War in space had not turned out at all like anyone expected.
Part of that, most likely, was due to the long peace that had come before. When the colony ships had entered the system, they had been determined to fill these planets under the leadership of one government. One Federation, democratic, giving freedom and representation to all. And, for a few centuries, it had lasted. Mankind had prospered, spreading to fill habitats as quickly as they could be developed. However, there is a limit to how many people one system can govern. A limit that exists on all levels. It simply is not possible for one government to rule even one entire planet, over a certain population, let alone a solar system. Cracks began to show. Protests sprang up, here and there, but there wasn't much concern. Nobody wanted war. It would all work out. Democracy would save the day.
When the revolt came, it came everywhere. Planets didn't declare independence from the Federation: continents and cities rebelled, first from local control, then all external authority. Fighting broke out on the surface of a score of planets and moons. As the Federation tried to regain control, various Rebel factions united in opposition. For the first time, warships traveled the solar system, and planets surround themselves with defensive and offensive weapons.
It was here that the first prediction of interstellar war was shattered. Naturally, it had been assumed, the key to defense was the control of orbital space around a planet. No fleet would be able to force a landing against a well defended world, and nobody on the surface would be able to launch unless they controlled the skies above them. Orbital control was the key.
Then came the disaster at Cecilia.
The Federation had launched a major offensive on the main Rebel controlled island continent, managing to get a large beachhead. A relief fleet had been launched from one of its sister moons and, detecting this, the Cecilia Federation had put every weapon they could into orbit. They would hold the skies, and wear the planet side Rebels down.
Still holding three spaceports, the Rebels launched anything they could to disable those satellites. Laser weapons, hunks of rock with ion drives, pebbles… With every one they disabled, the Federation tried to launch a replacement, resulting in even more to be sent up by the Rebels. For a week both sides fought for control of local space, even as the ground war stalemated.
When the Rebel fleet reached Cecilia, it found no orbital weapons to drive them away.
What it did find was the moon surround by a half kilometer thick debris field of impossible to track stone and metal scraps no captain would even think of trying to travel through.
Cecilia was cut off from all physical contact with the rest of the system, and the shockwaves were felt throughout humanity. War was one thing, but this… there could be no winners if this ever happened again. Orbital defenses were mostly abandoned on contested worlds. The war would be confined to land, air, sea, and space. In practical terms, this meant that if some patch of planet or moon was either on your side or neutral, a good ship could most likely force a landing. Once there, however…
****
The large bulk of the ship slowly dropped through the down-pouring rain. It's mass seemed to hover for a moment over the landing cradle, whose large hydraulics positioned the ground supports to roughly match the ship's size and shape. With a final lurch downwards, the former Rebel cruiser settled into place on the moon Xanth.
Twenty minutes later, the bulkhead door one fourth of the way up the ship's hull opened. Five forms in green rain gear stepped out onto the metal gratings. The shortest one looked up at the sky, seemed to give a resigned sigh at the cruelties of nature, then led the way down the gangway towards the apron and the approaching spaceport officials.
Don was nervous. What they were about to do would, perhaps more than stealing the ship itself, chart their future. They could easily die here like a bitch; not only were they horribly outgunned by the local ground security, but they had been directed to land at a cradle near the very center which allowed almost no chance at defensive action. What was worse, they now had to… deal with adults in nonlethal ways, projecting an aura of strength. If only they could just shoot them…
The officials were waiting at the base of the ramp. Three middle aged men in red uniforms, what Don assumed to be the local design, stood with computer pads under a red tarp. Four armed guards had carried the poles as they marched out to the ship, and with the supports now secured in conveniently located holes, the guards stood on either side of the officials, hands on their weapons. The five kids walked under the shelter. After a moment's pause to assess the situation, Don removed his hood. The officials looked shocked at his apparent age.
"Welcome to Xanth," the middle one said, giving the group a careful look. "Who's your captain?"
Don stepped forward, the adults passing quick glances among themselves. Their spokesman raised an eyebrow at him.
"This is your ship?" Don nodded. "Hmm…." The man made some entries into his pad, then looked up again. "Ship name?"
They had forgotten to name the ship.
Don chuckled. He contemplated looking back at the others to get their input, but he could already sense their grins and figured it would give off a sense of weakness. Looking at the officer he pulled a name out of the air.
"It's the Liberty."
"Registration?"
"No."
The man once again sized up Don and his companions. He looked up at the large bulk of the ship, seeming to be calculating.
"Size of your crew?"
There it was. They weren't under the protection of anyone. If their ship just happened to change hands once again… who would protest? Don lowered two fingers from each hand, and silently both Lessa and Sean stepped forward next to him. Sean threw back his hood, pulling open the front of his rain gear. His Guard uniform came into view. One of the security guards took an involuntary step backwards. Another half started to lift his gun, a single glance from Sean causing his hand to quickly drop away. A moment later Lessa copied Sean, removing her hood and drawing back her poncho to reveal a battered uniform with a red and black braided cord on her left shoulder.
The officer looked at it, Don easily reading his thoughts as comprehension slowly dawned. Oh, god... the Federation gave those out for... he looked at the face of this young girl. That hair color, her age... his eyes widened. This was HER! She seemed to sense his train of thought, eyes narrowing. The man quickly looked away, finding his eyes once again on the small male teen in front. The Don smiled, a smile that did nothing to reassure.
"Our crew is large enough for our needs. We just want to stay for a few days most likely, unmolested..." Don's hands made small gestures indicating Lessa and Sean "...and do some business. There will be no problems, I assume?"
****
Not long after, Don, Lessa, Sean and Shelly made their way out the front gate and stood in the early morning rain looking at the city. Seneca was small, mostly neutral, and probably home to a few hundred thousand. Sitting in the middle of a mostly forested continent, they made most of their income from either the wood trade, or the rather more dangerous trade between Rebel and Federation communities. Don figured they'd be safe here.
For awhile.
After dealing with the spaceport red tape, he had sent Irene back to the ship with orders for Kine. They would start sending groups of kids out into the city on leave in an hour, large groups not just for protection but so the adults wouldn't know exactly how understaffed the ship actually was. Those that wanted to make a life here were, naturally, free to. From what Don had seen so far, now that they had access to the planet's net, there were probably worse places but this was no paradise.
Then again, what place was.
The city was just waking, and as they walked down the street into the commercial areas it took awhile to find an open place to stop and eat. Shelly didn't seem to mind- she had thrown her hood back, enjoying the rain on her face after almost two weeks in metal rooms. She had never thought she'd miss nature this much, but she had never been without it before. Lessa, hood very much covering her head, looked at her friend.
"Want me to keep the sprinkler system over your bed on all night while you sleep?" Shelly stuck her tongue out, then laughing shook her head so her long hair threw water in all directions. Given the downpour, nobody noticed.
A cafe serving breakfast was finally noticed at what seemed to be a main intersection, stairs leading down into the restaurant almost hidden between two large clothing stores. A sign next to the front door had a picture of a handgun surrounded by a green circle. The teens looked at each other. The idea of there even being restrictions on weapons was a new concept, and they'd have to pay close attention to where they went. Local police getting on their case was not part of the plan. They entered, finding themselves in a small wood paneled room with a long bar, tables and booths. All wood, and now that he thought about it Don realized most of the buildings were made with the local hardwood. Must be nice for a place to be that self sufficient. It also crossed his mind that it might also be why war had not come here. Any conflict would destroy the very thing they would be fighting for, so it was much easier to leave the continent independent and just trade for the stuff.
They removed their rain garb, hanging them from handy hooks just outside their booth, and sat down. Don sat on the inside with Shelly across from him, with Lessa and Sean on the outside ready to take on danger. Don noted that Lessa was next to him and not her friend, but wasn't sure if that was so that Sean wouldn't be near him. A waitress came over, taking their order. Once she walked away, Shelly looked at Don.
"So... we're here. Now what."
Don pulled out a small handset, and brought up a page of information.
"Well, we have a couple goals. First, find out who wants to leave." He glanced over at Sean, who just silently returned his look. Well, that was awkward. Don gave a slight smile and turned back to Shelly. "Second, we see if we can sell some of what we got in that raid. If we can turn those four rods of uranium into a few months worth of food, that's tons of problems solved. Third... we try and find ways to make enough cash to keep the ship and us going. Maybe we carry cargo, although all we'd be suited for is stuff that's small and illegal."
"Do we care about illegal?" Lessa asked. Don gave her a speculative look.
"Depends on the law. Mostly we should avoid danger, and anything that would bring the wrath of anyone important down on us. The whole point of this is to live to a nice happy old age, not have adventures and get ourselves killed." Sean leaned forward, hands together, elbows on the table. The waitress returned with their orders and he waited until she once again left them alone.
"How does that mid-battle raid fit into that theory?"
"We needed food and supplies, so had to take risks. If it had been a defended gold transport instead of an abandoned cargo ship, we'd have ignored it." They had in fact found some gold on board, electronic banking between warring planets being somewhat unstable these days, with much of it to be used to pay for their stay here. What spaceport parking didn't require had been divided among the crew to give them spending money while in the city.
Sean considered for a moment, then glanced around.
"What if we found people interested in having us go after transports?"
Shelly looked at the slightly older teen with an amused glint in her eye.
"Go pirate? You serious? That's keeping a low profile and staying safe?"
"You're the one who wants to raid sex slave camps." Shelly's face colored a bit. He went on. "If we're going to do that, going to work our way up to taking on at least one of these evil groups... why not make money doing it."
Don pushed his cup to the side, and leaned forward towards Sean. This... this was interesting. He motioned for the dark teen to continue.
"We look around, see what the various 'under the table' opportunities are, and see what fits our abilities and needs. We have a warship. We have experienced soldiers. Our services could be used... on our terms. We also keep our eyes open for leads about the camps. Those disks had a company address, but those are probably just distribution point, and anyways it was in a city we have no chance of getting near. We can sort of casually work towards that goal while getting stronger ourselves."
Don had to admit, he was impressed. He sat back, taking a sip of the sweet caffeinated drink, mulling over the idea. He looked over at Sean.
"I like it. So, you're staying?" Sean considered for a moment, then nodded, taking a swig from his own cup. "You want Kine's job?"
Sean actually laughed at this, the first any of the three had ever heard from the serious teen. Shaking his head, he looked Don in the eyes.
"No, no. Kine is a fine second in command... and he can be mine when the time comes."
Now it was Don's turn to laugh, a good, honest laugh. He half stood and stretched his hand over the table towards Sean, who, grinning, reached his own out to shake. Shelly and Lessa just looked on, both amused and bemused. When both boys sat back down, Don looked at them.
"We probably should also keep an eye out for kids who might want to join us. Runaways, deserters, etc. Not just anyone, mind you, but if they're willing and won't disrupt things too much..."
Shelly nodded.
"Yeah. We need more. There's a distinct lack of hunky males on our ship."
"You can say that again," replied a depressed sounding Sean.
****
Kine and Irene took in the view out the trolley windows, sun braking through the clouds over the strange cityscape. Across from them, talking merrily, sat the Trio. Well, Wendi and Sirenia did most of the talking. Amanda was distracted ,watching the hands of her brother and the skank. They weren't holding hands, and for some reason she couldn't fully understand she wanted to keep it that way.
Kine, on the other hand, was looking forward to lots of hand holding, if not more. He had not seen Irene much since the raid, the crew's sleep patterns varying to allow bridge and engine room to be manned at all times. That she had agreed to come with him on this excursion was, to him, a great step. That the Trio would be hounding him... not so great. The way they stuck to him, there were times he wondered if they thought they were his wives.
"Look!"
Wendi pointed out the window behind Kine, the older teens turning to look. Spread out before them was a large, forested park. Large trees, a lake, what even looked like... playground equipment! Parents and kids were scattered throughout. Kine, gazing at them, felt a longing he hadn't had in a long time. Irene's hand slipped into his. As the trolley slowed for the station, they just gazed at the normalcy of it all. The younger girls crowded behind the couple for a better look, Amanda putting her hands on her brother's shoulders and practically jumping up and down.
"Oh, please, can we go there?!? Please?!?"
Kine gave a dramatic sigh, as if this would kill him. The bouncing got worse.
"Oh, I guess..."
This got him three kisses on the cheek, as well as an amused look from Irene. As the trolley stopped, the three girls sprinted for the nearest door. The two older teens followed at a somewhat slower pace, Irene's hand still in his. Stepping off, a dirt path beckoned. The kids, after a brief pause to roll in the wet green grass, probably staining newly made skirts and blouses, ran to a swing set. The one boy using it, seeing the attacking hoard, fled. The sound of his sister's laughter, so long unheard, lit up Kine's face. Irene squeezed his hand, smiling.
"You're a good brother to her."
Kine shrugged.
"At times. We wouldn't be in this situation if I was as good as I should have been." He looked off into the distance, a formation of aircraft flying across the horizon. Their feet took them past the playground, onto a path around the lake. "She had the chance to get out, you know. But she refused to leave me. Joined the military so she could stay by my side."
They passed a young family having a picnic, a six year old boy and his five year old sister fighting over the last sandwich. The father, laughing, took it for himself. Kine shook his head.
"Now if that wasn't a metaphor for life, I don't know what is."
****
The trouble with being strangers in a new city is, naturally, you don't know the lay of the land. The trouble with relying on government controlled nets for local information is, naturally, they're not going to tell you about anything that might be at all embarrassing. For example: if a part of town isn't exactly the safest place in the world, if in fact the government and the police have lost control of it, they may not let word of that onto their nice information networks. Locals, naturally, just ignore anything government supported, but strangers will not have access to underground streams of information. They, in fact, may have to wander into the unsafe shit holes to gain access to such streams. Such situations are what make life interesting.
****
Don and Lessa were not holding hands.
He was kneeling on the ground, back to the wall, gun drawn. Lessa stood in the middle of the side street, a half dozen thugs arranged in a semicircle before her. Her poncho had been tossed off at the first sign of trouble, but while the sight of her two sidearms had given the unwanted guests pause, Lessa showed no signs of using them. The scum were just armed with various hunks of metal, or sharp knives. There was no point drawing more attention with gunshots.
She crouched, waiting.
She was fast.
Don blinked, almost missing the whole fight. As they came, she threw herself at the legs of two of them, drawing a long knife from a leg sheath. Coming to her feet, she left behind slashed tendons and howls of pain. One of their knives was now in her other hand, only to be thrown at the thug she considered the most dangerous. He fell, the hilt sticking out of his throat, as she charged the remaining three before they could get a grasp of what was going on. The last, having the seconds the deaths of the others bought her to somewhat think about survival, managed to get her club up to block Lessa's blow. Barely noticing, Lessa used her momentum to flow around the woman, knife sliding off the metal rod and slicing through arm, shoulder, and back. As the thug staggered, Lessa stepped into her, grabbed the top of her head, reached around with her knife, and slit her throat.
As the last body hit the ground, Lessa stood up straight. She was breathing hard, but not labored. Her eyes flickered to either end of the street. Nothing. Kneeling, she wiped her blade on the shirt of the woman, quickly searching the bodies. Don came up behind her, eyes taking in the buildings around them. Someone was on a balcony five stories up, watching.
"Time to go," he said, holstering his gun. She nodded. Standing, she handed him six wallets. He tossed her the discarded rain poncho in return. A minute later, they were back on a more traveled roadway.
"Do you think he sent them?" Lessa asked. She hadn't trusted the merchant. He had been too... reasonable, offering fair prices for their stolen goods. Don shook his head.
"We haven't either the goods or money on us yet. If he was going to do anything, it would be after the sale. No, we just looked like kids in the wrong place." He thought. "Just to be safe, though, I think it'll be best if we look around and see if we can get a better, or at least similar, offer."
She nodded.
"Sorry I let them surprise us. My guard wasn't... well, where it usually is."
"You recovered nicely, that's the important thing. You're not upset I stayed out of the way?"
Lessa gave him a speculative look.
"No. You know your limits, and knew I needed room to maneuver. I actually respect that." Don cocked an eyebrow at her, smiling.
"That's a good excuse. I'll use it the next time I'm cowering in fear."
She smiled back.
It was a good first date.