Junker's Moon: Pirate Gold
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Junker's Moon:
Pirate Gold
Copyright Peter Salisbury August 2013
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or place is entirely coincidental. No part of this work may be distributed, printed, reprinted or copied by any means without the prior permission of the author.
2013 August 14
Junker's Moon: Pirate Gold
The first in an exciting new series of longer short stories.
Junker's Moon Scrap, Salvage and Servicing Company had never been attacked before but that didn't mean its base of operations was unprepared. Marshall Brion began the day with no idea that within a few hours he would need all the concentrated expertise of three generations of Brions. Space pirates were inbound to the station. They were something to be feared but also to be repelled at all costs.
This book is dedicated to
Ian and Claire
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Tradition
Chapter 2: Unwelcome Attention
Chapter 3: Failed Colony, New Opportunity
Chapter 4: Licence To Trade
Chapter 5: Test Flight
Chapter 6: A Blip On The Screen
Chapter 7: Some Sort Of A Plan
Chapter 8: Moon Dark
Chapter 9: A Long Shot
Chapter 10: Misfire
Chapter 11: Attack
Chapter 12: Questions
Chapter 13: More Unwelcome Visitors
Chapter 14: A Question Of Jurisdiction
Chapter 15: Epilogue
More books by Peter Salisbury
Chapter 1: Tradition
Marshall Brion had awoken that morning to find someone beside him. It wasn't an unusual occurrence but he was interested to find out who it was. Folding back the covers a little, he saw that the mop of blonde hair on the pillow belonged to Lucy, a mechanic first grade. Her blue eyes opened sleepily and she snuggled closer, while a sneaky little smile spread over her soft, pink lips. A glance at the ancient time-piece beside the bed showed Marshall that it was seven-ten, around half an hour after sunrise.
Despite knowing pretty much everything else, by virtue of being proprietor of Junker's Moon Scrap, Salvage and Servicing Company, Marshall was unable to remember how Lucy had chosen him as bed-mate. As often occurred, his mind was a little hazy over the precise details of the events of late the previous evening. Lucy was one of his many, highly qualified female employees at the Junker's Moon maintenance depot and, if he recalled her character correctly, finding her warm body curled up against his was probably more for want of male companionship than anything else.
Her presence, before the cares of a day in the space centre inevitably intruded on Marshall's consciousness, was most welcome. Lucy had received his advances with an expression of warmth and affection, rather than any great show of passion. However, when Marshall heard her singing happily in the shower, he knew that the day had begun most satisfactorily for both of them and that they would part, as always, on good terms.
Junker's Moon had passed by inheritance into the sole hands of Marshall, a bright young man in his early thirties. He was a better catch by far than the few male fitters and labourers on the station, and more attractive than the grizzled old space ship captains who brought their vessels in for repairs. Thus it was that most nights, he was treated to the attentions of one of the many female mechanics, fly-by-wire technicians, calibration experts, and others of the mix of employees and freelancers at the Junker's Moon depot.
In a tradition begun by grandfather Brion, the employees of Junker's Moon were almost exclusively female. Marshall had been happy to continue the tradition when he took over, finding the women to be intelligent, reliable and to have an attention to detail which was vital in preparing space ships for withstanding the rigors of space, especially when many of the ships were ancient and should have been retired years ago. For his part, Marshall was careful to show neither undue preference, nor to exploit his status as owner of the most important operation on the planet. Invariably, the women decided amongst themselves who would indulge in his favours on any given night.
Marshall whistled softly to himself as he went through the routine checks at his computer. His carrot-red hair, still damp from his shower, was short and spiky, and he wore a loose cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Although he was only a step or two up from a dealer in scrap metal, his overheads were low and his income steady. Consequently, he had invested in the most up to date computer. It was fully integrated with the works systems and a collection of interactive displays of varying sizes was floating open above his desk.
Before checking on the locations of his employees, Marshall searched for signs of FBIS activity in the region. FBIS, frequently pronounced 'Febis' was the almost universally disliked Federal Bureau of Interstellar Security. Operating as a commercial security organisation, it was officially sanctioned only when convenient. When not being hired for 'peace-keeping' by one planetary government or another, it was funded by an assortment of means, including confiscation of contraband, the imposition of fines, and by collecting bounty on individuals who, for one reason or another had prices on their heads.
Marshall's deep space scan revealed a number of ships. Some were passing through, including passenger liners and cargo vessels. There were some which had left from the Junker's Moon service centre within the last five days, each with shiny new engines or certificates of space-worthiness, newly issued. Those were making their way back to where-ever they had come from but there were also two or three slowly limping in towards Junker's Moon, either to take part in some form of trade-in, or for repairs. None of them were displaying FBIS tags. That was another good start to the day.
Marshall's computer gave him ETAs for any vessels heading in, and interpreted the ID tags of vessels, as transmitted by their black box transponders. Travel inside the hyperspace pipe was much quicker than the comparative crawl which would be possible through ordinary space, however even in the pipe, speed was limited by the power and efficiency of the engines. Greater power and efficiency were characteristics which were expensive to obtain, so the less profitable ships tended to use slower engines.
The hyperspace pipe which ended at Junker's Moon was at the very furthest reaches of one of the more obscure space-lanes. It had originally been established because the planet around which Junker's Moon orbited had looked like an attractive place to colonise.
Long distance scopes had shown it to be exactly as it turned out to be when the first explorers arrived. It was lush and green with extremely primitive life. The new planet was given the quaint, old fashioned name of Cymbeline, for no other reason that it sounded pastoral and rustic, and so fitted the rural nature of the place. The Cymbeline hyperspace extension was constructed from the already extreme end of the nearest space lane. As soon as it was found that the planet was welcoming, the pipe was expanded and larger ships followed, bringing colonists and all the equipment they needed to get started.