“You got my creds?” he countered.
Jerret motioned to one of his guards, who stepped up and placed a crypt-disk on the weapons crate and thumbed the readout to display the amount, 15,000 credits. Cryptocurrency disks were a common currency used in underground illegal activities to avoid credit tracking and taxation by the government.
“The other 15K as promised. Now let’s see the guns.” Jerret demanded.
Calin slipped the crypt-disk into a pocket and walked around the crate he had been sitting on. From the other side he flipped up the hinged lid to reveal stacks of stun grenades, taze darts, and blasters. There was enough weaponry in there to arm a small army. The Revolution preferred non-lethal weapons, but they weren't above using lethal ones if needed. When you lived in a dangerous environment like the vacuum of space, using weaponry that could punch a hole in the wall and expose everyone to vacuum was PR nightmare. So when possible, the revolutionaries used non-lethal tactics and tech like stun grenades and taze darts. To kill or injure innocent civilians through explosive decompression made them look just as bad as the PPD. But Calin didn’t care about their Cause or their methods, just their creds.
Jerret stroked his beard as a grin crossed his face. "You know, we could use someone with your connections and abilities." He gestured at his bodyguards, "Do you know how hard it is to fight a revolution with a bunch of dishwashers, miners, and mechanics?”
Calin shook his head negatively. “I don’t care, bud. It’s your revolution, not mine.” He held his arms out wide. “I’m already a free man, I’ve got plenty of creds, my own ship, and I’m my own boss.” He added with a smirk, “You revolt against the rules, I ignore them. You should try it.”
Jerret gave Calin an ugly look and argued, “How can you honestly stand there and tell me that the population of Caldera City would not be better off without Governor Silas and his Exoplanet Corporation in their lives? The people of this city deserve their freedom and liberties, just like you do.”
“They can always move to one of the other cities or settlements. Or even apply as an independent colonist for Mars or one of its moons,” Calin argued.
Jerret stood up and paced back and forth, “There are no jobs in the private outposts and settlements, anyone who snags one never leaves it. And who can afford to apply for Mars? That cred-disk I gave you would barely cover the application fee, much less the cost to move there. You are too out of touch with what is going on around here, man!” He slammed his fist down on the crate as his voice rose. “People work every day, all day, to make a living and hope for a break to support their families the best they can. And even now, here on the Moon, they've started food rations. The agriculture domes can’t produce enough food to keep up with the influx of immigrants from Earth.”
Calin interjected at that point, “Even with the rationing, up here you still have more to eat than you do dirtside.”
Jerret stopped pacing long enough to give him a dirty look of disgust, “You really have no clue what it’s like for regular Moonies here, do you? You ignore what's happening around you and only come out of whatever hole you hide in to do a job.”
Calin took a threatening step forward, a hand dropped to the blaster on his hip and he raised his voice. “Listen, you half-baked revolutionary wannabe, I do what I want, when I want. Don’t get all uppity with me because I can ignore the rules and live how I want, like you wish you could.” He pointed his thumb at his chest and snapped, “I’m only concerned with taking care of myself, my crew, and my ship.”
Jerret held up his hand in the air to stop his bodyguards as they stepped forward in response to Calin’s posture. “Now, now, let’s not get all riled up. We are both businessmen, but we live our lives in different ways.” He added in a calm voice, “I’ll put away my soapbox, OK? I don’t want to fight you. One day, I hope you will see the truth and join us.”
Calin took his hand off of his gun and took a step back, “All right, I’ll agree with…” he said when the warehouse lights cut out and plunged the room into pitch blackness. In seconds the emergency lights kicked on to bath everything in a pale red light.
A loud voice boomed out through the warehouse, “Everyone freeze, hands in the air! This is the PPD!”.
But Jerret, his bodyguards, and Calin had already dove for cover. Both Jerret and Calin dropped behind the weapons crate they had been in the middle of trading.
Calin slid his gun out of its holster and turned to Jerret with a tilt of his head, “Friends of yours?”
Wide-eyed, Jerret held his hands up in innocence and stammered, “Hey! I swear it wasn’t me! We were clean coming in, I promise!”
Calin glanced up over the crate, “It doesn’t matter how they found out, what matters is getting out of here.” He glanced back over the crate again, his eyes flicked left and right before he ducked back down behind the crate.
“I count 6 left and 6 right. 3 to 1 odds ain't bad.” He said with a shrug and tightened his grip on his blaster.
The lead Planetary Patrol Division trooper, his voice amplified through his armored helmet, repeated his order. “Come out with your hands up! This is Captain Avis of the PPD! You are all under arrest for sedation, smuggling, and illegal arms dealing.”
Both Jerret and Calin rolled their eyes at Avis’s demands. Calin responded with a sneer, “I’m afraid we will have to pass on your kind offer. I have somewhere I need to be, perhaps another time?”
To which Captain Avis softly said, “I was hoping you would say something like that.” He pumped his fist forward and directed his men to advance, weapons drawn.
Jerret reached up and slipped his hand into the open weapons crate, when he brought it back he was holding two stun grenades and a big smile on his face. “You ready to have some fun?” he asked.
The only answer Calin gave was the audible click of the safety being released on his blaster. Jerret motioned to his guards to flank left while he and Calin moved to the right side of the weapons crate, his thumb on the release trigger for the stun grenades. Calin peeked his right eye around the corner of the crate, his contact lens locked in targeting solutions for three troopers. He held up his left hand and counted down with his fingers from three and when he hit one, Jerret tossed his stun grenades over the crate. Its arc carried it into the middle of the troops. At the same time Calin jumped out from behind cover and moved right, his cybernetic arm raised up and fired off pinpoint shots at the troopers. Without conscious thought, his arm fired off three shots, aimed at the targeting coordinates his lens had provided. That was the benefit of his cybernetic arm, once he knew the location of a target or multiple targets, his arm didn’t miss. The contact lens in his right eye displayed a targeting reticle he could focus on any target he chose and the arm automatically tracked. There were three troopers out in the open when the stun grenade went off, and with three shots he had taken them out.
Jerret used the chaos to grab a gun out of the crate before they ran for cover. “Shit!” Calin heard him say when he realized he had grabbed a taz dart instead of a blaster. With a shrug, Jerret sprayed taz darts toward the troops on full auto. The sparks when the darts hit walls and pillars created a spectacular display as they discharged 50,000 volts from their capacitors. The spray and pray tactic worked. Jerret had hit a joint in one trooper’s armor, the taz dart's charge sent the trooper into painful electric shock convulsions. Both Jerret and Calin continued their run right and slid behind a large stack of crates just in time to avoid the return fire from the troops.
Jerret leaned his back against a crate and tried to catch his breath “Whether you wanted to or not, you are now connected to the Revolution.” He jerked a thumb back toward the PPD and added with a grin “They will have your profile pulled before the night is over. You ready to join the cause now?”
“Are you still going on about that? Now?” Calin replied before he sneaked a quick glance around the corner.
“Sooner or later you will have to face the fact that there is somethin
g seriously wrong with how we have to live our lives.” Jerret took a pause in his recruitment speech to peek over the crate and fired off a few shots then ducked his head to avoid the return fire.
Calin slipped his head around the side of the crate long enough for his contact lens to lock in the location of two troopers. Then the auto-aim of his cybernetic arm picked them off in quick succession.
When Jerret’s two bodyguards fell in the hail of return fire, a look of frustration crossed Jerret’s face. “There are still 7 left, I guess that’s our cue to leave. You ready?”, he asked. He didn't wait for a reply and tossed his last stun grenade blindly toward the troops over his shoulder as he ran through the maze of stacked crates toward the rear corner of the warehouse.
Calin ran after him, but paused at a stack of crates, the bottom box cracking under the weight stacked on top. He planted his feet and drew back a metal fist to hammer the high-density plastic of the bottom crate with all of his cybernetic strength.
After a few well-placed blows the plastic splintered into pieces and disintegrated. The tower stacked above fell into the stack next to it and caused a domino effect down the aisle. Within seconds the aisles through the warehouse were buried in a pile of boxes.
Pleased with the outcome, Calin brushed plastic splinters off his arm and muttered to himself, “That ought to slow them down a bit.” And then raced after Jerret.
He caught up to the revolutionary, who pointed to a shelf on the back wall. Together they placed their shoulders against the shelf and slid it sideways to reveal a maintenance hatch in the wall behind it.
Jerret brushed the dust off of his shoulder, “Everyone always forgets about these hatches. They are everywhere in the city but people are so used to them they don’t see them anymore. But to people like us, they are another door if you know how to open them.” Jerret continued to ramble as he typed in an override code into the hatch keypad.
Calin glanced back behind them with his blaster at the ready, “Do you ever stop talking?”
Jerret’s mouth opened to reply, but he stopped when the maintenance hatch slid sideways to reveal a short ladder that led down into a dimly lit tunnel below.
Jerret gestured toward the opening in the wall to Calin, “Cyborgs before beauty.”
After they both climbed down into the tunnel, Jerret slid the hatch shut and fired a taz dart into the keypad to fuse it with a shower of sparks.
“It was nice doing business with you, but here we part ways,” Calin said. “Good luck with your Revolution.”
“Um… not yet.” Jerret said and held out his hand, “I didn’t get my weapons so give me my money back.”
Calin laughed and took a step back, “I don’t think so. I delivered, you paid. Leaving with the crate is your problem. Maybe if you are lucky, you can steal it from the PPD impound room later.”
Jerret shook his head in disgust and snapped, "I'll remember this, you damn pirate!" As he stalked off down the dark maintenance tunnel he turned and flipped a rude gesture. Calin smiled and waved before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 3
Calin sat in the back corner of Dirty Pat’s Pub and sipped his beer, he simultaneously kept an eye on the shifty patrons in the bar and the front door. In his line of work if you sat with your back to the door you will get shot or arrested. And he trusted none of the regulars of Dirty Pat’s, some of which made him look angelic. But right now he was in a particularly grumpy mood, he almost wished someone would start a brawl to give him an excuse to unleash a little violence and mayhem. As one of the many bars in Sub-Level under Caldera City, Dirty Pat’s was one of the roughest and dirtiest dives, the haze of cigar smoke that floated in the air almost camouflaged the years of grime and grit that covered the tables and walls, almost. This bar was not anywhere a regular citizen would go on a typical pub crawl. And that is why he liked to come here, the other patrons were like him, they all skirted the edge of society and protected their privacy.
Sub-Level was a maze of tunnels, alleyways, and renovated mine shafts. All the servants and laborers for the fine luxury resorts and powerful mining companies on the surface lived here. But to call it a living was generous, it was a struggle just to exist. With questionable and irregular power fluctuations that constantly dimmed and flickered the overhead lights, dingy dirty walls with years of graffiti, and worn flooring panels Sub-Level was far from luxury living. But there was still a sense of community in Sub-Level you couldn’t find anywhere on the surface. Down here everyone was in the same boat, working together to make a living on the Moon and make it more bearable for all.
Well, everyone but him and a few others that stayed outside the law and polite society.
He turned up his mug and drained the last of the beer, then motioned to the barkeep for another round.
While he waited for his drink, the motion of the vid-screen bolted to the wall caught his eye. It was the opening ceremony for the new park dome by the Capitol Building, the center of government for Caldera City. The new dome was full of greenery; trees, beautiful sculpted waterfalls, and it even had a simulated sky with moving clouds. It was without a doubt a gorgeous park; they spared no credit in its construction. But the dome was restricted to the hard-working government officials of the Capitol Building only, a place for the elite to relax between meetings, corporate takeovers, or votes on more unreasonable rules and regulations.
But he had to admit that it was a beautiful new dome, all paid for by the heavy taxes imposed on the working population of Caldera City. With a mental shrug, Calin dismissed the exclusivity limitations of the new dome. The pampering of the governing establishment would concern him more if he paid taxes.
The Master of Ceremony on screen finished his fluff speech, and with a grand flourish introduced the elegantly dressed man who strutted onto the stage, the Governor of Caldera City, Silas Drummer. Seeing Silas step up to the microphone, Calin leaned forward and motion for the barkeep to turn up the volume. He gripped his fresh beer tightly and stared angrily at the screen as Silas made his opening speech. But Calin's mind had already raced back in memory.
Calin and Silas went way back, back to the days when Calin first came to the Moon as a pilot for the Planetary Patrol Division and fresh out of the Academy. He had graduated top of his class from flight school. Being able to fly circles around even his instructors had guaranteed him a prestigious position with The Lunar Squadron, an anti-smuggling wing operating out of Caldera City. During his first month on the job he bagged the top 4 smugglers of the Otani Smuggling Gang. It wasn’t long before his Section Commander talked about grooming him for Wing Commander.
But then the Mining Insurrection happened. A group of miners in one of the largest asteroid mining facilities staged a coup. They took over the mine and held the Operation Officers hostage. The desperate and overworked miners were asking for better pay, regular days off, and improved safety equipment. In the vacuum of space, mining an asteroid was one of the most dangerous work environments around. Silas wasn’t a Governor yet, but he was the CEO of Exoplanet Corporation, the company that owned the asteroid mining facility. Silas Drummer didn’t get appointed Governor of Caldera City until years later, but even back then he had enough leverage and power to get the Planetary Patrol Division to step in and quell the uprising on his mining station. Silas never approached the negotiating table and went straight for a military response. His strong-arm tactics would be his hallmark move that would eventually get him appointed Governor of Caldera City, all while he maintained CEO control of Exoplanet Corp.
Calin got the assignment to pilot the troop carrier into the mining facility. To fly past a makeshift outer defense of proximity mines was easy, it was a mining facility, not a hostile military outpost. But the miners had planned ahead and planted explosives throughout the hangar area, improvised from the blasting barrels they used to blow up big asteroids into little asteroids. And right as he was making his approach to the hangar the makeshift explosives triggered.
The explosion destroyed half of the mining facility and exposed the rest to the vacuum of space in the space of a few heartbeats. The miners, in their haste and ignorance, had used too many blasting barrels. All the miners on the station died instantly, either from the explosion or from exposure to space. His heavily armored troop carrier survived the explosion and was thrown out into space by the shockwave. But flying shrapnel had riddled the ship’s hull with holes, along with his right arm, or what was left of it. His flight suit detected the decompression and sealed itself off at the shoulder to prevent his air supply from venting out into space. While barely conscious and with shock overcoming him, he could remember looking down and seeing where his right arm used to be. There was nothing left but shreds of cloth and bits of flesh floating around.
By the time he woke up in the medical bay of a PPD base, they had already medically discharged him from service. His space suit had saved his life, but not his career. The PPD had no use for a one-armed pilot.
So even though they hadn’t met, Silas Drummer had an instrumental effect on Calin’s life and where he was today, and what he was today.
He spotted Dean as he came through the door of Dirty Pat's. That’s odd, he wondered. He had finally agreed to let Dean shop for the stealth upgrades for the Sea Rover he had been begging for, using the credits Calin got from Jerret. Calin wasn’t happy with how easily they were spotted outside of Harbor Station and had reluctantly agreed to let Dean install a sensor mesh upgrade under the hull plating of the Sea Rover. It was passive stealth tech that absorbed active sensors that pinged their hull. Effective and affordable.
But the woman who walked into Dirty Pat's behind Dean immediately diverted his attention. She had to be the most beautiful woman Calin had ever seen, and judging by the reactions of the other patrons in the bar, he wasn't the only one. This woman had jet black shoulder length hair, fair skin even by Moonies standards, and eyes as blue as the Earth’s sky used to be. But there was something about the way she walked into the pub that grabbed your attention even more than her looks. Women of her caliper usually wore their beauty as a badge of honor, an entitlement. This woman wore hers like a suit of armor. Although she was aware everyone in the bar staring at her, it was obvious she didn’t care and she ignored the rude catcalls and suggestive comments with practiced ease.
Lunar Escape Page 2
