Pirate Moon

by C P MacDonald

  The laser light show that erupted from the front of the Sea Rover was blinding and impressive. And it had the desired effect, the rookie pilots juked in panic and veered off. As a bonus, one patrol ship clipped a station tower with a stubby wing to spin out of control and out away from the station.

  The remaining ship looped back around and returned fire. Rose automatically raised their shields while Calin twisted and turned the ship into evasive maneuvers. He knew his shields wouldn’t hold out against fully powered cannon fire for long. His meager shields were primarily used against micrometeors and space dust at flight speeds. The current government, the Solar System Authority, made it illegal for civilians ships to install high grade powerful shielding. Which was one reason it was high on his wish list of upgrades.

  Rose chimed in, “I’ve detected a radio burst from the patrol ship, they have called for reinforcements. I highly recommend we leave the vicinity with due haste.”

  “Well, this wasn’t part of the plan.” He grumbled and ducked the ship around a large billboard sticking out from Harbor Station that advertised Virtual Reality Mars vacations. “Rose, are we far enough away to go stealth?” he asked.

  Rose replied, “Negative Captain, optimum stealth range is another 1000 meters.”

  With a sharp exhale in frustration he growled, “I guess we have little choice. Dean, we’re heading to the Junk Yard.”

  “Shit.” Was Dean’s curt reply as he tightened his safety harness with a hard tug.

  The Junk Yard was the dumping ground of space in orbit above Earth and it covered several square kilometers. As the designated location for junk ships, satellites, and construction debris from the Harbor Station, it was a no-fly zone for any spacecraft, civilian or military.

  Calin pulled back on the stick and blasted the Sea Rover straight out from the station at full speed. He weaved under, over, and sometimes through the busy traffic lanes and flew for the Junk Yard coordinates with the remaining patrol ship stuck on his six. He slid the ship side to side to avoid the cannon fire from the rear and crossed the wide open space to dive into the Junk Yard without slowing down. Like he was hoping, the patrol ship came to a dead stop right outside the zone. Even the military had to get special permission to fly inside the Junk Yard. To fly inside it was a nightmare for any pilot, with the constant and chaotic rotation and collision of all the space junk. Repulsor satellites contained all of this chaos to a few square kilometers. It was a traditional initiation for new PPD pilots to test their nerve and fly through the Junk Yard as fast as they could. Someone kept an unofficial time log of who made it through the fastest for bragging rights. Back when he was a PPD pilot fresh out of the Academy, his flight was in the top three fastest ever recorded.

  He resisted the urge to slow down and continued their suicidal high speed flight through the Junk Yard. He looped over, around, and sometimes through the discarded ships in the Yard. A loud screech echoed through the ship as one engine pod dragged along the surface of a derelict ship, a shower of sparks lighting up the darkness.

  “Damn, that’ going to leave a mark.” Dean complained.

  Rose announced “Patrol reinforcements have arrived, and they have entered the Junk Yard.”

  Dean spotted the derelict hull of a large Planetary Patrol Division Destroyer and pointed. Calin flew over and around the damaged hull as close as he dared to the far side and hoped his sensor signal would blend into the junked ship.

  He sighted a large opening ahead in its hull and warned his engineer, “Dean, prepare for a Smuggler’s Run,”.

  Once in front of the hole of the tumbling ship, he punched the reverse thrusters to full to bring them to an abrupt stop. Carefully, he backed the Sea Rover into the large opening in the Destroyer's skin and into an internal cavity. With a slight bump the Sea Rover tumbled along with the hulk of Destroyer hull.

  Dean had already prepared for this gambit, which they’ve done several times before, and killed their main power to shut the ship down. “Rose, go to sleep.” Calin ordered. Now they were just another hunk of junk in the Junk Yard.

  They both raised their helmets and sealed their spacesuits. Without main power, the Sea Rover would get cold fast. They sat there silently and looked out the forward viewport into the Junkyard. Within a few minutes the PPD patrol speed past them, searching for them among the floating piles of junk.

  “Just another day on the job,” Calin said over the suit radio.

  Chapter 2

  The metal fingers of his cybernetic right arm tapped impatiently on the blaster strapped to his thigh; clink, clink, clink. If his client didn’t show up in the next few minutes, there would be hell to pay. The constant clang of the pipes above his head did not help with his agitation. A middle of the night meet in the Sub-Level of Caldera City to sell a crate of illegal weapons would make anyone nervous.

  The warehouse door creaked open and footsteps echoed down the corridor toward him, a group of three by the sounds. Calin stood up from the weapons crate where he had sat for the past thirty minutes and shook his left arm, the flesh one, to get the blood moving again. Finally, he thought, time to get paid!

  His client strolled into the center of the warehouse with two bodyguards in tow, the smoke from a cigar encircling his head. A white scar ran along the side of his head, a stark contrast to his dark skin, and disappeared into the short black hair and beard. Calin never liked dealing with Jerret. He was a street thug with delusions of leading a revolution against the Caldera City government. Calin himself had a legitimate hatred for Governor Silas but he didn't itch to get into armed conflict against him. Besides being the Governor of Caldera City, Silas was a corporate level criminal with the Planetary Patrol Division in his pocket. As a smuggler and pirate Calin preferred to live on the fringes, on the edge of society where the rules where more… flexible.

  He would never admit it out loud, but Jerret’s revolution had merit. The city government enforced harsh laws on the citizens with long work hours, with hardly any civil liberties to speak of, and substandard living conditions. But as far as he was concerned, to live dirtside on Earth was even worse. Years of climate change had ruined agriculture to the point food rations were a normal procedure for most of the planet. Pollution had made the air toxic to breathe in most of the major cities, but that was where all the work was. These were the main reasons why people immigrated to the Moon if they could, either through official channels or unofficial ones offered by people like himself. He didn’t consider human smuggling evil if the client smuggled themselves in hope of a better life. Even then, to live on the Moon wasn’t paradise. Some newer colonies and city settlements were still young and small enough not to be burdened with ridiculous rules and regulations if you could get on. But most of the non-specialized jobs on the Moon were in the mines. And the city governments like Caldera City controlled the mining companies. So it was not a surprise that Governor Silas was also the CEO of the Exoplanet Corp., the company with the largest mining operation on Luna.

  And then there were the revolutionaries like Jerret, who got up on their soapboxes and preached to the masses to stand up to corruption, to stand up to the government and corporations. But for Calin it was easier to ignore the rules he didn’t like, do what he wanted, and do his best not to get caught. And so far his way has worked for him.

  Jerret sauntered up and plopped down on a nearby crate, gave Calin a curt nod and exhaled a large cloud of cheap tobacco in his direction. “So dude, you got my weapons?”

  “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 bee
n 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 weapons 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 weapons. They preferred to use stun grenades and taze darts. Killing or injury 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 dish washers, 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.”

  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 said 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 flicking 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 P.P.D.! 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. Holding up his left hand he counted down with his fingers from three and when he hit one, Jerret tossed his stun grenades over the crate. It's arc carried it into the middle of the troops. At the same time Calin jumped out from behind cover moving right, his cybernetic arm raised and firing off 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 a three shots he had taken them out.

  Jerret used the chaos to grab a gun out of the crate before they ran for cover to the right. “Shit!” Calin heard him say when he realized he had grabbed a taz dart instead of a blaster. With a shrug, Jerret sprayed taze darts toward the troops on full auto, the sparks as the darts hit walls and pillars created a spectacular display when 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 taze 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 something seriously wrong with how we have to live our lives.” Jerret took a pause in his recruitment speech to peek over the crate and fire off a few shots and ducked his head to avoid the return fire.

  Calin slipped his head around the side of the crate long enough for his contact lense to lock in the location of the troopers. Then the auto aim of his cybernetic’s arm picked off two in quick succession.

  When Jerret’s two bodyguards fell in the hail of return fire, a look of frustration crossed Jer
ret’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 crate 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 crate splintered into pieces and disintegrated. The tower of crates stacked above fell into the stack of crates next to it and caused a domino effect to knock over other tall stacks. Within seconds it buried the alleyway through the warehouse 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 to catch up to Jerret.

  He caught up to Jerret, 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 forget 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 lead down into a dimly lit tunnel below.

  Jerret gestured toward the opening in the floor 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.