by AJ Vega
Once upon a time, Deimos-1 was a symbol of stellar power for the UEP. However, after the formation of the Martian Confederacy and the subsequent war that followed between the two stellar nations, its future came into question and it was on its way to being plunged into the Martian atmosphere by the UEP.
It nearly started another interstellar conflict until a wealthy mogul stepped in to lease it from the UEP until December 2271, when it is destined to fall back into the Confederacy’s ownership per the Treaty of Phobos. Under its temporary ownership, it degenerated into an adult entertainment pleasure port, to the chagrin of both nations.
Julius casually maneuvered Merciless Errands around Deimos-1. The station was saucer-shaped with multiple torus levels. The main torus had six flat docking platforms situated at the outer edges, all filled with shuttles from customers. A holographic animation danced on top of the core section: an exotic dancer performing her seductive routine to entice customers inside.
Focusing his attention on the docking platforms, Julius conducted a fly-by and counted a few dozen shuttles on one of them.
“Murdock,” he said. “Run the transponder codes from those shuttles through the database. I want to know if we’ve had any encounters with them.”
“Aye,” Murdock said.
Julius swung the ship closer to the platform, slowing to a hover over it.
“Anything on this one?” he said.
Murdock shook his head. “No, just ran the last of them through and nothing.”
Julius sped over to the next platform. Curiously, he noted fewer shuttles on this one. As he did before, he slowed their craft to a hover.
“Got something,” Murdock said, pointing. “All of those. They match Stromond’s ships. And that executive shuttle in the center—it’s Stromond’s personal yacht!”
“Stromond’s yacht?” Julius said. “I wonder how much they fought over trying to get their hands on that one.”
Murdock whistled. “That is a nice ship. We should take it.”
“No,” Julius said. “It’s that type of extravagant spending that probably alerted Enforcement to his activities in the first place. If we recruit this bunch, the yacht gets sold.”
“You’re no fun, Julius,” Murdock said.
Julius took Merciless Errands down to the same platform and began to put her down.
“What’re you doing?” Murdock said. “You’re landing?”
“Yes,” Julius said.
The shuttle touched the platform and the plasma thrusters cut off. Julius tapped a screen on the flat-panel displays. Outside, he could see the umbilical docking ring come up from the ground and begin to move toward the shuttle’s airlock.
“Why are we landing? I thought we were just going to do a fly-by.”
“Change of plan,” Julius said. “I want to see this bunch for myself before I recruit them.”
Murdock stared at the archaic umbilical ring. It looked like a mechanical worm trying to devour the shuttle. A slight shudder was heard as the airlock and docking ring pressurized.
“I’m not walking in that thing! Forget it!” Murdock said. “I can’t believe they don’t have a pressure dome on this platform.”
“You won’t need to walk anywhere. You’re staying behind,” Julius said. “I want you to rig their ships with explosives. And if you have time, fix our gravitational warp engines.” Julius stood up from the pilot seat and began stripping off the space suit.
“Explosives? Why?” Murdock said.
“A precautionary move. I want to be able to remote detonate them from in here. Get to it—they need to be ready by the time I get back.”
Julius stepped out into the airlock, leaving Murdock behind. The external airlock door was already open and he stepped out into the umbilical docking ring. A dizzying array of multicolored lights lit the way ahead. The lights flashed in sequence, making the onlooker feel as if he were flying at high speed through the ring.
Julius could feel his feet lighten as zero-g took over. Using lit handrails along the walls, he pushed himself forward. As he reached the other end of the ring, he could see more holographic dancers doing a show for him, beckoning him farther inside.
As he got closer, his feet slowly dropped to the ground as gravity gradually took over. It felt like a full “g” by the time he reached the entryway. He went through and entered the corridor of the outer torus.
The outer torus was more subdued and looked more like a hotel resort lobby than an exotic entertainment station. Towering over him as he walked in was an elegant water fountain that seemed out of place. Red velvet carpeting lined the floors of the torus. To either side of him were other umbilical docking ring entrances; each one had a plush sitting area with red couches that matched the carpeting.
He could see other customers in the corridor arriving and leaving. Julius examined them each as closely as he could, but he did not recognize any of them from the files as Stromond’s men.
Julius left the outer torus and entered a corridor that led to the main entertainment torus. Inside, the corridor’s walls were made of transparent metal, affording a breathtaking view of the stars. He soon entered the entertainment torus and was greeted with the sound of blaring music and rowdy voices.
The entertainment torus was essentially a long, circular corridor comprising multiple bars, seating tables, and exotic dancers dancing on zero-g tables. The corridor segmented into sections, each with its own theme and decor.
He walked down the corridor, planning to go the length of the torus until he could find the pilots. After passing a few sections, he entered one that was themed in fiery red colors and holographic flames going up the walls— it was here he finally saw them seated at a table.
Julius casually walked over to an adjacent bar opposite the pilots. One of the exotic dancers stole his attention. He watched the topless woman perform on top of a zero-g table. She floated and danced above the table, playing to the crowd of onlookers as she gyrated her hips. She continued to do her dance even as she began to spin upside down.
Holographic flames from the table below launched up toward her. She played into the scene by struggling to kick away from the flames, propelling herself higher into the air. Imaginary hands, with red skin and black talons, emerged from below. She tried to kick away as they tried to pull her down into the flames.
Her pretend struggle ended when a bright flash of light engulfed her; both dancer and demon vanished. The pilots erupted with applause and whistling, drowning out the other patrons.
Julius reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet—a bi-fold with one side showing a small control interface and the other a hexagonal-shaped indentation. He reached over to a pile of zero-value coins that were stacked and inserted one into his wallet.
The display lit up and Julius tapped some keys, filling the coin’s value from his own personal account. He called the bartender over, pointing to the display of his wallet.
“What do you need?” the bartender said.
Julius motioned over to Stromond’s group.
“How long has that bunch been here?”
“Those goons?” he said. “Almost my whole shift, six hours at least. Cheap bunch. No tips at all. It’s like they’re out of money or something; they haven’t bought a drink in hours. But you wouldn’t think it looking at them.”
Julius handed him the coin.
“I want you to buy them a few rounds of whatever they were having. But I don’t want them knowing where it came from. Tell them they sat at the lucky table or something.”
“I doubt they’ll question free drinks,” the bartender said.
He took the coin from Julius and inserted it into his own wallet, emptying its value into his account. He then tossed the worthless zero-value coin onto the bar with the rest— the transfer of untraceable funds was complete.
Julius sat back and waited. Soon the group received their drinks. They began to drink almost before the mugs touched
the table. After ordering a drink of his own, Julius sipped from a mug of beer. It had been awhile since he sampled some decent booze.
He watched and waited until the group was on their third round of drinks before making a move. He then walked over, beer in hand and joined them. They turned their attention from the dancers to the uninvited guest. They all gave him the same sneer. Julius smiled in return.
“Who the hell asked you to sit with us, smiley?” one said.
“That’s no way to talk to a future employer,” Julius said.
The same one raised an eyebrow, then asked, “Where’s Laina? We weren’t supposed to meet for another few hours.”
“Change of plan— she’s not coming. I’m Julius. Who are you?” he said.
Julius already knew their faces from the dossier that Laina had sent him, but he wasn’t going to make it easier for them.
“I’m Reece,” he said, then proceeded to point to the others and name them as well.
Reece himself looked like a rough-and-tumble character, with a bad scar on his left cheek and an unkempt beard. The picture in the dossier did not have a scar— perhaps a recent cosmetic accessory.
“I’m the leader,” Reece said once he was through with the introductions.
“Bullshit,” one of the others said.
“Shut up, Cronin,” Reece said. “I have Stromond’s shuttle and that alone makes me leader.”
“What happened to Stromond, Reece?” Julius said.
Reece took a sip.
“He got careless”, he said. “He let some new guy into the operation who turned out to have mixed loyalties. He fed information to Enforcement about the operation. Eventually, once the UEP drained him of any useful information about Stromond, they sent the dogs on us.”
Reece silently stared into his mug a moment before continuing.
“Those bastards came at us with a lot of firepower—not just Enforcer ships, but some capital ships they must have resurrected from the UEP Navy. They took out our fighter bay before we could even man a single ship. All the fighters were destroyed and the only thing left was a shuttle port. So a group of us decided to make a run; we grabbed what shuttles we could and jumped out in the confusion. I ended up with Stromond’s prize.”
“What was your role?” Julius said.
“I commanded the defensive squadron,” Reece said. “We provided cover for his shipments. Protecting it from other pirates and any Enforcer patrols that got too close. We’re all combat pilots—good ones, too. But, uh… we’re willing to fill any job that you need.”
“As long as there’s good money involved, and I’m not scrubbing floors,” said the one named Tash.
Reece turned to Tash and gave him an admonishing look.
Julius glanced around the table. He had heard that Stromond had some excellent pilots. With the loss of many of Wolf Squadron’s best, he could use some new blood.
“All right,” Julius said. “You know the charter?”
Reece nodded. “Yeah, Laina gave it to us. It’s pretty much the same as Stromond’s; we don’t have a problem with it. What she didn’t tell us, though, was pay.”
“What’s our percentage of the plunder?” Cronin asked.
“It’s even among all the crew at the end of the tour,” Julius said. “Your regular pay depends on your rank and position.”
Reece glanced at Cronin, then back at Julius uneasily.
“What’s this pay amount to?” Reece said.
“Crew will get between a thousand and fifteen hundred credits a week, depending on specialty and position. Officers will get between two thousand and four thousand, depending on rank. Everyone gets life insurance and benefits. Debilitating injuries are compensated for depending on severity. You will all get a copy of all this when you sign on. “
Reece sat back and looked at the others. “You sound like a damn corporation. Do we get uniforms, too?”
The group began to laugh.
“Just pilot uniforms,” Julius said. “If you all sign on, you’ll be flying in our squadron.”
They all stopped laughing.
Reece looked at him. “You have a squadron of fighters— real fighters? Not a bunch of converted transports?”
“Yes,” Julius said. “Z-12s, Z-33s, even a few Z-40 Interceptors. Are you interested?”
Reece looked at the others.
“There’s got to be some kind of catch here.”
“Of course there is,” Julius said. “This isn’t going to be a stroll in the park. You’re not playing security guards for Elation shipments—which by the way, we will never deal in. Your job will be to attack and plunder transport ships. These convoys can sometimes be heavily guarded. Death’s bony hand will be knocking on your cockpit every day.”
“No problem,” Reece said. “We aren’t scared of any of that.”
“Don’t be so quick,” Julius said. “You will be hunted by UEP Enforcers and probably the Confed, too. And they will likely hunt you the rest of your lives.”
Julius pulled out a digital pad out of his jacket and laid it on the table in front of them.
“If you think you can handle it, press your hand to the charter. That is your binding oath to the crew.”
The group all looked to Reece, waiting for his decision. Reece shifted his gaze to Julius and squinted his eyes. Julius parried him with his own stare down. The attempt at intimidation continued for what seemed like a full minute.
Reece suddenly slapped his hand down on the charter and then let out a boisterous laugh, the others yelling and cheering with him. After it finally died down, he turned to Julius— a smile on his face.
“So,” Reece said, as he sipped his drink. “What’s our first assignment, Captain?”
“Shore leave at New Las Vegas,” Julius said.
Reece laughed, but noticed Julius was not smiling. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No,” Julius said.
Reece began to laugh again even louder. “Slap me, mates, I think I died and went to pirate heaven.”
The others obliged.