular goods—natural Martian black earth, which will open the gate of Bavaria for them.

  The route turns out to be complicated; their task excludes simple displacements along a straight line. Leaving the Bolshevik, the traders move to Bavaria on a long journey, making eight interchange stops in three days. Traveling in crowded refugee shuttles, flying on truck hulls, and stopping in some places that are unknown to Olga—these are the standard tactics of Dawn fighters, and the girl has no choice but to completely trust her almost unfamiliar companion.

  Andrei justifies her confidence—they get to Bavaria on time, following an unmanned truck going on the same course for several hours. This time, they have enough to go through customs, get used to the market, and start trading. They are also able to launch into the local Matrix virus and diversion programs, which at the right time open the gates of an enemy fortress for the Marines who arrive under the guise of an expensive cargo.

  Entering the station, the Marines go unnoticed into the small torus and then, taking advantage of the general shutdown, pay a courtesy visit to the traitors of New Louisiana. Retreat, the hijacking of the shuttle, meeting with the Bolshevik—all this they do together. And now, during the 102nd hour of the task, their paths may disperse forever. Or maybe not.

  The siren, a few jolts, a vibration, and the returned gravity—the Bolshevik docks at the Fargo and now revolves along with the transport.

  “I’m very pleased to have been able to work with you.”

  “Me too, thank you for your support.”

  This time, Andrei extends his hand to her—Olga deserves this right.

  CHAPTER FIVE: BLACK FLAG

  The barge is loaded above any limit—three thousand tons of lunar gravel in four holds. Plus, there are two hundred tons in external containers at the stern: additional cargo will serve as armor for fuel tanks and a pair of weak-powered engines. It may be too much: the old junk accelerates to a modest nine kilometers per second, twice as slow as usual but still moving in the right direction. That’s the last turn.

  “She is going on a straight road path!”

  The engines are silent, and the chronometer starts counting down. S
traight ahead is New Louisiana; the automatic transmitter repeats the ultimatum for the third time. The first two ultimatums weren’t answered; apparently, the Gauleiter, put by Tartar in the captured colony, simply didn’t take them seriously. But the Gauleiter won’t be able to ignore the third warning—the barge should already be visible in New Louisiana’s telescopes. Olga carefully turns on all the position lights.

  Second, second, third . . .

  “Listen here, you bastard! I give you thirty seconds to turn this wagon away and then fall over the Pluto. Otherwise, you and all your lousy offspring will regret every second of your filthy existence . . .”

  The speaker is an irritated female voice on a common radio frequency without any coding; some assistant of Gauleiter, finally, has responded to the unexpectedly emerged threat and fantastic-in-its-impudence ultimatum. The threat is really impudent, but the barge carrying three thousand tons of gravel at nine kilometers per second is a weighty argument. The transmitter for the fourth time voices an ultimatum—immediately transfer ten million Stalin’s rubles to the specified address in Freeport, or the kamikaze barge will continue to move in a straight line and will inevitably hit the central building of New Louisiana, causing damage hundreds of times greater than the required ransom.

  “You have an hour to pay the ransom. Otherwise, it will be the end of your rich colony and all of you!”