Martian Balance
Copyright© 2025 by rlfj
Chapter 3: Pirates
The textbook definition of piracy was robbery or violence by ship or boat-borne attackers upon another ship. On Earth, piracy had occurred for thousands of years. The first recorded instances were when the ‘Sea Peoples’, a generic group of Bronze Age tribes, attacked Aegean and Mediterranean ships in the 14th Century BC. Ever since, as long as people were shipping goods by ship, other people with ships were trying to take it away from them.
The ‘Golden Age of Piracy’ was roughly an eighty-year period from the mid-17th Century through the early-18th Century. It was highly romanticized at the time, with books and magazine articles glossing over the nasty parts and taking the side of the pirates fighting for freedom against tyrannical kings. Some of the glamor subsided in the 19th Century, but when movies were invented in the 20th Century, pirate movies became a staple.
Piracy tended to happen in areas where there were geographic features that made pirate attacks easy, such as straits and island archipelagos, where pirates could hide and then swoop in on a target before hiding again following an attack. Just as important, however, was a need for weak local governments that couldn’t protect their waters or provide basic services to the people committing the piracy. In the Caribbean there was a significant period when three different warring European nations - France, Spain, and England - had ports and colonies throughout the area. The same happened near the Horn of Africa, and throughout the Indonesian and Philippine Archipelagos, plagued with weak or fractured governments and large numbers of high value cargos travelling through.
Probably the most underreported aspect of piracy was that it required more than pirates and pirate ships, and target ships. A third requirement was a place to sell the cargos the pirates stole. They needed merchants to buy their stolen goods and corrupt local politicians to allow them free rein for a cut of the take. Even in the 23rd Century, piracy occurred in the Caribbean and Pacific archipelagos, especially in areas where WestHem and EastHem butted up against each other. Piracy was a business, and after almost four millennia, it was still around on Earth.
The one place that didn’t have pirates was outer space, despite the huge number of stories written about space pirates. Ever since the early 20th Century, when space travel was first considered possible, pirate stories were written, movies were made, and television shows were produced. By the 23rd Century they were very popular in both WestHem and EastHem. In WestHem the pirates were either Martians or rogue EastHem sailors or both; in East Hem it was Martians or WestHem naval vessels or both.
The biggest problem was that traveling on Earth’s seas was not the same as interplanetary travel. You couldn’t just change course, you couldn’t breathe, eat, or drink vacuum, and you couldn’t just sail into a convenient port. Nobody was going to go sailing around, hoping to see sails on the horizon. Orbital mechanics ruled, and there was an extremely limited number of ports.
What Executive Decisions Group was trying to do was introduce piracy to the Solar System. If they got lucky, maybe they could make some money!
Bridge
Ship 1 (ex-Eagle)
Thursday, January 15, 2235
Alex Rodriguez sat in the captain’s chair on the Bridge of Ship 1 looking over the navigation and sensor screens. He had a wry smile whenever he sat there, since it had never been an option when he was Lieutenant Rodriguez of the WestHem Navy. For a non-Caucasian, lieutenant was about the highest rank ever obtained, and before he was forcibly retired, his career had peaked as a navigator on a Rattler. His retirement had come about when funds earmarked for his captain’s pocket were ‘misappropriated’ and found their way into Rodriguez’ bank account; the captain was a scion of a wealthy WestHem family so his financial peccadillos couldn’t be brought up at Rodriguez’ trial. Instead, Rodriguez had been kicked out ‘for the good of the service’.
The rest of the crew was of the same general moral character. They totaled forty-eight, and included murderers, rapists, thieves, drunks, and drug addicts. All had served in the WestHem Navy at some point before being found unsuitable for the august character of that body. The chief engineer had been convicted of raping a series of low-level enlisted women; the assistant engineer had been convicted of raping an enlisted man. Several of the officers and enlisted had been released from the Butte Military Detention Facility in order to fill critical slots in the ship’s crew.
There had been a forty-ninth crew member, but he had been such an uncontrollable mad dog that Rodriguez had to shoot him in the crew mess, when he attacked a cook who had served him cold coffee. The cook was still recovering from a broken arm, and Rodriguez now wore a pistol constantly.
Alexander Santiago of Executive Decisions Group had sent Rodriguez and Ship 1 on a path towards Mars. Santiago was tied in with WestHem Intelligence and had what was considered a viable strategy for making money. They would intercept Martian freighters and transports travelling between Mars and Saturn, capture them, and then bring them back to Earth orbit for disposal.
The target for Ship 1 was MSS Fart Locker, a gigantic globular tanker that travelled back and forth between Saturn and Mars. She would be loaded with hydrogen at the Rhea gas mine near Whiting City, the huge center of the Saturn colony. Then she would head into the inner system, to dock at Triad City and disgorge her cargo. After a few days for her crew to commit a few sins planet-side, she would return empty to Saturn for more hydrogen.
One hundred million metric tons of hydrogen would make for a tasty payday when the captured Fart Locker showed up at Gonzo Three. Hydrogen was hydrogen and didn’t have a label on it, and the ship could easily be dismantled for the steel. All it took was one good capture and it would be a successful program.
“Skipper, I have a contact.”
Rodriguez looked over at his tactical officer, Johann Schmidt, a native of Michigan, Central North American Province, who had been caught collecting kiddie porn. “What is it?”
“Right now it’s just a fuzzy glimmer, but I am getting what looks like the signature of a tanker venting heat.” He clicked an icon and threw an image onto the main screen, which was duplicated on Rodriguez’ screen.
“Where we are expecting it?”
“Close. It’s off a touch, but not by much.”
Rodriguez said, “Okay, let’s close on it. Let’s time it so that we hit it at 0700 tomorrow. We can give the crew time to sleep and have some breakfast first.” With only half a crew, they needed to attack and capture the tanker when everybody was awake and alert. At night, they ran a skeleton crew.
“Roger that, Alex.”
Rodriguez grimaced at the informality. He had already learned that discipline was lacking on a pirate ship.
Bridge
EHSS Jackdaw
Thursday, January 15, 2235
“Skipper, I have a contact.”
Commander Heinrich Goering looked across the Bridge at his tactical officer, Lieutenant Reneé Doucerain, who punched the button to put her tac screen on the main screen. Goering looked at the screen, where a fuzzy blob was centered, with a red question mark next to it. “What is it and what the hell is it doing out here?” Jackdaw was a Raven-class stealth ship, EastHem’s latest design, and currently travelling from Jupiter to Earth. The flight path took them near Mars, but they weren’t going anywhere near the restricted orbital zone.
“Working on it, skipper.”
There was a degree of informality in the conversation, but no disrespect. The crew and officers had been together for over a year and had gelled into a nicely professional group. While no EastHem ship had been in combat since the Jupiter War, they were well trained and routinely practiced everything from a commerce raid to a full fleet action.
It took the better part of an hour before Doucerain could come up with an answer. “Sir, she’s an Owl!”
Goering stared at her. “An Owl?”
“That’s what took me so long. They’re running quiet, but not all that quiet. I had to work my way through the signature database. The only thing that matches is a WestHem Owl.”
“What the hell? Nobody runs Owls! Nobody even has them anymore!”
Doucerain shrugged and returned a wry smile. “I’m happy to show you the numbers, sir.”
Goering climbed from his chair and headed over to the tactical desk. “Don’t take this wrong, but I think you’d better show me.”
The tac officer climbed from her seat and moved to the side. “I’d have been more surprised if you didn’t want to check. I didn’t know that anybody still had Owls around.”
The captain replied, “Mars still has one but it’s at their Triad Naval Base Museum. We’d have heard if the Martians were doing something. Maybe it’s WestHem, but the latest from Intelligence is that they sent the last Owls to the breakers.”
“You got me, sir.” Doucerain showed him the various signature elements and went through her reasoning and the signature database.
Goering was convinced. “They’re still far away. When did you catch them?”
“Just after we did out last heat dump.” The screen flared as the Owl dumped its own excess heat, and ‘Owl’ popped onto the display in place of the question mark. “It’s definite, skipper. She’s a WestHem Owl, and she’s coming for us. Six hours, sir.”
“Fuck me!” muttered Goering. He went to his seat and hit a button. “General Quarters, General Quarters. This is not a drill.” He turned back to the Bridge crew who were watching him and said, “Well, you heard it. Get into your biosuits. I don’t know who is out there or why, but it’s our job to find out.” He went to the storage locker behind his chair, stripped naked, and changed into his biosuit, though he didn’t put on his helmet. Instead he grabbed a ration bar and began to munch on it.
Around him the rest of the Bridge crew changed into their biosuits. A few minutes later every compartment and department reported they were at General Quarters. It wasn’t as fast as the rulebook said, but he wasn’t worried. The captain nodded to himself and ordered, “Engineering, cut gravity.” A few seconds later they were weightless as the grav plates were shut down. One of the major changes in ship operation in the last century was that newer improved grav plates created a much less detectable gravimetric signature. Still, less detectable was different than not detectable, and the only way that would happen was if Engineering turned off the grav plates.
“Okay, Reneé, keep on them. We’ll go to combat quarters when they’re an hour out. Everybody, check your departments. I don’t know what they are up to but Jackdaw can handle it.”
Lieutenant Commander Gaston Dupree came onto the Bridge and took his seat at the side of the captain’s seat. “Sorry for the delay, but I was in the head.”
“Next time shit in your pants, Gaston. This is General Quarters.”
“Yes, sir, sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Goering nodded. Dupree was a good executive officer, and people did have to use the head on occasion. “We’ve got a WestHem Owl on an intercept track.”
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