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Family Law

Page 30

by Mackey Chandler


  "Only place I've ever seen one is in the movies, where the super high powered character whips one out and impresses the snot outta the peons by charging off an airplane or a Greek island, like it is nothing. If the family court knew you had this they'd have had puppies. They like their clients broke and helpless and dependent," he assured her.

  "The whole thing with Judge Morse was not a thought out malicious attack. He knew almost nothing about me and wasn't really interested in finding out more. I just wasn't important enough to be worth the time to know more. I think that is just how he normally serves justice – with no idea really who he is dealing with and no idea how he has ruined lives. I'm sure I am just dismissed in his mind now, as an irritation dealt with he can forget."

  "You got to keep this under wraps too," he said tapping the card with his finger, "or they will declare it as household assets and, withdraw all our allowances and throw us out in the street on our ear."

  "Surely I could use it to help your family situation?"

  "I'm not sure how," he squinted at it dubious. "It’s risky. Are we all just going to live off the card with no backup? The negative tax is thin living, but they don't take it away easily. Experience tells me the powers that be will find some way to snatch this away, if you are seen using it. If people like us get a little something, we are resented like hell for rising above our station," he explained.

  "Social things mean more than law I'm afraid. Especially in a small town. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if the bank would simply turn it off on the court's say so. Ms. Johnson would say, 'Oh no, she shouldn't have that as a minor.' and they'd just say 'Yes ma'am' and deactivate it. If you flash it around clerks will talk. Lay low with us and you'll still have it to use when you need to get back to your step-daddy."

  "OK, we'll be cautious, but the issuing bank is on Derfhome. If the family court tells them to cancel it, they'll laugh and tell them to stuff it. No real need to conserve it either. They'll transfer more in from my royalties if I need it It's adding up every day."

  "I can't even wrap my head around it," he said. "Give me a bit to think on it. That kind of money has to have repercussions way beyond what I could predict, or know how to deal with. Best to know when you are out of your depth," he told her.

  "That's sort of what our attorney Stanley said. He said that much money transcends race, or gender, or politics. He warned us it makes you a big fat target for scammers and crooks."

  "Of course your step daddy can tap that too," he suddenly thought out loud, flicking a finger at the card. "He might cut the card off, if he sees charges and isn't sure it's you doing them."

  "Oh, no." Lee corrected him. "This is my money. He's got his own separate royalty flow from the Commission." Then remembering a classic video she joked, "He's not digging in the sofa cushions for spare change himself."

  Oddly he didn't see the humor in that.

  * * *

  Sheddia's Ship Shop on Derfhome station was the only Fabricator that made sized p-suits for Derf. Most suits were custom cut to measurement even though you could do near the same level of fitting by mixing various sizes of arms, legs and torsos and swap out various specialized helmets and external filters and such. Most users were not fussy about fit if you could get it within a half centimeter of the ideal size and he could assemble that sort of a suit in a couple hours.

  Their usual sales were two or three assembled sized suits a month. An order for fourteen suits with support gear to maintain them and extra limbs to alter them on site was unusual.

  The fact the torsos ordered were all in a three size range for very large male Derf and the specs called out attachment points for maneuvering units, armor, weapons harness and pull tab over-tourniquets, made him decide discretion was important.

  He pulled two of his sons off other work and moved the job to a separate private compartment. If this was an indicator of future demand, some things might be in short supply that came from out system. He put an extra order in to his supplier on Fargone for Grade Seven ballistic panels, tourniquet cables and actuators and diamond panel cutters.

  Everything else he could buy in system, even cable if a little lower spec, but he had a funny feeling about this. The speculative items didn't take too big a bite of the order's profit.

  Fargone Intelligence noted the order.

  Chapter 36

  The news conference was about closer ties with Iceland. The Secretary answered a few low ball questions and was relaxed. Nothing significant was happening internationally so there was no real tension. He allowed a final question.

  "Mr. Secretary, we received a news release stating The Sovereign Nation of Red Tree on Derfhome, has declared war upon the United States of North America, due to our renouncing the Treaty of Man and kidnapping one of their citizens. Several other news organizations have received the same packet. Can you comment on this?"

  He examined the reporter's face carefully, to see if this was some elaborate joke. It wasn't April first and the woman appeared serious.

  "I'd imagine if someone had declared war on us, as Secretary of State I'd have been advised," he replied confidently. "If they have declared war against the USNA from their little patch of boondock planet, fifty light-years away I'd say it doesn't mean much until we declare war on them," he quipped and smiled for the cameras.

  * * *

  Gordon, William and the Mothers watched the video of the Secretary's remarks. They had engaged an all-media clipping service, to send them media response and public sentiment off the webs, after the news broke. That the Declaration would be denied and scorned with insulting humor was unanticipated.

  "I know you'd like to strike back without restraint for the humiliation," William said calmly. "I too would like to put a rock at a good fraction of light speed on Vancouver. But we need to humiliate them with more subtlety and draw them to us where we have the local advantage and won't be labeled monsters for waging war like they have forgotten it can be conducted. It has turned into a game of pressure for them, not a contest of survival."

  "If it were another clan we would take their lands and remove their genes from the race. But Gordon and I have talked and agree if we did that to North America, the rest of the human race would fear us so much we would have to contest with all of them – all the worlds of Man."

  "Would you explain what we have in mind instead, Gordon?"

  "Well for a start, there is a concept in human law, that has been little used of late, termed Letters of Marque and Reprisal. They cannot claim it is incomprehensible alien law. I think it will get their attention."

  * * *

  They waited three weeks and said nothing more. The time was well used for training and planning. The three Red Tree males with vacuum experience were used as team leaders and other Derf with similar experience hired or recruited. Six came aboard as paid mercenaries and three joined in exchange for Red Tree citizenship for them and their immediate family. They were all clan males, no nomads or city merchants, so they all had military training.

  Three teams of four worked just fine. Three human ships were scheduled to be at Derfhome Station at the same time. That might not happen again for a year or more, so it was important to grab the opportunity. One was a civilian freighter Fly Over Country, registered to North America. Another was a passenger liner registered to Cuba, but they had a very rigid mutual defense and aid treaty with NA. It was tight, the passenger liner was set to depart just a few hours after the freighter docked. The bigger prize was the USNA Heavy Deep Space Cruiser Cincinnati, which would be docking at Derfhome station to reprovision on the way to Fargone.

  Two chartered shuttles lifted twenty eight Red Tree warriors to the station. Some of the gear was already there in storage. More had been sent up over the last week. One shuttle was docked near the cruiser without asking. The other when assigned a distant dock, asked to be switched near the liner because the pilot wanted to do supper at Desmones on a quick turn-over. Naturally the liner was docked near the high end shop
and restaurant level, so it made perfect sense.

  Some of the gear was brought to the shuttles, an entirely innocent looking operation and some of the Derf went to the storage rooms. Split up, there was enough room to dress in armor and suits.

  The freighter came in to dock normally. Traffic control sounded normal, because they had no idea anything was happening. All the action was on the docks and the breaching crew didn't walk onto their own dock until the freighter was thirty seconds from contact. Gordon took the freighter because it seemed the most uncertain. William took the cruiser, having more knowledge of the military mind.

  The loading crew waiting on the freight dock suddenly decided to be elsewhere, when armored Derf with weapons trotted up to the access. They got there just in time to feel the clunk of grapples engage through the deck and see tell tales light up green for station power and sanitary pump out. They waited until fresh water and station compressed air showed connected and the portal seal swung up against the overhead, exposing the ship airlock.

  The flight crew, seeing armed soldiers on their lock camera, immediately tried to initiate undock procedures. However the grapples had been jammed in the locked position. The ship technically had control of them, but a pry bar was jammed behind the clamp as soon as station feed showed the ship docked. Finding which corridor and panel exposed the grapple posts, had required some very skillful recruiting of previous maintenance staff.

  Given a choice between surrendering politely and being guaranteed good treatment, or having their drive spines blown off by space-suited soldiers and their lock blown in from the dock, the five person crew was quick to negotiate.

  "Will you give us time to pack our shore bags and take our personal gear off with us if we open up and surrender?" the commander asked.

  "No problem," Gordon assured him. "I'm a spacer and understand your concerns, however, I'm sending aboard a few experienced hands. If you delay a bunch and think you are going to dump the environmental cultures to vacuum, or sneak all the spare Tritium injectors out in your duffle to delay our use of the ship, we're going to be peeved with you."

  "Uh, my second says he has a personal pistol he'd like to take out in his bag. He just wants to make sure that's not going to upset anybody."

  "Tell him he can wear it openly for all we care. Local law doesn't address it, just custom and I doubt you are going to assault a squad of armored troops with a silly little pistol. Arm yourself, Captain, if you have a ship's armory. We'll have a cart to take you and your stuff to the Hilton at our expense. I expect to be able to repatriate you to the Earth system tomorrow. In fact you should arrive home quicker than your schedule."

  "We're agreeable," the freighter Captain told them. The lock opened and three Derf entered. Gordon stayed on the camera.

  "Are we to be detained then at the Hilton?" he asked.

  "Detained?" Gordon asked surprised. "Whatever for? I wouldn't care if you go out bar hopping, or down to Derfhome, but if you can't be found when we ship everybody home, you can make your own way at your own expense. On the other hand if you would rather immigrate and want to crew on our captured vessel we'd interview you for the position."

  "Captured? Like bloody pirates? I assumed you just wanted the cargo. What the devil has happened that you are doing this to a North American flagged vessel?

  "They renounced The Treaty of Man and kidnapped one of our citizens. My daughter, if that part of it is of any interest. Anyway, I'd prefer to be called a privateer," Gordon allowed, with as close to an offended prissy fit look as a Derf could muster.

  The Captain gapped at him astonished and then burst into laughter. "Letters of Marque and Reprisal," he correctly guessed. "I don't think anyone has ever used them for space vessels. We studied about that in the Academy and I was pissed they wasted our time with a thousand arcane and obsolete facts. I guess they get the last laugh,"

  "I can't imagine what fool would kidnap your daughter," he said looking Gordon over. "It sounds like a worthy cause but I still don't want to crew for you, because if the ship is retaken by USNA Marines, I doubt they will be as polite as you."

  "I'm going to give you two pieces of free advice. One is, you don't want to do this to a family owned ship, where everybody has shares. They are liable to blow the thing at dock, rather than let you take it – and take half the station with them, so check the registry. The other is the hold is full of high end military tech from New Japan, that was going to both Fargone and Earth. You really didn't know what Fly Over Country was carrying?"

  "No sir. We just lucked out. We'd have found out eventually, but it was unplanned."

  "Well my furry friend, I'm going to the Hilton and put the biggest steak they have on your tab and I'm so fearful of you and reprisals, I'm not going to report the details of this until I hit port in the Home system. You probably have all the outbound com cut off anyway, right?"

  "Not really. We want to rub their noses in it is closer to the truth."

  * * *

  The cruiser was moved on simultaneously. Two suited figures dropped on the hull at the command deck level, above the docking ring. The bump of the flight deck had actual view ports, looking out at the nose of the ship and the side of the station. Two Derf landed lightly a meter in front of the glass and attached a half meter long cylinder to the vessel with instant vacuum cement. The three little pivoting foot pads sealed to the hull contours and they tested by lifting it firmly. It didn't budge.

  The steel drum was perhaps 30 liters on volume and had a radio on the top end, with a little whip antenna and a rectangle of sheet metal tack welded to the side facing the window. To dispel all doubt, the sheet had stenciled in large block letters – BOMB.

  The Derf had rehearsed doing this without the cement and had attached it in a little more than two seconds. They turned and looked inside, needing to bend over to do so. Both watch officers were totally absorbed in their screens and hadn't even seen the suited figures in plain view. There were no external floods, but the compartment was so bright there was plenty of illumination out the ports.

  The Derf looked at each other. Finally one pulled a screwdriver from the mini-kit on his leg and tapped the view port with it. When an officer looked up he waved him over. The man looked completely at ease probably thinking them station maintenance workers. The Derf showed him the radio control, then stepped to the side and showed him the newly installed hood ornament.

  "B*O*M*B?" they saw the man's lips form. Then, "O*H_S*H*I*T." They jetted away.

  They tried sending out their own suited crew of course. Their mid-ships locks were welded shut. The crew managed to totally dump the vessels computer, but otherwise the vessel was captured intact. They figured capturing the computer intact would take a hot entry and bloodshed, so it had never been a goal. They had an entire separate navigational suite ready to install, if the computer was not only wiped but wrecked. That wasn't necessary, just memory.

  The Captain and three ranking officers were captured walking back from a dinner aboard the station. The com line to station paging had been cut first thing and they were halfway across the dock returning, before they were aware the sentries outside were no longer theirs.

  * * *

  The passenger liner Matilda had only an unarmed flunky in a pretty white uniform, standing in the open lock to keep the station riff-raff from wondering in and using the restrooms or mooching the free coffee bar. He trotted off agreeably when instructed to take two armed troopers to the officer of the watch, who was simply informed his vessel was captured and the Captain would be informed what was to happen with it, when the commander was through with the other two Earth ships at dock and could interview him.

  When Gordon and William came in, Captain Holden wanted to argue. "Shut up for a second," William growled at him. "I'm going to make you an offer and if you refuse I'll strand you and your crew and passengers in a prisoner of war camp on the surface and run the ship with a prize crew. Gods only know when you will get to go home and we don't have th
e means to give you luxury accommodations even if we wanted to. It would be tents and field showers and whatever your fancy gourmet cooks could do with a field kitchen and very basic military level supplies. Your customers will remember it forever, I'm sure."

  That got his attention. William nodded to Gordon to speak.

  "The other possibility is we have prisoners from the freighter Fly Over Country and the Cruiser Cincinnati. You are not running at capacity. If you can take on the additional thirty-seven people we'll let you go, with your ship, for the service of repatriating them. You'll have to move folks around and double up some rooms and officers quarters. You may have to use suites as doubles and hot bunk a few active crew, but it can be done."

  "That has to be pushing my environmental capacity close to the limit," he worried. "I'd rather strand my passengers in tents than kill them."

  "First, we have four moon-hut recycler units we can send along, which will extend your capacity well past what you need. We also are pulling your freight off so you will be running light and we'll tank you up to maximum so you can run a minimum time flight, rather than a more economical boost. Does that address your concerns?"

  "Yes, but what happens to my freight?"

  "If it was in transit we'd simply take it. We are in a declared war. We can seize enemy shipping and Cuba has a mutual defense pact with North America. Even neutral shipping can be seized in war under certain conditions, with compensation. However most of your freight is from Derfhome and we have no desire to antagonize neighbors and allies. It will simply be returned to the holders and forwarders, for delayed shipping,"

  "We doubt if any Earth ships will risk docking here until hostilities end. But folks will get around that by trans-shipping through third parties I'm sure."

  "Take it or leave it," William interjected gruffly like he was weary of discussion. "I doubt the company would pay much to ransom you, but I bet they'd pay a sweet sum to get this ship back."

 

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