Harry Flark looked down, slightly deflated. "Nothing further."
"Very well. On the matter of willful destruction of Mars Protectorate property and the secondary charge of tampering with safety systems of a public space? Defense?"
"Defense rests."
I glanced sharply at the Lieutenant who simply looked forward with his hands resting on the table.
"Mr. Flark?"
"Oh, yes. Please show the video sequence of the kids removing the foam containers from the dome breach."
Commander Sterra looked over to Lieutenant Commander Telish, who navigated to a video sequence showing us taking the canisters of station foam from around the opening where they had failed to deploy.
"Good. Thank you. Also show where the little one punched a hole in the bottles with a welding torch and damaged the security control room."
"Objection, your honor. Would you instruct Mr. Flark to refer to the defendants respectfully? 'Kids' and 'Little One' are both prejudicial references."
"Sustained. Mr. Flark, you will refer to the defendants as either the defendants or by their individual names. It is also acceptable to shorten this with a title such as mister or miss while using a surname. Do you understand?"
"Fine." Harry Flark appeared aggravated. "Show the video already."
A view from within the control room showed the door of the control room open and a pirate lower a long gun and fire the round that ripped my leg off just above my foot. I grew hot and grabbed the table in front of me, barely feeling the cold metal. Sweat broke out on my forehead and I fought to contain my stomach's contents. Nick placed his hand on my shoulder to stabilize me. It barely worked. I had woken up several times with this nightmare running through my mind.
The video started from inside the security control room with a view of Tabby and I standing outside the air-lock. We were holding station foam canisters. The pirates were shown firing into the air lock. A bright light lanced through the side of the air-lock and the canisters exploded, filling the room with station foam. Almost instantly the camera picture went white. I laid my head down on the table, wishing to be anywhere but here. The all too familiar throbbing in my leg threatened to overwhelm me.
"Mr. Hoffen. Ten minute break?" Commander Sterra's voice had lost its edge.
I looked up, immediately aware of everyone's eyes on me. I wiped the tears that burned from under my eyes and sat up straight. "No, ma’am. I am fine." I would not give Harry Flark any further satisfaction. What an ass-clown.
"Any further evidence to highlight on either charge from the defense?"
"Yes your honor. I would like to show one final video sequence." The video was of one of the perimeter defense gun turrets actively shooting at a position on the P-1 refinery. After less than a minute the turret rotated away from the refinery and powered down.
Commander Sterra reconvened the hearing at 2400. Nick and I were pretty wrung out. I hadn't expected this to be so exhausting.
"I am dismissing the charges of wrongful death. Tabitha Masters, Nicholas James and Liam Hoffen acted without concern for their own wellbeing and it is the opinion of this court that they saved numerous lives. A report will be filed prejudicially against Station Administrator Harry Flark for his handling of this issue."
"Why, you bitch!" Harry Flark jumped from his chair and started toward Commander Sterra. Private Gunders' reaction was quick and efficient. She stepped between her Commander and Flark, jabbing a palm into Flark's solar plexus. He stumbled back and doubled over, dropping to his knees.
"Private Gunders, would you escort Mr. Flark into the hall so he can compose himself?"
When Gunders returned with Flark, he was quiet.
"Let’s continue. This court also dismisses the second charge of willful destruction of Mars Protectorate property and the subordinate charge of tampering with a public safety apparatus. It is clear from the presented evidence that the security control tower was no longer under the control of station authority. Moreover, it again shows extraordinary bravery and selfless action on the part of Tabitha Masters, Nicholas James and Liam Hoffen. Mr. Flark, I would have expected a person in your position to have been lining up to pin medals on these new citizens. Instead, you chose to bring suit against them. If it were in the jurisdiction of this court, I would find that you are a despicable human being. Sadly, it is not within my purview. I do, however, thank you for providing an opportunity to Private Gunders to enforce the strict discipline of this court."
"Finally, I find you, Mr. Flark, to be in contempt of this court and sentence you to a night in the Kuznetsov's brig. If by 0800 tomorrow you are able to supply this court with an apology, you will be released. Private Gunders, please escort the prisoner to the brig and make sure he is comfortable. Court dismissed."
Once Flark had been removed from the room, Commander Sterra stood up. I struggled to a standing position, the .95 gravity of the ship still throwing me off. The commander stepped toward me and stuck her hand out. I shook it.
"I have seen bravery and loyalty in my career. It is what fuels my faith in my comrades and provides me solace when faced with the likes of Mr. Flark. The three of you demonstrated what I find to be the best of humankind and it is my honor to have made your acquaintance and to have witnessed your heroism." She turned to Nick and offered her hand. When she turned to Tabby's image she saluted. "Miss Masters, I look forward to following your career in my Navy."
"Lieutenant Commander Telish, when did you schedule the Loose Nuts privateer claim?" Commander Sterra asked.
"1300 tomorrow, Commander."
"Looking forward to it."
I thought I might collapse from the roller coaster of emotions of the day and then remembered that Tabby was on video.
"Miss you."
"Damn right you do." The video blinked off.
PRIVATEER
It was 0930 and my alarm was ringing. I had sacked out on Nick's couch again, since we had a meeting with Mr. Ordena this morning about our privateer claim. If the last couple of days were any indication, I wouldn't be looking for a career as a lawyer.
Mr. Ordena was a pudgy man with unruly, wavy brown hair. He was the same height as Nick, half a head shorter than Tabby and me. On a space station one thing is certain, vac-suits are not flattering to the pudgy. He wisely wore a short coat over his. We had arranged to meet at the Gravel Pit at 1000.
"To the best of my reading, the privateer act allows citizens to attack enemy combatants during wartime. Captured ships are declared as prizes and citizens can take ownership of those prizes. The good news is that Mars Protectorate enacted a Privateer Act over a century ago. The bad news is that you have to apply for a Privateer License. It's called a Letter of Marque."
"Does that mean we don't have a chance?" Nick asked.
"Not necessarily, but there is an additional problem. The ship in question isn't specifically identified as an enemy combatant ship. If you had a Letter of Marque and the ship was clearly identifiable as an enemy combatant you wouldn't need me at all. Last week we formally submitted an application to the Mars Protectorate for that Letter of Marque."
"Can you do that after the fact?"
"It isn't clear, but nothing specifically forbids it. I found examples of a letter being issued no more than a couple of days before a prize was claimed. It's an older law that isn't often exercised. If not for young Mr. James here, I wouldn't have even known such a thing existed."
I was disappointed that Private Gunders wasn't standing watch on the door to the Kuznetsov when we arrived. A Marine private by the name of Betendorf escorted us through the Corvette's hallways. We ended up back in the large courtroom we’d occupied the night before. The room was empty other than the table and chairs, but we were a few minutes early at Mr. Ordena's prompting.
At 1300 on the dot, the door opened and Commander Sterra entered the room. I had read about command presence before, but this small woman defined it. It was impossible not to stand when she entered the room.
"Gentlemen, good to see you again. Mr. Ordena, I don't believe I have had the pleasure." She offered her hand. The contrast between her impeccably neat suit and hard narrow features and Mr. Ordena's sloppy hair and chubby build was hard to miss.
"Please have a seat." We all waited until she had made her way to the head of the table and sat down.
"There are two issues in front of us today. The first is an application for a Letter of Marque under the Mars Protectorate Privateer Act by the trading company Loose Nuts. The second is a claim of prize on an unnamed cutter class attack vehicle.
"Mr. Ordena, I appreciate the references you have forwarded to me. Would you like to make a formal statement before I rule on this issue?"
"Ah. Yes, ma'am. As you know, the Privateer Act was put in place to allow citizens to protect themselves against outlaws and foreign governments. It was created during a time when the Mars Protectorate Navy was unable to provide adequate protection due to the vastness of space."
Commander Sterra steepled her fingers thoughtfully and nodded her head for Mr. Ordena to continue.
"Corporations have always been allowed to protect their trading and industrial ships from attack. What the Privateer Act added was an active incentive for these corporations to capture enemy ships and bring them back as prizes. The act specifically states that the prizes are to both reimburse the corporations for losses and be considered a source of profit. It is one of the few points of Mars Protectorate law where the profit motive is referenced or encouraged. Finally, the Act allows for a corporation to be formed specifically for this purpose."
"Is there no requirement for military experience or some sort of competence?" Commander Sterra asked, though it seemed she already knew the answer.
"No ma'am. The corporation is still bound by all laws of the Protectorate. If they fire on a non-enemy ship, it is a crime just as it would be if they did it without a Letter. The Protectorate does not assume any new liability."
"That is how I read it also, Mr. Ordena."
After an additional thirty minutes, Mr. Ordena finally completed his presentation.
"Thank you, Mr. Ordena. That was both informative and well considered. The Navy provides me with a tremendous amount of latitude when granting a Letter of Marque. I am not blind to recent events, but I am also not willing to encourage an atmosphere of vigilantism. These are the issues I have struggled with. That said, I am pleased to grant your petition for a Letter of Marque to the corporation Loose Nuts. It is the opinion of this court that the Privateer Act was created to foster exactly the actions of corporations such as Loose Nuts."
"As to the second issue, the claim of salvage, I assume you would like to register this as a prize claim?"
"Yes, Commander," Ordena said.
"How do you reconcile the timing difference between the Letter of Marque issuance and the actions that caused the capture?"
"Could I present evidence?"
Commander Sterra grinned. "Certainly."
Mr. Ordena typed on his arm band and we all heard Nick's voice, "Sure, easy, line of sight. Secure Loose Nuts Channel One, Initiate." It was a recording of when Nick, Tabby and I had started discussing our plans to defend the station.
"The time code on this is just after Liam heard from his dad that they were being attacked by pirates. Nick James clearly identified a corporate action by establishing a secure tactical channel."
"Impressive, Mr. Ordena." When Commander Sterra smiled it seemed like the entire world lit up. "The Mars Protectorate Navy awards the prize of the unnamed cutter class vehicle currently welded to the top of the Colony 40 station. As it stands, the Navy has no interest in purchasing the vehicle but will award a sum of one hundred, eighty thousand Mars Credits to the corporation Loose Nuts for the missiles already seized from that ship for safekeeping. The ship and its contents are now property of Loose Nuts Corporation. With that, this hearing is adjourned.
Point Ordena.
Commander Sterra stood and we followed suit.
"Mr. Hoffen, Mr. James. The Kuznetsov will be docked for at least two more days. I would very much like a chance to meet with you both in a more relaxed setting. Would you consider an invitation to dinner aboard the Kuznetsov?"
Nick and I exchanged a quick glance. "Uh, yes ma'am. That would be great," I said.
"I will have the steward contact you with arrangements." She smiled, turned and exited the room.
"Anyone for a steak? My treat," Mr. Ordena offered.
STERRA'S GIFT
"I want to sleep on the ship," I told Nick on the way back from dinner with Mr. Ordena. We were in high spirits, having had our fill of rich food and wine. I was having a lot of difficulty navigating with my new foot, (probably because of the wine) but I felt absolutely great. We had our very own ship.
"I don't think it can hold atmo," Nick replied.
"Oh, right. I guess I should have remembered that. Then maybe we should lock it up."
"Navy already took care of that. They welded a lock on the door."
"Man, I still want to go take a look at it. How do you think we can get the combo?"
"Sterra already fixed that. The locks are I-dent scanners. She added us."
"When did all of that happen?"
"Pinged her while we were at the Gravel Pit. I wanted to get an inventory put together. By the way, did Tabby mention that she declined to be part of Loose Nuts?"
"What? I can't believe she didn't tell me."
"Yeah, she didn't want me to say anything. Didn't want the distraction."
"Weird."
We had taken a lift up to the Mercantile. I looked straight up the eighty-five meters to where the Atrium's transparent dome used to be. The foam had been replaced with thick steel panels and the atrium was holding pressure, but I wondered if anyone would ever have the courage to replace the steel with transparent panels again.
"What should we call it?" I asked, as we made our way over to an elevator that would take us up to the level where James' Rental was.
"The Navy names smaller ships after naval heroes. Private ships can be named just about anything." Nick said.
We stepped onto the elevator, Level one, I instructed.
"How about Old Millie?" I asked.
"Nice. How about Sterra’s Gift?" Nick countered.
"Perfect."
We walked through the front door of James' Rental and Wendy looked up from behind the counter.
"That took longer than I thought. Must be good news." Wendy was a middle-aged woman, solidly built and even shorter than Commander Sterra. Her hair, originally jet black, was streaked with gray and she had the same quick cadence to her speech as her son. Nick and I had been friends since our first day at school and she was like a second mom to me.
"We're in business, Mom. Liam and I own that ship we captured. We were headed up there now. Anything critical you need?"
"No. You boys do your thing. Liam, you have a shift in you tomorrow? I have some deliveries and I can send Jack along to load."
It wasn't the first thing on my mind but it was hard to turn her down. "Sure, Wendy." Years ago, when Nick's dad had passed away, Wendy had gone through a rough spot. She took over the rental business and raised Nick and Jack on her own. From that point forward, she made me call her Wendy. It had taken time for me to get past the whole Mrs. James thing.
Nick and I headed through the store and found Jack in the back, moving equipment around.
"Hey bud, wanna go check out that ship with us?"
Jack looked up with a smile and came over to meet us.
"Think that's okay?" I looked at Nick.
"I'll ping Mom, but he can come back in a few."
The three of us jumped on the big lift leading to the top of the station. Nick engaged the safety protocols and our masks closed, causing my ears to pop. When we got to the station's surface, I could see all the damage the pirates had caused.
"Crap Nick, how much damage did you guys take?"
"Seventy-five thou
sand. Insurance will cover sixty of that."
"What about the other fifteen?"
"They are saying that was the damage we caused and they won't cover it."
"Fifteen thousand? Really?"
"Yeah. We ruined a handful of containers and one of the mining lasers was pretty junked up. It adds up."
"Seems like we should pay that back, don't you think?"
"Probably. Mom won't ask, though. She told me not to talk about it."
"Not how I want to start a company. We pay our bills. You think fifteen thousand is fair?"
"Yup."
Sterra's Gift was thirty meters long and looked a little sad. The main entry door showed significant scarring from Nick's original welding job and its subsequent ripping off by the Sheriff's deputies. The surface of the ship bore no comparison to that of the Navy Corvette. The angles were sharp, the paint was scored, and welded patches were everywhere.
The ship had a straightforward design. Like the Kuznetsov it was narrower at the front. The three main engines were located aft and integrated into the hull. Two were located at the bottom of the ship on both sides and the third was on top in the middle.
The cockpit was located on the front with missile launchers mounted underneath. The nose of the ship was rounded and three meters wide. The ship widened out to ten meters after you got past the cockpit.
Just in front of the midpoint and almost directly behind the entry door, was the slug-throwing turret. I could see the melted slag where I had driven the mining laser. Now that I owned the ship, I wondered if I could have been a bit gentler with the damage.
The Navy had applied a field repair to the door and put on a sophisticated lock. Nick registered with the lock and the door swung inward unsteadily. We were in a vacuum, but I could imagine the unhappy squeal of poorly matched up metal hinges. I was surprised to see a green bar and an orange bar on the interior door frame. It was one of a few universal indicators for airlocks. The green bar with the word ATMOS in its center, indicated there was pressure on the other side of the door. The orange bar which read VACUUM indicated a lack of pressure on our side.
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