Starship: Free Mars

Part 1: Pirates from Mars

Free Mars

William L. Culbertson

Part 1: Pirates from Mars

The Martian raider was stark black as it eased up the Luna-bound shuttle. Tate Richardson casually watched it out the port unsure whether he should be calm or terrified. The crew of Space Service officers aboard the shuttle appeared to be somewhere in between. Maybe quietly concerned? There was not much the crew could do, lunar shuttles were unarmed, and Tate and the rest of the passengers had been ordered to remain in their seats. Meanwhile, they all watched while the raider approached with its docking collar extended. The ship from the Martian colonies had appeared suddenly an hour ago, and the raiders had ordered the shuttle not to maneuver. A moment later, they had shot away the shuttle’s antenna. Not only did that clearly demonstrate their imminent threat, it also left the shuttle unable to communicate.

Tate scratched his nose and turned away from the viewing port. Well, his trip up to the mathematics symposium on Luna had turned out to more of an adventure than he had anticipated. He poked his seat mate. “What do you think, Mart? This what we signed up for?”

Her face pale and pinched with fear, Martha Vinson looked at him and scowled. “So where is the Space Service? What are we paying taxes for if they let the damned Martians show up in our backyard?”

His colleague was not evidently in the mood for levity, so Tate decided to turn to a professional topic. “I see Hu Wong Su is scheduled to talk about Pencian Operators. You know Vassa who works with him. Do you have any idea what he might be doing?”

“What?” she said distractedly. Then she snorted and turned away. “I can’t think about that now. We may not be alive an hour, so who cares about the symposium?” She started to tear up. “All I can think about is my baby. I may not ever see her again. And Jon….” Sobbing quietly, she put her head down.

Awkwardly, Tate reached over and tried to give her a reassuring hug. She had shown him baby pictures at the start of the trip, and he should have realized she would be upset. Thoughtless and uncaring. That was what Shael had called him when she divorced him four years ago. Just because he did not have anyone back on Earth who cared one way or the other whether he came back from this trip, others did.

Uncomfortable after trying to reassure Mart, Tate turned back to his port to check on the progress of the raider’s ship. It was not in view, and he leaned closer to see if he could see it. A minute or so later its position was obvious when the magnetic clank of the docking locks echoed through the shuttle. After a few more scrapes and thumps, Tate’s ears popped. They must have unsealed the hatch between the ships. He relaxed and closed his eyes. The safety harness held his body gently against the seat, but he let his arms drift upwards weightlessly. Calm or terrified? Since he could do nothing, he would do nothing—calmly.

Tate did not sleep. There was too much conversation among the other passengers, but he pretended to be oblivious. He thought about the points he was going to make in his presentation. He thought about Pencian Operators. He tried to visualize the Lagrangian formulation in 4-space. None of it held his attention.

When he heard the stern tones of the Crew’s Mate Braun, he finally opened his eyes to see what was happening. Braun was heavy for someone in the Space Services, and he liked to throw that weight around. Since they had left Earth a day ago, the man had aggressively enforced every petty rule the passengers had to follow. He had been particularly obnoxious towards the female passengers. Tate had seen him grope Martha’s breast. She had not said anything at the time, but Tate knew the assault had bothered her. Even before the arrival of the Martian ship, Tate had decided next time he would find the extra money for a high-velocity Moon-Commuter shuttle.