“I wonder why there were pirates so close to Coriolis station,” Saqr pondered as the Phoenix of Hamura drifted into visual range of Rockhome 3. They had spent a whole day hiding in the asteroid field while their repair drones sealed up the holes in their hold and Olivia and Lavim worked on stabilizing the reactor, but they were going to need more time to properly repair the internal damage on their ship, and it was an annoying expense on a mission that had been intended as quick, easy profit.
“Typical Consortium bloody-mindedness,” Olivia suggested from the engineering section, referring to the Faction that was primarily responsible for Coriolis. Although only a few hundred years old, much younger than the Firstcome factions, the Consortium had built up an enormous amount of power and control over the logistics of star travel, and was responsible for the day-to-day management of space travel in many star systems within the Third Horizon. “Their main interest is protecting transport to the Portals and Kua. That’s a five AU sphere,” she explained, using the common measure of distance in systems, astronomical units. “They pay the Legion to do that, but extending their patrols out here means reaching out to ten au. Double the distance means eight times the volume, which means a lot more cost.”
“There are still mining colonies out here though,” Dr. Delecta pointed out. She was in the Bridge at one of the control panels, mainly ready for negotiation with the colony. “You’d think they’d want to protect them.”
“That’s the bloody-mindedness,” Olivia replied. “Mining’s not a big part of the system’s economy, and a lot of these places are barely scraping by. Most of the mining’s on Lubau, which is close to Coriolis. And some of those pirates come from the Rimward Reach, which is fifty au out. If they want to properly defend these settlements they’ve gotta have ships all through the ten au sphere and they have to monitor the bigger sphere beyond that. For some bare-arse colonists barely making a living.” Now they could hear the sneer in her voice. “We’re always the first thing to go when the costs get cut. Everyone in mining colonies knows if you want to look after your interests you gotta be self-reliant. Another reason they haven’t broadcast for help, probably.” She paused, and finished with, “Stubborn pride.”
At those words they all looked at the viewscreen at the forward end of the bridge, where Rockhome 3 was looming closer and closer. It was a composite of hollowed-out asteroids, five huge rocks joined together in a pentagonal structure connected together by huge plasteel tunnels, all joined to a sixth, massive central rock by another set of tunnels. Lights glittered over the surface of the asteroids, and they could see the tell-tale opaque gem-like glow of domes on two of the rocks. The tunnels connecting the asteroids glowed in the dark of space, a mixture of internal lights, flood-lamps, and the radiance of the distant sun. As the colony turned slowly in place the asteroids and their connecting tunnels closest to the sun cast huge shadows over the more distant rocks, and in the faintly dusty emptiness of the asteroid belt the silhouette of the station cut huge swathes of shadow through the glittering space behind it. They were approaching from the rear of the central rock, and as their ship maneuvred towards the docking area they could see three of the asteroids in a rough line ahead of them, the central asteroid looming in front and its neighbours some distance to left and right. At the rear of the central asteroid a huge L-shaped space port opened for them, four large docks directly connected to the central asteroid, and a line of smaller docks jutting out from it like a pier.
“Looks ancient,” Adam observed from the gunner’s chamber as they drifted closer. The asteroids had an unfinished look about them, like the bare minimum had been done to their surface after they had been made habitable, and the connecting tunnels had a battered, worn-out apperance. “I think their cannon’s gotta be a century old.” He flicked his hand over his screen and the front viewscreen split into three, a large panel still holding the visual display and two smaller panels forming on its right that displayed the station’s weapons systems, autocannon turrets on the top of the main asteroid and beneath the docks. The name flashing above the central gun turret referenced a weapons company that had been bankrupted fifty years ago. “Is anyone in there?”
As he asked his question the comms stuttered to life, and someone from the colony contacted them. Saqr began the process of docking, and a few minutes later the Phoenix of Hamura came to a stop inside the second hangar in the line of four. “You know the drill,” Al Hamra told everyone, and they made their way to their stations.
Five minutes later Al Hamra, Dr. Delecta and Adam descended from the forward elevator to the floor of the dock, Al Hamra wearing his best formal gallabeya and guttrah, Dr. Delecta in her doctor’s coat, and Adam fully armoured in some of the protective clothing he had bought, carrying a carbine.
“What is that,” Dr. Delecta hissed as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. The air was so cold that clouds of mist formed as she spoke, and the docks smelled bad, stale and faintly rotten.
“It’s freezing,” Al Hamra agreed, “Probably the failing life support. Arkial was right, they’re at the end of their rope here.”
A delegation emerged from a door about a hundred yards away from them, where the dock connected to the asteroid itself, one man in a heavy coat and four people in some form of scavenged and patched-up combat armour, lightly-armed with pistols. As the group walked towards the Phoenix two of the guards fell back on either side to take up covered positions behind crates.
“Welcoming,” Adam grunted, but kept his carbine low. “We really need to get an anti-personnel gun installed under the bridge.” He cast a glance up to the bridge of their ship, which loomed fifty metres above them, black and sleek and completely unarmed. Their autocannon could have been used for anti-personnel fire, but it was recessed on the top of the ship aft of the bridge, and could not be brought to bear on anyone less than a couple of hundred metres away.
The other three came forward until they were standing at a reasonable speaking distance from Al Hamra, and the unarmoured man greeted them. “Salaam,” he said with a small bow. “I am Abraham, chief officer of Rockhome 3. You are welcome to our station. My dockmaster tells me you bring supplies?” As he said this, as if to emphasize their urgent need, the entire station lurched slightly, and for the briefest of moments everyone turned weightless, drifting a few centimetres off the deck before suddenly gravity returned and they all slammed back to the deck. They heard a faint grinding sound from somewhere far away.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“My apologies,” Abraham continued, speaking smoothly as if it were nothing at all to be worried about. “We have some minor troubles with our graviton projectors,” he told them. “I understand you have the materials to repair them.”
“Wa-Salaam,” Al Hamra replied, bowing deeply. “Thank you for allowing us to dock in these difficult times. We do indeed have all the supplies you need. Would you like to make a deal?” His grin was like a shark’s, and they could all tell Abraham knew he was about to be fleeced within an inch of his life.
“Of course,” Abraham said, smiling sweetly as if he relished the opportunity to give away most of the station’s savings. He stepped aside and gestured grandly with open arms towards the dock. “I’m afraid the air is bad and it’s a little cold, but if you care to proceed to our welcome chamber, we can attend to the details.”
They walked calmly away from the ship, Abraham’s bodyguards relaxing once it was clear that there would be no combat, and Abraham led them up a set of steel stairs and through a small door at the edge of the docks into a comfortable-looking office. It had a desk with a functioning terminal, several armchairs, a coffee table and windows overlooking the dock. A huge starchart hung on the wall behind the desk, charting the major features of the asteroid belt in the neighbourhood of the station. Another wall was lined with cabinets and a desk with cups and a dispenser, and the third wall held a large map of Rockhome 3 itself. As they entered they were able to look out the window and back to the huge, graceful hulk of their ship, a dark and menacing creature facing the window. A thin strip of green ran down the spine of their ship, the garden under its dome, out of place in the sterile atmosphere of the docks.
Abraham gestured for them to sit, apologizing that he had no drinks to serve them during their negotiations. He took a seat behind the desk and the terminal sprang to life, casting an ultraviolet glow over his dark coat. It was still freezing cold in the room, and the air was musty.
“Did you hear of our situation from the Vision Thing?” Abraham asked. “We dispatched it for supplies from a friendly conglomerate in Lubau perhaps a week back.”
They looked at each other briefly, confused. “No, um, ah, no we did not,” Al Hamra replied. “We came from Coriolis. You haven’t heard from the, ah, Vision Thing?”
Abraham shook his head, and Al Hamra sighed. “I don’t think you will, Abraham,” he confided. “We were attacked by pirates just outside the belt. If you haven’t heard from your ship, I would guess it has been boarded and taken, or destroyed.”
For a moment Abraham’s face crumpled, all his reserve falling apart, and he looked like he was about to cry. “My …” he began, but then stopped. With a deep breath he reasserted his discipline, and the calm composure returned to his expression. “That is sad news. Your arrival is indeed fortuitous, then.”
Al Hamra spared a glance to Dr. Delecta, who frowned. If the Vision Thing had been destroyed, and this station was not sending emergency messages, how did Arkial know about their predicament? Either she had access to the station’s internal systems, or had hacked the messages of either the pirates or the Vision Thing, not an easy thing to do from several astonomical units’ distance. An impressive person to be owed a favour by.
“We are carrying everything you need to repair life support systems, graviton projectors, mining gear and water purifiers. As you can see,” Al Hamra gestured to the magnificent bulk of their ship, visible through the window even as they were sitting down, “Our ship has a large cargo capacity. We are happy to supply you with everything you need. Unfortunately, however,” he allowed his face to take on a sad, despondent, more-in-sadness-than-anger demeanour before he continued, “there is a shortage of such goods on Coriolis at the moment, and in our rush to get here we had to accept a very unfavourable bid. So, I’m sorry to say that we will have to supply you at some cost, and even then we’ll barely break even.” He leaned back, his barely-plausible excuse for ripping off the colony delivered with smooth aplomb, and they all waited for Abraham to play his part in the performance. This was the tricky part, because they were in the colony’s grip, and if the colonists really did not want to play their game they would be forced to face off with a large number of armed, angry and desperate men and women in their own docks. Which was why Adam was with them.
It was harsh, and they could see that Abraham understood this was all a performance, with Al Hamra doing the bare minimum to hide the indecency of the deal he was forcing onto the mining colony. To their surprise, however, he smiled with genuine warmth, and his voice was light when he replied. “Of course, I understand. I’m happy to pay what you ask, within reason of course. But you seem like reasonable people, so I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. I’d like to start unloading as soon as possible, so if you could just …” He gestured to the terminal, and with a nod Dr. Delecta pulled out her own tabula, sending a price list across. As he sucked air between his teeth and rubbed the unruly stubble on his jaw Abraham plugged in some numbers to the dialog box she had shared with him, selecting various components from their hold. He flicked the numbers back, saying, “I’m sure you’ll find this more than reasonable?”
Al Hamra and Dr. Delecta looked at the numbers, shared a glance with each other, Delecta trying to stifle a grin of pleasure. Al Hamra looked again at the amounts they were selling, perhaps doing a little more arithmetic. Then, with a glance to Adam, who was peering forward at the tabula, he made some adjustments and flicked the numbers back. “You know, Abraham,” he said, “I appreciate the situation you’re in.” Now that they had been in the room with Abraham for a few minutes they could all smell his sour, unwashed body; clearly the colony had stopped washing some days ago to preserve water, and the stuffiness of the room suggested that they really had dialed down the air purification to as low as possible. It was a sad and sorry situation. “So here, I’m giving you a ten percent discount, which really cuts us close to the bone, but I think we all understand each other.” He looked sidelong to Dr. Delecta, who nodded approval. “We would, however, appreciate a few days here, so we can repair our ship. The pirates are gone, but we took some damage flushing them out.”
Abraham smiled at them and flicked acceptance over the screen of the terminal. Dr. Delecta’s tabula beeped, and the deal was done. “Of course,” he said warmly. “In fact, if you’ll allow us to unload our supplies immediately, I’m sure we can at least have the life support systems stabilized by the end of the day, and we have a spare luxury suite that you and your crew are welcome to enjoy while you’re here. Also, a Consortium agent is residing on our station, and I think she would be very eager to share dinner with you. If you have nothing else to do?”
Al Hamra and Dr. Delecta looked at each other in surprise. A Consortium agent? Luxury accomodation? Abraham was treating their extortion trip with all the grace of a man whose life had been saved for free. “Of course,” Dr. Delecta replied. “Begin unloading immediately. Our engineer and our deck hand will assist. We will stay on our ship until you have things stabilized, and we’d love to join you for dinner. In fact, it’s my first time on a mining colony, how about you Al Hamra?”
The captain shook his head. “I’ve had the pleasure of living on a colony before,” he told her. “But I’m happy to accept your generous offer,” he said to Abraham. “And we would be overjoyed to meet your resident agent.”
And with that their deal was done, and they were suddenly flush with cash, samaritans with a full purse.
