by S. H. Jucha
The two Harakens burst into laughter as they walked along the corridor, and Earthers again witnessed Harakens simultaneously reacting without a conversation being overheard. It fed the rumors about the strangers, rumors of all types.
* * *
Intense, but often unnoticed, painful moments transpired daily for some of the older rebels. They were parents, who were quietly searching for their children, now often full-grown adults, who had been secreted from the inner ring when they were newborns to live with friends in the outer ring, giving the children an opportunity for better lives. Couples and often a single parent surreptitiously observed their lost children from the cover of utility corridors, nearby shops, or passing in the corridors, tears often clouding their eyes.
In one incident, a strapping young man stopped to aid an elderly woman, who seemed to stumble at the sight of him.
“Are you ill, grandmother?” the man asked solicitously, supporting her arm.
“It will pass, son. Thank you for your concern,” she replied, savoring the assistance of his strong arms. She took heart — she had given him that chance at health. The mother smiled up at her son, so straight and tall, and patted his hand. “Such a generous boy,” she said and moved on, never minding that she had been mistaken for an elderly grandmother.
* * *
As the station filled up, Tatia faced her most difficult challenge — maintaining the peace. Several fistfights had broken out between militia and rebels, and the guilty parties were handed over to their prospective superiors, Nikki Fowler and Lieutenant Morris, for disciplining. However, soon ship crews got into trouble, and petty criminal acts came to light. As these issues continued to pile up, Tatia sought out Alex for his recommendations.
“Well, Admiral,” Alex replied, “I see these incidents falling under the purview of martial law.”
“Martial law?” Tatia asked.
“Yes, Admiral. In a sense we are invaders and have taken over this station by force, imposing martial law, and you are our military’s highest-ranking authority. The issue is yours to resolve.”
“That’s quite logical, Admiral,” Julien added, which earned him an evil stare from Tatia. In response to her glare, Julien’s headgear transformed into a gunner’s helmet, encasing most of his head.
Stuck with the problem of dealing with the station’s lawbreakers, Tatia borrowed a page from the UE and created a version of the Supreme Tribunal, except her panel was composed of five judges — a rebel, Nikki; a militia officer, Patrice; a Haraken, herself; a UE scientist, Priita; and a station sleepover owner, Desmond Lambros, who was a respected businessman.
The judges devoted two mornings every seven days to hear the charges against the accused and the testimony of witnesses. In most cases, the judgments were fines to be paid to the station or the aggrieved parties. In rare cases, the lawbreaker was expelled from the station, forced to take the next ship, freighter, or liner leaving the station, regardless of the ship’s destination. These latter cases and their sentences were quickly circulated among crew and visitors, and the stories drastically curtailed the number of graver offenses.
In one of the precedent-setting cases, a freighter captain docked his ship, accepted services, but refused to transfer the required credits. Services were suspended, and the captain was told to vacate the dock until the matter was settled, but the captain refused, insisting the fees were unfair and should never have been raised. Furthermore, he demanded his complaint be heard by the station’s new judiciary panel.
Nikki, the lead judge, agreed to hear the captain’s argument, knowing that ship captains and owners would be being paying close attention to the outcome of the review.
At the appropriate time, the freighter captain and eight of his crew came through the militia’s admin doors. They were a rough-looking lot, who were obviously used to getting their way in the wild spaces of the belt.
Patrice wanted to warn the members of the panel to be careful as the captain and crew closed on their table when suddenly the nine men rushed at the judges.
Providing security for the panel, Z felled three of the spacers, the twins accounted for two each, and the captain and the second mate were unfortunate enough to reach the judges’ table.
Z signaled for Terese and her medical staff, who arrived and examined the fallen freighter personnel. Terese pronounced most of the crew as simply unconscious and would only need time to recover.
“Except for these two,” Terese said, pointing to the captain and the second mate. “They will need medical treatment to repair their broken bones and organ bruising.”
When Z, the twins, and the four other judges turned to regard Tatia, Terese cocked an eyebrow at her.
“It was self-defense,” Tatia proclaimed, “and who knew these spacers were so fragile?”
* * *
The Harakens constantly filtered out the thrill seekers, criminals, and known assassins, who attempted to board the station. Militia records did an exceptional job of identifying many of the nastier cases, and they were arrested and incarcerated to await transport to Earth. It was only afterwards that most criminals realized that disarming the militia didn’t mean making them inoperable.
A promotion-seeking destroyer captain, Borden, and a militia major, Faring, planned a subterfuge that intended to catch the Harakens by surprise. From millions of kilometers inward, a wealthy businessman’s yacht, the Lazy Pleasure, which was headed to Idona, was interdicted and confiscated by the patrol craft of the destroyer Vigilance.
Major Faring loaded the yacht with heavily armed militia, placing a lieutenant in command. Of the yacht’s passengers and crew, only Captain Alicante was kept aboard to handle comms and docking.
Many days later, the Lazy Pleasure approached Idona and the yacht’s captain, with the lieutenant standing closely behind him, commed the station and requested a docking berth.
“Lazy Pleasure, I have your dock request,” the station’s militia sergeant replied. “Please supply your ship’s identification codes, and I will activate the beacon at your dock.”
“Acknowledged, Idona,” Captain Alicante replied. “Transmitting vessel ident now.”
The sergeant’s system matched the ship’s code to the militia’s records of the luxury yacht, Lazy Pleasure. “Identification received, Captain. Your berth is level 2, dock 18. Beacon is active on your ident.”
“Thank you, Idona, message received,” the captain replied and signed off.
Alicante eased the yacht into its assigned berth. Docking lasers playing off his hull sensors guided the ship into its final position. Station services personnel, most of them rebels, extended the gangway and sealed it to the hull’s airlock hatch.
“Ramp secure, Captain,” the ramp operator commed. “Please access station maintenance for a list of services. Order what you need, and transfer your credits.”
“That’s new,” Alicante replied without thinking.
“Upgrades courtesy of the Harakens,” the operator replied. “Enjoy your stay on station, Captain.”
“What now, Lieutenant?” the captain asked.
“Now, Captain, you and I stroll down the gangway and ensure all is quiet. And remember, it’s not lieutenant; it’s Mr. Livingsworth. I’m a cousin of the yacht’s owner. You’re guiding me to locate services for the yacht’s other guests. Act casual, but remember that if you give me up, my needler will end you first,” the lieutenant said, patting his waistband.
A natty jacket borrowed from the yacht’s owner and complementing the rest of the lieutenant’s casual attire hid the small but deadly weapon that fired high-velocity darts, which injected fast-acting neurotoxins into the body.
After passing through the yacht’s airlock, the two men strolled down the gangway, looking like old friends. Finding the docking corridor empty, the lieutenant was emboldened
until two slender men with weapons on their hips walked around the corner.
“Station security, Sers,” one of the men announced. “May we see some ID?”
“Is this how things are done now?” the lieutenant replied. “The good captain identified our yacht, and I’m a cousin of the owner. Surely that’s enough identification.”
“Captain,” said the second security agent, extending his hand.
Alicante reached into his jacket pocket and extended his identification to the agent, who didn’t bother to produce a reader. He just stared at it for a moment, and then said to his partner, “Confirmed.”
“Now yours, Ser,” the first agent said to the lieutenant.
“This is ridiculous,” the lieutenant declared hotly. “I left it on board. Are you going to make me go back just to prove I am who I say I am?” When neither agent replied, he let out a snort of exasperation. “Come, Captain, I’ve already grown tired of this sad excuse for a station, with its obviously freaky visitors. We’re leaving.”
The lieutenant reached for the captain’s arm, but he never finished the movement. Alain pulled his stun gun and dropped the man where he stood.
Étienne sent to his crèche-mate.
“Step aside, Captain Alicante,” Étienne requested, as a huge man came swiftly down the corridor, carrying an odd-looking machine.
“How is your airlock accessed, Captain?” Z asked.
“Biometric. Please, follow me, sir,” the captain replied, hurrying up the gangway ramp. A smile crossed his face at the thought of his subterfuge’s successful outcome. He had affixed an emergency code to his ident signal that he sent to the station. It would have come up on the militia’s monitor as “hijacked.”
Alicante opened a small hatch and placed his hand on the faceplate, which read his palm’s surface blood vessels and pressure, confirming the captain’s identity and that he was alive.
When the hatch opened, Z set his GEN machine in the airlock and activated it. Stepping back out, he ordered, “Close the outer hatch, Captain, and open the inner hatch.”
Once the captain complied, he was invited to return to the corridor where a trooper waited to escort him to the Haraken leaders. Farther down the corridor, he passed ten more Haraken troopers, armed with stun guns.
“Sir, you must tell your people,” the captain said urgently. “There are thirty armed militia aboard that yacht.”
“For now, Ser,” the trooper replied good-naturedly. “Soon there will be only thirty confused and unarmed militia aboard your vessel.”
While Z’s nanites were busy disarming the militia’s weapons on board the Lazy Pleasure, the captain met with Alex and told the story of the destroyer that interdicted his yacht and kidnapped his people.
“Admiral, send some of our travelers inward to locate this destroyer and retrieve our good captain’s people. Then chase this destroyer farther inward. And, Admiral … please try not to start a war.”
“What’s the good of being admiral, if you can’t start a fight with anyone,” Tatia replied, throwing Alex a cheeky smile as she left.
“Did she mean that?” Alicante asked dubiously when Tatia left.
“Relax, Captain. Your ship will soon be cleaned of militia vermin, and your people will be safely recovered in a few days, if I know my admiral.”
* * *
Tatia assigned Deirdre the task of recovering the yacht’s people aboard the Vigilance. The commander launched her traveler squadron and Tatia waited until the last moment before she called Captain Shimada aboard her destroyer to share the story of the Lazy Pleasure.
“Please inform Captain Borden that my fighters will be on the Vigilance before he can get up speed. He has two choices, a good one and a bad one. The good one requires that he hands over the yacht’s people and heads far inward,” Tatia said.
When Shimada contacted Captain Borden and Major Faring, the officers were crestfallen to hear their ruse had failed and surprised to learn retribution was swiftly headed their way.
“In the words of the Haraken admiral, Sirs,” Shimada said, “‘My commander will be happy to let the captain fire his primary engines without turning over the yacht’s passengers. Then when it pleases her, she’ll take the engines out and leave the destroyer to drift in whichever direction it happens to be heading.’”
Shimada had deliberately made the call voice only. She knew she wouldn’t be able to conceal her mirth, watching the officers stupidly debating their options.
Faring argued for firing the engines and attempting an escape, until the navigation officer pointed out to Captain Borden that a squadron of strange ships was bearing down on them. Neither officer knew which was more unnerving — the swirling fighter squadron, circling their destroyer like a pack of menacing carnivores, or the single ship that sat nose to nose mere meters off their bow. Shimada had warned them that these were the fighters that likely had destroyed the Hand of Justice, a warship many times the size of their destroyer.
“Captain, we have a call,” the comms officer announced. “The signal direction indicates it’s coming from that fighter at our bow.”
“Audio only —” Major Faring called out, only to see a helmeted face appear on his monitor. He glanced angrily at the comms officer, who shrugged his shoulders in apology. His comms had been hijacked.
“Sers, I’m an extremely impatient woman, especially with idiots,” Deirdre announced. “And since you exemplify humankind’s lesser intelligences, I will keep my statements simple. Put yacht people in patrol ship. Send vessel to Idona. Then go far away from us. Do I make myself clear? Nod, if you understand.”
Both officers slowly nodded their agreement, each one overwhelmed by the force and skills the Harakens were exhibiting.
Deirdre and most of her squadron shadowed the destroyer until it was well on its way inward. Two of her pilots escorted the destroyer’s patrol ship until it docked at Idona, and a group of grateful Earthers were united with their captain to share their tales of the Harakens.
-11-
Weeks after the Harakens overtook Idona, Brennan called a meeting of the Tribunal and requested Captain Lumley be brought from his quarters to attend.
“We’re here, Tribune,” Lucchesi said, miffed at being called away from one of his most pleasurable pursuits, dining.
“It’s time that you were made aware of certain aspects of the UE, Tribune,” Brennan replied.
“Should he be here?” Lucchesi asked, pointing a laconic finger at the captain.
“Tribune Woo and I have already shared this information with Captain Lumley. We wanted his opinion as it pertains to Idona Station,” Brennan replied and watched Lucchesi’s neck and face flush. He didn’t bother waiting for Lucchesi to vent his infamous temper, just continued. “Since the Harakens have taken over the station, the estimates of the economic changes are staggering. Much of this is extrapolation from indirect observation, but I judge it to be accurate for the sake of our discussion. Ships arriving weekly at the station are up 400 percent; passengers staying on at the station since the Harakens arrived are estimated to be 5,200; and the net transfer of credits to the station is estimated to be 14 million.”
“And your point, Tribune?” Lucchesi asked.
“Tribune, are you not aware of the income we have been receiving from such rim stations as Idona?” Woo asked. “Up until the Harakens arrived in system, Idona’s revenue was paltry. But recently, we surmise Idona has already surpassed the average traffic and credit flow of our largest stations by over twice, and this has been accomplished in an incredibly short period of time.”
Brennan took the opportunity to lay out the economic constraints that the UE was facing and how long the Tribunal had until it became evident to the public. “The Harakens are aptly demonstrating that our entire way of governing is an economic failure.”
“Thi
s is why I argued for the aliens’ destruction the moment they entered the system,” Lucchesi said, pounding the table with a pudgy fist. “But the two of you wouldn’t listen.”
“A little late now,” Woo replied. “Word has been circulating through the fleet that we have one destroyer captain standing off, refusing to move on the station, and another destroyer captain and major who are being chased inward after initiating a fool attempt on the station.”
“What happened?” Lucchesi asked.
“Same thing as happened when the Harakens took over the station,” Woo replied. “Somehow, the militia was disarmed without a shot fired and taken into custody.”
Lucchesi heaved his bulk out of the chair, which creaked in protest, and ranted about the weakness of the military and the failure of the corporations. He accused everybody, except the judicial system, of incompetence.
“When you’re ready to continue,” Brennan said, “I have an idea I wish to discuss.”
Lucchesi welcomed the excuse to sit back down, but he did his best not to show it.
“I plan to invite myself to Idona. I wish to see exactly what’s going on and see if what the Harakens are doing can be replicated by us,” Brennan explained.
“That’s treason,” Lucchesi sputtered. “You’re consorting with the enemy!”
“What he’s trying to do, Tribune,” Woo said calmly, “is see if he can find a way to rectify the UE’s financial woes. Or weren’t you listening? We’re going broke. Our methods are bankrupting us, and the Harakens … in our system and with our people, by the way … are making credits faster than any station or colony we run.”
“I’ll be taking Captain Lumley along,” Brennan said. “His relationship with Administrator Wombo should buy me enough time to present my credentials without landing in the militia’s brig or beaten to a pulp by the rebels. Then again, the rebels are probably most incensed at the high judges and the military,” Brennan added with a grin.
“I see you two have already decided on your course of action without my input,” Lucchesi said. “Fine. Go pursue your foolish scheme. If we don’t hear from you every week after you arrive on station, I will gladly request to have your post filled.” Lucchesi left the meeting in disgust, intending to return to his meal but found that he had lost his appetite.