Pirates of Saturn (The Saturn Series Book 2)

by C. Chase Harwood

  There were murmurs and grumblings amongst the crowd.

  Bez held up his hands placatingly. “A narrowly focused parliamentary system will have a twofold benefit. The first is, of course, paramount, allowing Saturnians to have a representative voice in our collective security. By default this will enable us to agree by majority how we wish to settle our innumerable inter-colonial disputes.” He chuckled and clasped his hands. “I admit I’m late to the party. Many of you have been clamoring for this since day one. As with the majority of you, I hate the idea of government telling me what to do. Nevertheless, without a shadow of a doubt we are existentially threatened, again, both internally and externally. A representative parliament with a confined mandate as arbiter of disputes, overseer of the code, and command central for military necessities seems warranted. You, my friends, are the equivalent of the lords who would make such a body, but lords and ladies will not rule Saturn. In order to preserve our freedom, we must draw our representatives from the people as a whole.”

  There was grumbling and a few low boos from the audience. A silver-haired man said, “Anarchy will continue to reign. The people can’t be trusted to rule themselves.”

  Bez chuckled. “Spoken like a true nobleman, Richard, or oligarch; your pick. I’m not talking about anyone ruling anybody. I’m talking about a body that decides on our collective security. That’s all. This place is too big and there are far too many opinions regarding everything else. As an example, look at how it went with the old UN. If they had simply focused on security rather than all that other crap, I’m not certain AI would have ever fully engulfed the world. Our smaller communities will vote for their representative, those representatives will give voice to matters of security. Not as it has been defined throughout history; it will not in this case equal the abdication of freedom. We shall define it solely as our collective action to protect ourselves.”

  “Here here,” called out several people who were joined by dozens more, and then general clapping.

  Bez smiled and waited for the crowd to calm down. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now a confession: I hedged that you might agree, so I’ve taken the liberty of sending each of you a letter of intent.” He touched his wrist device, which spoke to his central computer and the letter was sent. “My hope is that you digest it while you are here, that we can then debate it, and ultimately vote on the path forward before you leave, so that you may take this idea to your individual communities. In the meantime, you came for a party. I move that we get on with the celebration. We can begin our formal deliberations two days hence. That way, those of you who choose to imbibe too much today can vote with a clear head then.”

  There were more cheers, then gasps of delight and astonishment as additional nano globules rose out of the walls and engulfed everyone in their own individual sphere. A cauldron of bubbling delight ensued as they bounced and rolled amongst each other.

  TREACHERY CAN BE TREACHEROUS

  MONTY TEACH WAS sweating. His small team of four was in on the plot, but that still left Kiviuq’s own formidable security detail to reckon with. So far he’d managed to use Bez’s ship to intercept and otherwise block transmissions. He’d convinced base security that it was Bez’s request that all communiqués go through him; it didn’t matter if the old goat was either on the moon or onboard his ship, redundant communications would only serve to sew confusion. Kiviuq Security reluctantly accepted this as logical.

  Monty had only a vague idea how Dima planned to gain entrance to the base and steal Bez’s fortune. He had one more role to play, then his part would be done. He also knew that anything coming the moon’s way was to be let past. But then there was that fucking idiot, Caleb Day, calling and texting imminent invasion over and over. How the hell those rum-runners had got themselves in the middle of this thing was beyond his ability to swallow coincidence. Then again, they could probably say the same about him. Stranger things had happened. The saviors of Hanson City were coming his way, and damn if they weren’t evading all his sensors. He couldn’t tell base security to look lest they foil whatever Dima had cooking. All he knew was that his mission, beyond coms control, was to keep Kiviuq Security focused on some as yet to be seen diversion. There was one ship of significant size that had come out from behind distant Ijiraq. Its course was roughly pointed toward Kiviuq. Monty decided that it had it. The ship was approaching at a steady rate, with an angle that suggested it would leave Kiviuq well to its starboard side by at least 400 kilometers. When it was close enough to spot visually, its engines seemed to suddenly burn brighter, then it altered course directly for Bez’s moon.

  Monty’s second in command raised her eyebrows at him. He shrugged. “Seems like.”

  There was no hiding visuals from base security so he wasn’t surprised when the base commander called in asking if they saw what she saw. Monty assured her he was attempting to hail the craft, which he wasn’t, then double checked that he was still successfully jamming the base’s own communications.

  Siggi Winter watched in horror as The Island came within shit-your-pants-distance of Ijiraq, and the hair on his arms stood on end. He could feel the spin on his moon slow slightly as the two gravitational forces passed each other. No number of expletives in English or German had caused the thing to alter course. He and Jook and a handful of others watched gob smacked through an observation window. Mien Got if I can’t reach out and touch it. At least that’s how it seemed. In reality, there was over 250 meters between the two bodies. A few weeks prior, Jook had observed a small asteroid pass them, leaving more than 3 kilometers of breathing room between. That hadn’t stopped him from holding his breath as it passed. This, this was like standing with his back pressed against a tunnel wall with a freight train blowing by. Frantic calls to Kiviuq, even routing them through other moons, including Titan, went unanswered.

  From Kiviuq’s point of view, if someone hadn’t been mesmerized by the suddenly fast approaching freighter bearing down on them, they might have glanced at distant Ijiraq and noted that it became fatter for a short time. The glass factory was so far away and dark that an observer would have to have been intently looking to notice the change. Once having made its maneuver, The Island placed itself in line between Ijiraq and Kiviuq, effectively hiding itself like a silhouetted tree standing directly in front of a slightly larger one. Pablo ordered the engines to full throttle.

  Caleb said, “So we’re in agreement? Stealth landing. Get inside without being detected. Get to Bez. Easy peasy.”

  Natalie said, “Wait. I still don’t like it. There’s gotta be a better way.”

  Caleb threw up his hands. ”We’ve been talking ’til we’re blue, Nat. Nobody’s got a better way.”

  Natalie scowled. “Well, maybe so, but I still need convincing why we’re risking life and limb to save Bez’s ass again. Serves his ass right if he keeps finding it the frying pan.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “Am I the only big thinker here? Have you ever heard of a reward? The man’s got Fort Knox on that moon. Bet he’d part with some of it if we kept his ass out of the frying pan.”

  Spruck pointed a finger at Caleb. “Now the man’s got a point.”

  Saanvi, ever the level head, said, “You can’t spend gold if you’ve got no life to spend it with.”

  Caleb said, “Thanks, Confucius.”

  Jennifer held up a hand until all eyes were on her. “I’m amazed I’m saying this, but once again, I’m inclined to agree with Caleb. If we save him again, Bez owes us big time.”

  Caleb held Jennifer’s hand. “That’s my girl.” To the rest, “Nuff debating?”

  Jennifer gently extracted her hand. “Hee Sook. Do you have an opinion? You haven’t said a word.”

  Hee Sook blinked her eyes. It was a residual program meant to give the impression that she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, which in this case was mostly true. She was so used to being in a room and being ignored during human conversation, that out of habit she had tuned out. She quickly
played back for herself what had been happening in the background and caught up. She smiled at them all. “I am grateful that you wish for my opinion. It is my impression that if the bandits succeed in helping Mr. Dimasalang with his coup, that Mr. Dimasalang lacks the infrastructure of compatriots in order to successfully rule as he sees himself doing so. Therefor, chaos will continue and will perhaps grow. It may seem like a cold calculation, but I suppose we need to decide which scenario is more fertile ground for our personal endeavors.”

  Caleb smiled broadly at the robot. “Hee Sook, I never thought I’d say this to one of your kind, but I really like you. You’ve got a hell of a head on your shoulders.”

  “Thank you, Caleb Day. I should compliment you by saying that your impulsive nature brings opportunity more often than not.”

  Caleb’s smile stayed plastered on his face while he tried to sort out whether that was a backhanded compliment or not.

  Jennifer chuckled, then said, “Look, I will not stand by and let Bez get attacked. Personal endeavors or not.”

  Hee Sook said, “And your empathetic nature, Jennifer, brings great balance to this team. What do you propose?”

  Spruck said, “Wait. Hee Sook, we still haven’t got your opinion.”

  Hee Sook nodded gratitude. “It is my opinion that if we proceed with warning and/or rescuing Sir Bez Hanson, we will likely die doing it. The odds are not in our favor. Quite the opposite. That said, I will happily do whatever the majority of you wishes to do.”

  “Well, that’s familiar,” said Saanvi. “I suppose we should vote.”

  They wrote their choice, yea or nay, on much used erase board chips and mixed them in an opaque bag. It was unanimous; save Bez’s ass.

  In The Island’s flight control room, Ham spoke over his shoulder to Pablo. “I show laser rangefinders hitting us from Kiviuq. The local security has spotted us and is determining our trajectory.”

  Pablo said, “Very well. Stay on course. Relay Crazy Ivan to Jada.”

  On The Innocent, Jada buckled in and told the three remaining robots to do the same. It was time for a Crazy Ivan, Chico’s favorite stunt. Chico grinned. Turning off The Innocent’s thrusters, he simultaneously fired the port docking thrusters at full blast. The ship went into a fast spin. Jada hated this maneuver; the sudden shift in inertia was rather nauseating, and she held tight to a chuck bag.

  Next, Chico fired off a series of pre-set harmless flares to make sure he had their quarry’s attention and sent out an automated distress signal. To anyone watching, the ship was experiencing a catastrophic malfunction.

  On The Island, Pablo chuckled over the old ruse. It hadn’t failed yet. On the one hand, an asteroid had appeared nearly out of the blue and was fast approaching the target subject, but its trajectory showed it to be a near miss, on the other was a ship in serious need of rescue. What was the victim to do? They always sent out a rescue team.

  Base Commander Sheila Partridge on Kiviuq called up Monty, her voice laced with incredulity. “You seeing this?”

  “Yes, I’m patching through the distress signal. They are asking for urgent assistance. I assume you will deploy a rescue ship.”

  Ignoring the distressed ship, she said, “We’ve run the calculations on that asteroid. It’s not a typical rock. Showing all kinds of activity on every spectrum. It’s going to be uncomfortably close. Stand by while we assess.”

  “Roger that. But that ship seems like it’s in big trouble.”

  “So you send someone.”

  “I’m not authorized to deploy a shuttle.”

  With her voice growing with agitation, Sheila said, “Stand by.”

  As Bez Hanson spun about in his nanosphere, bumping into and chatting with his guests, he received an urgent request from his security commander to come to the moon’s operations node. After the AI assault on Hanson City, Bez told himself he would give any future urgent security request his full undivided attention. There was still plenty of time before cake. “Please excuse me,” he said to a couple who had built a successful cosmetics manufacturing plant in an orbit around Rhea, “I’ve got something I need to quickly attend to.” With a cast of his eye and a wish to head for the correct exit, his balloon guided itself through the melee of bubbles, delivering him to an exit port at the side of the spherical room. There, he boarded a waiting sledge which pulled him back toward the outer edge of the moon.

  Sheila Partridge had been the base commander on Kiviuq since Bez had promoted her five years before out of his own personal detail. Though it had been an honor she felt proud to accept, the position was mostly tedious. But for the three months of prep for the annual bash, it was otherwise one of the deadest posts a person could reluctantly wish for. At 6 feet tall, she was an imposing figure. She had no-nonsense medium length blonde hair, which she kept in a tight ponytail. She was a former RAF drone pilot who had grown up with an Cambridge professor for a father. Her accent reminded Bez of his youth and he looked forward to hearing it as he made his way to Operations.

  As he stepped through the door, Commander Partridge turned away from the security console, opening Bez’s view to the primary displays, one showing the approaching asteroid and the other the distressed ship. The asteroid caught Bez’s eye first. Before she could report, he said, “Good God, Partridge, when were you going to fill me in on this?”

  “My apologies, sir. Per your request, Commander Teach, who remains on your flagship, has been handling all communications and security. The incoming rock tracks as a near miss, but there’s something funny about it. It’s not just a dead asteroid. There’s all sorts of electronic noise coming off it. In the meantime that ship out there is in dire straights and requesting immediate assistance. Teach is telling me to send a shuttle, but I can’t even reach them to get a response. Only getting their distress signal. All other communication is being funneled through your ship… and forgive me for sounding insubordinate, sir, but frankly it all stinks of fish… sir.” She could see Hanson’s eyes batting back and forth with information download. The man hardly acknowledged her as he took it all in.

  She made herself more in line with his vision. “Sir, given your surprise, I’ve got the feeling that Commander Teach hasn’t been sharing this information with you.”

  “You got that bloody well right. Get him on the phone.”

  “The phone. Yes, sir.”

  A phone was a novel idea, but she did try to bring Teach up on the holoscreen. When there was no reply she tried a direct voice text. With still no response, she said, “Perhaps we should take a walk to your ship, sir.”

  Hanson stared at the monitor showing the asteroid. He pointed to the thin line that was the rail system. “What do you make of that, Partridge?”

  “Like I said, something fishy, sir.” She tapped her earbud and said, “All personnel, yellow alert. Threat as yet unknown, but increase vigilance. Report anything suspicious.” At the sliding door she stepped aside to let her boss pass and the two of them marched out into the hallway.

  Link watched the show from his perch alongside The Island’s rail. The asteroid was bearing down on Kiviuq fast, and just like with Ijiraq, it would be a close scrape. He would be using the momentum of the rotation of the asteroid to add to his launch. One pirate who regularly did such a bit, had uploaded a training video into the robot. Having consumed it once, Link felt quite sure of his abilities. As the rotation brought him up and over, putting Kiviuq back in sight, he said, “On my Mark,” and counted down to three.

  On The Innocent, Chico kept his lunch down and smiled while setting off some final pyrotechnics. A huge flare bloomed out near one of the engine nozzles. A sign of a catastrophic failure that no decent Saturnian would ignore.

  As The Innocent’s distant flare lit up the corner of Link’s eye, he fired his own rocket pack and launched himself at Kiviuq with a ten-second burn. Free from the rotation of the pirate base, he kept his arms to his sides, his body stone still. Faith in the stealthy materials that made up his suit was unn
ecessary. He had assessed the design himself and felt perfectly confident that he could invisibly pass nearly any security that Bez Hanson’s moon might deploy. Getting inside, that was the part that required faith.

  For the tenth time in the last hour alone, Monty Teach questioned his sanity. Though he was well compensated for his work, he had no hope to recover from his farm being destroyed by Wang Fat and those rogue cops. He had gone from an independent man, carving his own path, to a security lackey for Hanson; Hanson, who had dreamed up this libertarian paradise and who’s corrupt police had ruined him. Dima had promised something else. The politics sounded good enough, but it was the vast riches that this mission guaranteed that were the game changer for Teach. He would be damned if he spent the rest of his life deprived of such things like bouncing around in nano-bubbles with the filthy rich.