Dead Earth
futuristic science fiction from the Scry Capers universe
Breen was in over his head, he could tell that much. But when the crowd in the arcade pit had started to close in on the man with the ears, Breen had stepped up beside him without thinking. The man was tall, with dark skin, and when his hat had gotten knocked off revealing ears that were, fox? cat? well, several of the crowd were Colony Loyalists, and they began hissing things like “shifter” and “genie” and one of them shoved the man from behind. Breen shoved that man back, and when the man with the ears had darted away through the crowd Breen didn’t fancy being left alone with a bunch of loyalist knucklers, so he dipped along with him.
They exited into an alley through a door that caused alarms to sound, and footed it fast just ahead of a six pack of the loyalists, turned a corner, and found themselves trapped in a dead end alley. The man with the ears was pressing buttons on his belt.
“Hey,” said Breen, “those guys are gonna be –“ and then they were, and it was too late.
Three of them turned out to have sticks of some kind, and two of those went for Mr. Ears while the other one paired up with an unarmed buddy of his to lay into Breen.
It was happening too fast for him to keep track of, he took a numbing blow to the shoulder, landed a punch to someone’s ribs, caught a fist on his cheekbone, grabbed a wrist and yanked someone hard into the wall to his back. The three combatants next to him were a busy blur “Get them down so we can tie ‘em” yelled one of the two still in the mouth of the alley, and Breen had an ankle kicked out from under him and went to one knee. The man with the ears and his attackers brushed by him and the attacker facing Breen was sort of gathered into that brawl. “Fuck!” somebody shouted, as someone else screamed in horror and pain, and all of a sudden there was nothing happening, as the group of men stood back from them.
Breen stood back up. The man he’d yanked into the wall had retreated halfway down the alley and was leaned over with his hands on his knees pouring blood out of his nose. One of the others was in a crumpled heap at the feet of the dude with ears, a messy hole in the side of his neck. Ears, crouching slightly, was covered in blood and grinning a fanged expression devoid of humor.
“You gene-shifted piece of shit,” said one of the men, stepping through the rest to stand in front of them. He unzipped his light jacket, and they could see the butt of a gun holstered under his arm. “you’re gonna die”
“I may,” said the man with the ears, “ but you definitely will. I’m a Galloglas”
That seemed to faze the man facing them, and he stopped. Into the second he spent frozen, a woman’s voice sounded from the mouth of the alley. “Hoy, Jackal, you need a hand in here?”
The man with the ears, Jackal, wiped his hands on the back of his pants and straightened, “Good to see you Captain, these fellows and I were just playing a game of Guess Who’ll Die”
“Oh,” she looking at the men in front of her “for fun? Or, are we taking bets. Because I bet it’s them.”
Their attackers were stuck between Jackal, Breen, and the woman behind them, and they didn’t like that at all. Some of them had turned and Breen got a look at her, leaning a shoulder against the wall nonchalantly, one hand hanging loose near her hips while she inspected the nails of the other. One of the loyalists glanced back at Jackal, looked at her again, said “Fuck this” and left, edging very carefully past the woman at end of the alley. The guy with the busted nose went with him.
“And then there were three,” said the woman, tilting her head and looking at the remaining men with mild interest.
The guy with the gun said “Galloglas, hunh?”
“I am,” said the woman.
“I hear you folks think you’re hot shit”
“Some people seem to think so,” she shrugged
The man with the shoulder holster sneered, “Well I think –“ and his hand snaked under his arm.
“He’s – !“ Breen started to shout a warning, but suddenly the woman’s fist had a pistol in it and she had somehow already fired three shots and was holstering it before the man ever got his own weapon out.
“– got a gun…” Breen finished, shocked, looking down at the three dead men.
The woman ignored him and brushed past, going to Jackal. “You okay, Jacks?”
“Yeah, lost my hat, these fools got a look at my ears, made a thing out of it. Sorry, Captain”
“Here,” she said, unwinding a scarf from her neck and handing to Jackal, who used it as a headscarf to conceal his ears once more. “Who’s your friend?” she asked him, indicating Breen with her head.
“Dunno, he stepped up when these colony boys closed on me in the arcade.”
“Any good?”
Jackal lifted a shoulder “He can take a punch”
“Hey,” said Breen, “Hey! I’m like, right here”
Neither of them looked at him; Jackal grinned. “Sticks up for himself” he observed, then quirked an eyebrow, “and for others…”
“Right,” said the woman, turning to face Breen “I’m Hex, what’s your name?”
“I’m Freghzer Breenlund, from Americo Lunar 4, but my friends call me Breen; nice to meet you” he said, holding out his hand.
Hex left his hand hanging there and squinted at him in amused judgement “You always tell such long stories Breen?” Before he could come up with a reply she said “C’mon fresh-face, this is an awful lot of dead bodies for this part of the system, we gotta get out of here. But first you’re gonna help me an’ Jacks stick these fuckers in bottom of this garbage tank.”
A little while later, they arrived at a bar. Well, a place that sold alcohol and had places to sit, anyway. Jackal had led them there, saying “the drinks would be overpriced if they paid you to have one, but nobody’s likely to notice some suspicious stains. Or a gunbelt, probably” eyeballing his captain, who had rolled her eyes and shrugged into a long thin coat from her small pack.
Hex sniffed her shot glass and set it carefully back down. Wouldn’t do to spill it, she mused, probably melt the table. Her crewman Jacques was sitting comfortably looking around the room in an idle, way, but she’d known ol’ Jackal for so many years she could tell when he was on edge.
And embarrassed. He was supposed to stay on the low, not cause a four body pile-up - that was shitty, she caught herself, he shouldn’t have to be embarrassed that those bigots were willing to fight to the death over their hatred of what, of who, he was. This trouble was not his fault, and she’d have to be sure to remind him she knew that when there was time. It was still trouble though, and had to be dealt with.
“How’d the thing go,” she asked him. He looked at her and gave a very small shake of his head. Ah. Well, the bad luck was just rolling in today, wasn’t it. She briefly laid her hand on his while looking directly into his eyes, broadcasting reassurance and respect. He blinked and nodded slightly and took a deep breath. Went back to scanning the room for trouble.
Fresh-face had almost stopped choking on the shot he had downed. Dumb-ass from the Triad Lunar Colonies. Sure was pretty though. “Hey kid,” she said, wondering how old he was “ if you’re from Americo 4, whatchew doin’ in the Euro Quarters? Run away from home?”
“What? I’m-“ he coughed again, “I’m like, the same age you are.”
“Doubtful” said Hex, baiting him, rolling her eyes.
“Well” he seemed less sure, “I’m no kid, anyway. I’m 32 years old”
That wasn’t so bad. Carried himself like he was ten years younger though, fucking colonists. “So what brings you to the EQ?”
Breen’s eyes went sideways, and he ducked his head slightly as he mumbled “tried to win the VR Sprite Class Obstacle Open”
Hex narrowed her eyes “Really. VR pilot, are you?”
“No.”
“No?!”
“No, I’m an actual pilot. Real ships.”
Hex laughed “Oh no, Breeny, Breeny no, tell me you didn’t think you could win in the Lunar Pro VR racing circuit because you can fly a real ship.”
“Yes. I’m good at it.” he declared sullenly.
“Oh! Well then,” she responded too cheerfully, “I didn’t realize you were a good pilot. Won the Sprite Obstacle Cup no problem then, I imagine, good pilot like you, hmm?”
She could see he didn’t like it, but he just looked down into his empty shot glass. “No.”
Awww. She stopped teasing. “So… how’d you do?”
“Lost in the 5th heat”
Shit, that wasn’t bad, really. For a non-pro newbie. “Don’t feel too down, Breeny, VR is very similar to reality, but it’s not exactly the same as racing a real ship, and the people you were racing, they live in that difference every day.”
“Yeah,” he said bitterly, “I sort of caught on to that”
“So what is it that has a good pilot like you entering the VR pro racing circuit, anyway? Can’t find a real ship to fly?”
Breen sighed a big sigh. “That’s not it. I have a ship, nice little sprite class hauler. Saved up for a decade, thought I found one just needed a bunch of cosmetic work, real good price. Then as soon as I bought the ship, these new licensing fees got voted in, plus it turns out the guy I bought from had rigged the torque rings with fucking pig iron bearings – worked fine for the test flight, broke the bearings to pieces on the way back to Luna. Half melted one of the torque rings and damaged some of the back end frame running her dirty to get to a dock.” He stared morosely at the table top, drawing invisible circles with the bottom of his empty shot glass. “By the time I had the paperwork cleared and the frame repairs done, replaced the inner ring and outfitted it with proper chromed titanium bearings, I’d spent all the money I had saved to start my first venture. So. Got a ship. Got a crew even. But I’m broke and I can’t use my ship and crew to go earn some money ‘cause I can’t fuel up or supply the ship at all, and the crew wants bank trust receipts up front. Fuck. Fuck! I really needed to win that race.” He looked ready to cry.
Hex was intrigued. He wasn’t cutting very fine a figure as a captain, but she could respect the hustle. Plus, the whole thing was lining up to work out just the way she needed it, and that was a rare thing indeed. “Hey,” she said, waiting until he met her eyes. “Sometimes these things have a way of working out. I just may be the answer to your problems. Although, in true Galloglas fashion I’d be answering your problems with more problems.” Breen was looking confused. “Breen, my lad, you’ll never guess what Jackal and me were doing at the EQ Arcadium… care to guess? No? That’s no fun, okay fine, well, as a matter of fact, we were there trying to hire a ship. And we can pay up front.” She half turned her head without letting her eyes leave Breen’s. “What do you think, Jacks?”
“What do I think?” said Jackal, staring over her shoulder toward the front door “What I think is those two assholes from the alley went and found some friends from higher up the food chain, that’s what I think”
Hex very carefully did not turn and look the direction Jackal was facing. “Detail” she ordered.
“Five PETA troopers plus the two men who fled the alley - one of the troopers is an officer, two of them are in full combat gear,” Jackal stopped facing that direction and calmly looked at Breen as if conversing with him. “All seven are grouped loosely just inside the entrance; they have not seen us.” Breen started to look toward the door, but Jackal tapped the table to get his attention and shook his head.
Hex nodded. “Jackal, you got the stuff for a pop-and-run?”
Jackal smiled. “Yes, Captain.” He began taking a series of small items out of his belt pouches.
Helix looked at Breen, who was clearly distraught. “Okay fly-boy, you need a job, we need a ship, and there’s PETA brass looking for you, I like the signature of your ion-dust – you want the job? You’ve got” she took out her pistol and glanced at Jackal as he lit the fuses of several tiny somethings “about ten seconds to decide; follow us when we go and you’re hired” The burning wicks disappeared into the tiny packets and Jackal tossed both hands in a motion that could have been mistaken for a shrug, ending palms up and empty.
Breen said “Follow you where?” and then there were loud pops and bangs from all over the room. Everybody jumped up and started running for exits. Hex got off two shots unnoticed while the tiny explosives were sounding, and then she and Jackal merged with the sudden confusion, headed for the front door. Breen hustled to keep up with them, nervously looking for the PETA officers and the two loyalists but didn’t see them before he made it to the street, jogging along behind Jackal and Hex for a block until they began to walk calmly as if nothing had happened.
“Captain,” said Jackal, nodding at a store front with large windows.
“Perfect,” Hex agreed, and the three of them strolled over to look.
“Why,” asked Breen quietly, “um, why are we looking at fake plants for sale?”
Helix pointed at one of the display plants as if shopping and said “That’s not what we’re looking at”
Breen frowned. “Then what are we looking at?”
Jackal nodded happily and pointed to a different plant “We’re looking at the reflections in the window”
Breen looked. It was true, you could see the street behind them in the plastiglass over the plant display, like a ghostly mirror.
“Looks like we lost them,” said Hex, “but lets stay here a while longer to be sure.”
“Hey,” said Breen, “how come we didn’t go out the back?”
“Because,” said Jackal, “that’s where those troopers expected us; probably had men out back before they ever came in the front”
“But why didn’t the ones at front catch us? I didn’t even see them”
“Well,” explained Hex “we would have gotten past regardless, because what they would have been looking for was anybody in the crowd trying to get away from them. Troopers are kind of like cats that way. But this particular bunch, did you see them Jacks?”
Jackal chuckled “went to ground looking for cover faster than a comet to a black hole, and two of ‘em in full armor!” he shook his head in wonder. “PETA,” he said in a voice full of loathing, and spit. “They got the money, but you can’t buy bravery.”
Hex nodded, then looked at Breen. “So! Seems like we’ve hired ourselves a ship, ey?”
“Looks like it,” Breen agreed, warily. “I mean, I need the money, and I really can’t stay here anymore. Probably have my picture up in every colony on Luna by day’s end.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t expect it’ll get that bad, turns out we didn’t leave any witnesses,” said Hex.
Breen glanced sharply at her, and she made a finger gun at him and dropped her thumb twice. He remembered her taking two shots back in the bar. “The two men from the alley?” he asked.
She nodded “Their own fault, damn fools; should have stayed gone when I let them go the first time”
“What if you missed?” Breen wondered
Jackal laughed without much humor. “You don’t know the captain yet, so I’ll forgive you questioning her like that” he said.
Breen felt a small shiver. Just what kind of company had he fallen in with?
“So, Breen,” Captain Hex turned to face him “where’s this ship of yours?”
When they arrived at his home dock, Breen immediately started to clean up. There was a lot of clutter. “Sorry for the mess,” He said past a towering armload of clothing “You’re not supposed to live in your ship dock,” he dumped the heap onto an even larger mound of clothes “against regs and all that, but, y’know, why pay two rents?”
“Or even one rent,” said Jackal, holding up a red notice warning of impending eviction in large letters.
“Yeah, well,” said Breen snatching it out of his hands indignantly and glancing at Hex with embarrassment. “Just a little hiccup. I’ve still got 30 days to pay that” Behind his back, Jackal mouthed “seventeen” at Hex, who hid a smile.
“Listen, Breeny baby, we already know you’re broke. Right? You told us yourself. And me and Jackal, we’ve been broke before, plenty.”
“Due respect Captain, but you can fuck off with that, I’ve not been broke since I cached my first score back when you were -“ Jackal stopped suddenly. “Well, a long time ago, anyway,” he finished.
Briefly in the air between them was something complicated that Breen didn’t understand, then Hex waved a hand negligently and said to Breen “Maybe it would ease your mind to settle some business?”
So they sat down and talked numbers.
“That’s a decent amount of money” Breen said.
“Yep, that’s the retainer. I’ll pay you that same amount again anytime you want to quit, and until you do, I’ll cover all ship related costs: fuel, supplies, crew payment, docking fees, all that. Plus, you’ll get…” Hex slid a look over at Jackal “three percent of all profits incurred.
“What?! It’s my ship, I want fifty percent!” Oh, how he didn’t like the way the two of them laughed at him over that. “Listen, what the hell are we hauling, anyway?”
“It’s not that simple, Breen,” said Hex, “we’re going to be taking whatever scavenge we can get while we look for a specific thing, and the thing we’re looking for isn’t to haul and sell. All those expenses I mentioned? Fueling the ship and paying the crew and keeping us all fed? That’s coming out of whatever we can scrounge up once we head out. You take 50% and I won’t have enough to cover those costs.”
“Come on,” said Jackal “it’s a reasonable contract, pretty standard among the Galloglas. I make five percent myself.”
Breen looked at them. “He’s making 5%?” he asked Hex.
“Aye,” she said, “he’s a Galloglas”
“Well I don’t know what that means, but I want 5% too”
“You might not know what it means to be a Gallowglas,” she returned, “but you aren’t one either. 4%”
Breen stuck his chin out “He gets 5%, I want 5%” he insisted.
Jackal smiled a smile that showed off his fangs “You think you’ve got as much to offer the captain as I do?”
Breen stared at him. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment, “I’ve got a ship, what’ve you got?”
Jackal turned to Hex “I like him” he said, wickedly.
Hex laughed, “Alright, you’re a good man at the bargain table, Freighzer Breenlund, may we sit the same side of all such tables in the future; 5% it is” and she held out her hand.
Breen shook, feeling somehow as if he had talked his way into exactly what she’d always intended on giving him.
Ringer had killed a couple men, in Quorum, and that was the problem. Quorum was pretty rough and tumble; those men he shot were mean and tough, and he figured it made him a real bad hombre. He was tall and slim, and he fancied himself a gunfighter, wearing a pistol in a shoulder rig and another in a holster tucked into the back of his belt. Somewhere along the way he had joined up with Daily, a big beefy man who loved to hit things with his fists, and the two of them pretty much thought they could handle anything. Geo, a smallish young man, was impressed by them, and latched onto the pair.
Breen only had two other crew members: Cee W., a copilot he’d met on a night the young man was fed up with his previous employer, and Hanah, an old ship hand who kept to herself, knew how to do her job and everyone else’s too. Breen’s ship The Grabbyelle was already warming it’s engines for take off by the time Ringer, Daily, and Geo showed up, late as usual.
“They’re on, Cap’n” Hannah’s voice sounded in Breen’s ear.
“Lift it” Breen told Cee W.. Once they were on course, he turned over control to his copilot and called a meeting in the galley. Cee W. would listen in on the com.
Breen did a double take as he entered the galley and saw Hex. She was wearing a kind of business suit in crimson and black, with plenty of gold jewelry, somehow managing to look like both a CEO and a pirate -- the pirate effect highlighted by the nine inch blade strapped to her left thigh and a long wool coat draped over her shoulders like a cloak. Jackal was beside her in similar if less flashy garb. His large foxy ears were plainly visible through a brimmed hat with two holes for them, but looked at first glance like they might be part of it, like feathers stuck in the hatband. Wearing a vest and no jacket, he had a sort of short staff slung across his back. It was the least number of visible weapons Breen had seen on them yet.
When Ringer and Daily came in trailing Geo behind them, Hex and Jackal had their interest right away. Ringer leaned insolently against a counter eyeballing Jackal, and Daily walked over and lewdly ran his eyes up and down Hex.
“Well well, Captain, what have you brought us?” Ringer said, looking at Jackals ears, then glancing at Hex. “Pets? Are they house trained?” Jackal’s eyes narrowed a little, and one ear flicked. “What do think Daily, she got a tail hidden away behind her? Aww, what am I sayin’, you probably don’t care if she’s human or not”
“Shut up, Ringer” Daily said flatly, leaving his eyes on Hex.
“You’re out of line, Ringer” said Breen, with more confidence than he felt, “You too, Daily, back off! Don’t be rude to our clients” Daily lingered a second, then moved to sit at the table with Hannah and Geo.
“Oh clients!” said Ringer, bowing sarcastically “So sorry, I didn’t realize.” Suddenly ignoring Hex and Jackal, he dropped into a chair and faced Breen, who also sat. “What’s the job?”
Before he could answer, Hex said “I’ve hired this ship and its crew to retrieve something of mine. A box my uncle left me.”
“We need a whole ship for that?” said Geo skeptically “Must be a big-ass box”
“Not so big,” said Hex, as Jackal brought her a mug of black caff and sat at the table, “it’s not the size, it’s the location. I hope you all are ready for a rough time -- we’re going down to the Old World.”
Well, they didn’t like to hear that, and with good reason. The Lunar Colonies had been established close to 200 years ago, and the Earth had been considered a dead and dangerous planet for most of that time. Oh, there were things living on it, but it mostly wasn’t a fit place for people to live. Some did anyway, such were the ways of humans, to claw existence from the barest chance of survival. They lived amid the wreckage left by a combination of environmental disaster and global warfare, an apocalyptic wilderness considered uninhabitable by most of what was left of humanity. Many of those left on the planet were either genetically altered or cybernetically augmented, the progeny of laboratory creations during the last, war-torn decades of a fully populated Earth.
Called derogatory names like “grader” “shifter” “alter” and “mutie” (slurs short for upgraded, gene-shifted, altered, and mutant) people with cybernetic or genetic enhancements were not welcome in the lunar colonies. First generation Upgraded and Gene-shifted entities had been designed for war and terror, often mimicking horror story creatures such as vampires and zombies, or housing weaponry and programing for battle and assassination. Not just people, there were many human-created animals, some of which were quite intelligent. And there were micro-organisms and nanobots still swarming the planet, as well. When a last large-scale evacuation had finally been implemented, the Planetary Evacuation and Transfer Agency had screened for and denied entry to all Enhanced Beings, a policy meant to prevent “infecting” the supposed purity of the Lunar Colonies.
“I shoulda known a couple of damn shifters would try to get us down the well” said Daily, referring to the gravity well created by the planet. “Like hell I want to go there, full of vampires and borgs and nano-mites and who knows what.”
“That box of your uncle’s must have something worth a whole lot of money in it for you to hire a ship and land on that death rock,” mused Ringer. “What’s our share?”
Hex looked at him coldly “Whatever worth that box has is only valuable to me. There’s nothing in there for you. What you get is a working ship in operation, with its dock fees paid off and plenty of food and water, and your normal crew rates.”
Ringer scowled and looked over at Breen “That right, Captain? We working for zero percent of the haul? Doesn’t seem fair, that.”
“Can’t make money on a ship with empty tanks and unpaid dock fees, Ringer. I saw a chance and I took it. You’re getting paid your crew rate. Sometime in the next few hauls maybe we’ll find something that’ll earn you a nice bonus. Meanwhile, eat up, sleep tight, do your job, and draw your normal pay.”
“I don’t like it at all,” Ringer replied “and I know Daily and Geo don’t either. How ‘bout you, Hannah? You want to go down to Old Earth? Getting old to try that kind of environment, aren’t you? And I bet you don’t like to work a run and not get a percentage”
Hannah, never impressed by Ringer and his friends, shrugged “You ever shipped out on one of those big ol’ EA astroid miners? They charge you for room and board the whole time you’re on the ship, gotta pay it out of whatever you manage to mine while you’re out in The Black. If you don’t find enough ore to pay your bill, you don’t get to leave the ship when it docks, gotta head back out on the next run and hope your luck is better. Plenty of them miners never manage to get free, spend the rest of their lives working for that EA mining corp, never see a single kuai in their bank account. This here’s not my favorite deal, but it’s a deal, and a better one than I’ve had from some. Captain says we might get something extra later on, then I expect there’s a good chance of that, he ain’t lied to us yet.”
Hannah grinned nastily at the lanky troublemaker, “As for taking a trip down the well, you don’t worry me none with that talk, Ringer, what with you never even breathed the Old World air. You might be surprised to know I actually been down there before, an’ I ain’t so old I can’t go again. What’s more, I’m twice as likely to make it back as you are yourself, and that’s facts. That there planet eats up men think they’re tough like you, just plain eats ‘em right up; why, you oughta be scared more than you are, really.”
“Scared?” Ringer was outraged. “You keep talking, grannie,” Ringer bit out, “I’ll show you who’s tough”
“Alright, that’s enough,” said Breen, “In 52 hours we’ll be landing. It’s a dangerous world, but we’re just making a pick up, and taking off. No reason for everybody to get all wound up. Now you’ve heard the job, and that’s how it is. Everybody back to work. Hex, I’d like to speak to you on the bridge at your convenience” and with that, he walked out.
Daily stood up, looking at Hex, “How ‘bout it, lady, you want to come see me in my quarters when you’re done with the captain, I’ll show you a real man.”
“That’d be real nice” said Hex, “I been looking for a real man since I got here.”
“Oh yeah?” said Daily, grinning lustily.
“Yeah,” said Hex, wryly, running her eyes slowly up and down Daily “and I haven’t seen one yet” and turned her back and left.
“Fucking bitch!” Daily exclaimed and leapt up to follow, but suddenly Jackal was face to face with him, fangs bared, staff out with the tip resting against Daily’s chest, stopping him. Ringer put his hand to his gun, but Jackal said “Daily dies if you do, Ringer. Daily, you better call off your buddy if you want to live. You know what a bangstick is?”
Off to one side, Hannah chuckled. “You boys sure went knocking on the wrong door. Better go easy there, Ringer. Bangstick is a compression gun, Daily, in case you don’t know. Just a pipe with a round loaded in, usually shotgun shell -- you jab it against anything and it hits the pin, fires the round. You’re mighty close to having a big hole right through you, boy.”
“That’s exactly right,” said Jackal “and your pal Ringer there is making me mighty nervous, with his hand on his gun like that.”
“Let’s go, Ringer,” said Daily, slowly, “this is a bad start to a fight. We can pick a better time and finish it.”
“Anytime at all, cabronés,” said Jackal, as Ringer took his hand away from his holster and Daily backed away. “You try it anytime you want”.
Daily and Ringer left.
Hannah looked at Jackal. “You remind me of some folks. You ever ship with any of the Old Fleet?”
Jackal grinned at her and winked, touched the brim of his hat and left.
Hannah whistled soundlessly and looked across the table at Geo. “Kid, I never liked those two you hang out with, but you seem okay, so I’ll give you some good advice for free. If they go after these two, you just let them go and do it without you, I’d hate to see you killed. That there was a Galloglas, or I’m Queen of the Moon.”
Geo wrinkled his brow at her. “What in the diyu is a Galloglas?”
“You ever hear of the Old Fleet?” Geo shook his head at her. “The Council of Captains?” Geo shook his head again. “Well, you know how Sol Union got started?” Geo shrugged. “Por su madré, what all are they teaching people these days?” she said, “Well okay then, listen up, I guess this here is story time.”
“Back in the day, the Old Fleet was called the Station Supply Fleet, or the Service Fleet. A handful of giant ships created to service the seven space stations.
Life on these stations was secretive even back then, and from the beginning, their smaller populations tended to have a lot of brains and be in the top of their field. Then those folks raised a few generations of children who were certainly very, very smart, even if no one has ever proved they’ve been genetically enhanced to be extra intelligent, as rumor says.
Those stations, whole little worlds unto themselves, were busy developing goods and services in their areas of specialty -- those things they still produce, like robotics, medical research and narcotics, specialized food production, entertainment. But that wasn’t all they developed while floating around out in The Black. They also developed their own ways of life.
Sort of the same way, the Service Fleet was making their own cultures too. Most of those ships were crewed by several hundred men and women on back to back between-station journeys that could take three years or more each trip, and they naturally started their own way of living.
So anyway, it wasn’t long before the stations began to have differing opinions about what the law should be on-station. Different from each other, a bit, and very different than the governments that thought they controlled them.
More and more those opinions disagreed with the opinions of Earth and the Lunar colonies, and when one of those disagreements came to a head on Station Delta, the old Space Command found out very quickly that one of the things all the stations had in common was an opinion that attempts at military boarding and take-over of a station would not be tolerated.
The long and short of it was, the few surviving members of the Lunar Military incursion team wound up reporting that yes, the extremely intelligent people of Station Delta had, in fact, thought to engineer quite well against armed intrusion. Planetary authorities were further caught with their pants down when the seven stations of Sol System immediately unionized and seceded en mass, announcing themselves an alliance of self-governing bodies. Looking back, they had to have been planning it for a while, secretive messages going back and forth in the dark for years. Anyway, that’s how Sol Union was born.
The days-old Sol Union then gave the Supply Fleet that serviced them an offer, which was simply: join us.
Now those ships relied heavily on those stations to supply and refuel. There was no way to land them on the Moon or on Old Earth, they were designed to dock with the stations. And I imagine a lot of those ships didn’t care for being ordered around by government folks who didn’t know what life in the Fleet was like, most of who’d never even served on board any ship at all.
On each ship of the Fleet, decisions were made about the Sol Union offer. On some ships, there were votes. On other ships arguments were more pointed. Explosive, even. Two ships were lost entirely.
In the end, the Council of Captains was formed (some of whom were very new to their captaincy indeed). They defined each ship as an autonomous entity, and unanimously offered an alliance with the Sol System Union, simultaneously offering Earth and the Lunar Colonies a peace-treaty with trade agreements. Once the Sol Union signed that alliance with the Council of Captains, there wasn't really any choice for Terran or Lunar governments; the station labs produced a lot of the best goods and technology: medical equipment and vaccines, personal electronics, as well as widely enjoyed arts and entertainment- that last bit was particularly tricky for Space Command to get around. It was extremely difficult to keep the support of the citizenry when the 'enemy' was so damned popular.
But mostly it was that the ships of the Fleet were almost all of the serious space-craft humanity had made up til then. There was no space navy, nor any kind of second fleet to provide shipping. In effect, the rebel Union, while refusing to trade any of their products with Terra, had agreed to sell to the Fleet, who was offering to sell those things to the Earth and Moon. And buy goods from them to sell to Sol Union, of course. Neither Terra nor Luna could afford to refuse, and indeed, the Delta Solar Treaty worked well for all concerned. Still does.
Now, one of those ships, the captain was a woman named Reilly Galloglas. Nobody is sure how or where, but her crew started buying or building smaller ships. They spread out some. Some of them turned Pirate. Some of them started raiding Earth, scavenging and selling black market goods. Some of them even left off shipping out and worked security for a station here and there, or started a business. Mostly they’re one big family, even if distantly related. They’ll adopt long time crew members, and I’ve heard tell some people marry into the family. But they never take in or keep anybody who doesn’t live up to their standards, born in or not. And there are three things you have to know about them Galloglas folk.
First, they’re honest and honorable, even if half of ‘em are criminals and pirates. I mean they might steal all your money, but they won’t lie about it, they’ll keep any promise they make, and they’ll only kill someone who’s armed and facing them. Second, they’re a hard, dangerous, deadly folk. They don’t run from a fight, you can believe it; there’s just no back up to ‘em. And third, they are loyal as fuck. They mostly handle their own business, but gods help anyone who backshoots one, or gets one too outgunned and they have to call for reinforcements.
I only ever heard one time it happened. ‘Bout sixty years ago, the Theta Station Mining Co. had a difficulty with one, and blew her ship up while she was on station talking to them about it. They musta figured to strand her there, or something. I don’t know if they realized that little ship had her husband and kids on it, but she sure made sure they knew it by the end. Every Galloglas near got involved, and that right there is why there’s only six stations left in Sol Union. The rest of them stations looked at shrapnel left where the station had been, checked their options, and allowed as how Theta had fucked up got what they deserved. They sorta buried the whole story and moved on quick. They surely didn’t want to push the issue with that Galloglas crew. I reckon if it came to it, they’d all of them show up, and I don’t see how there could be less than 500 of them Galloglases, maybe two or three times that number, a bunch of ‘em with their own ships, and every one a demon in a fight.”
Son,” Hannah looked into Geo’s eyes, “you take an old lady’s advice, tell your friends to lay off - them two are a lot more trouble than Ringer and Daily can handle”
“I will Hannah, thanks” said Geo. And a couple hours later, he did.
But the problem was, Ringer had killed a couple men back in rough and tumble Quorum, and he figured it made him a real tough guy.