Curse of the Iris (21 page)

“Many stories claim we are the creation of someone else,” the voice said. “These are untrue. The government of Earth did not create us. Nor did Earth's corporations. No,
you
created us. You created us by taking our raw materials but doing nothing to help us develop our infrastructure. You created us by taxing us, but not representing our interests. You created us by defending your own interests, but ignoring our concerns.”

A flight of Jovian pinnaces streaked past the passenger liner recording the scene, then raced around High Port toward the intruders.

“Little late, fellas,” Carlo said.

Lazander continued. “If our tale sounds familiar, if our grievances echo in your ears, it is because once this was Jupiter's tale, and once these were Jupiter's grievances. Just as your settlers once demanded their freedom from Earth, so now our settlers seek our freedom from you. We are here to declare a new birth of freedom for the people of Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune—as well as the settlers, prospectors, and freed corporate serfs of the outer solar system.”

The pinnaces formed a defensive line between High Port and the bandits.

“Jupiter Defense Force frigates are scrambling,” Carina said.

Tycho heard a small, wet sound next to him and turned to see his sister calmly eating a plum while listening.

“We seek peace,” Lazander said. “Peace with the Jovian Union, and peace with Earth. We want free movement between the nations of the solar system, and free trade, and equal treatment under the law. Those cherished values were the foundation of your revolution, and they have inspired our quest for freedom. Deny us that freedom, and you will force us to fight for it. Grant it to us, and we shall form new bonds of friendship.”

“Good speech,” Yana said with her mouth full.

And then, moving as one, the frigates and cruisers pivoted smoothly and accelerated into deep space, leaving the warships of the Perimeter Patrol to confront a danger that had already passed.

The Hashoones were arguing, over the remnants of dinner, about how the Jovian Union should respond, when Parsons came and stood at the end of the table.

“It's the communicator for Master Carlo, Master Tycho, or Miss Yana,” he said. “It's a Father Amoss from Port Town. He's quite insistent that he speak with you.”

In the communications suite, the priest's face filled the wide viewscreen. He looked frightened.

“What is it, Father?” Tycho asked.

“Strange men,” Father Amoss said, leaning close to the microphone. “They were here a few hours ago. They found Loris.”

“What kind of men?” Carlo asked.

“Spacers,” Father Amoss said. “Hard men with—”

“That's enough,” Mavry said. “Nobody say anything else.”

Tycho turned to see their father had followed them. His face was grim.

“This isn't a conversation for an unsecured line,” Mavry said. “Father, stay where you are. We'll come to you.”

Father Amoss nodded, and a moment later the viewscreen went blank.

“Get the grav-sled ready,” Mavry said, then hesitated. “Load up the underwater equipment.”

“What?” Yana asked. “Where are we going?”

“I don't know that we're going anywhere,” Mavry said. “But events are moving fast, and I'd like to try to stay ahead of them.”

The doors to Saint Mary Star of the Spaceways were locked. When he opened them, Father Amoss glanced fearfully in each direction, then ushered them inside and barred the doors behind them.

“Is Loris safe, Father?” Tycho asked.

“The men looking for him—who were they?” asked Yana.

Father Amoss looked from Tycho to Yana.

“They had beards,” he said. “Saturnian accents. They walked like spacers and smelled like fuel.”

“Ice Wolves,” Mavry said.

Father Amoss nodded. “They came while Loris was out. I tried to find him before they did, but they got there first. Loris said he thought they were going to kill him. So I hid him away, in case they came back.”

“And did he tell them anything?” Yana asked.

“That's what concerns you, then,” Father Amoss said, voice hard.

“You said you hid Loris,” Tycho said. “Are you sure he's safe?”

“Yes,” Father Amoss said, and his face softened at the relief on Tycho's face. “There's not much else to tell. I don't know what Loris told them—he was too frightened to make much sense. But they didn't look like the kind of men you'd say no to.”

“Where is Loris now?” Tycho asked.

“Safe, like I said,” Father Amoss said, then raised his hand before Tycho could ask his next question. “I think it's better to leave it at that. The fewer people who know, the less harm there is to be done. You've done enough of that already.”

“We didn't tell anyone about Loris,” Yana objected.

“That's not what I'm talking about,” Father Amoss said, leading them to the door. “You know, one of the truest measures of a person is how they treat those over whom they have the advantage.”

“What does that mean?” Yana asked.

“I didn't think you'd understand,” Father Amoss said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my work.”

The doors shut behind them, and they picked their way down the chilly corridor.

“Father Amoss doesn't seem to approve of your methods,” Mavry said as they waited for the elevator that would take them back to the surface.

“Oh, not you too, Dad,” Carlo said with an exasperated sigh. “We're privateers, not a charity ward.”

“For once I agree with Carlo,” Yana said.

“And what do you think, Dad?” Tycho asked.

Mavry considered that for a moment as the elevator rose and they swallowed to keep their ears from popping.

“Our livelihood is a dishonest one,” he said. “We take things that aren't ours—by deception if we can, by violence if we can't.”

“Exactly,” Yana said—but Mavry held up his hand.

“So how do we make our peace with that?” he asked. “I think it's by being honest within that livelihood. We place a high value on being honest with our crewers, with our adversaries, and with each other.”

“We should be honest about being dishonest?” Yana asked.

“The life of a pirate is complex,” Mavry said with a smile.

“Should we have told Lord Sicyon the truth about his shares, then?” Carlo asked.

“He doesn't need the money,” Tycho said.

“And you think Loris does,” Carlo said. “But why does that make it different?”

“I don't know,” Tycho said. “I just know it does.”

“When we get topside, Carlo, prep the gig for immediate departure,” Mavry said. “We'll bring the equipment from the grav-sled.”

“Wait, where are we going?” Tycho asked.

“Old Josef's home on Europa, of course,” Mavry said. “It seems the Ice Wolves are on the trail of the
Iris
cache. I'd like to beat them to it.”

“Shouldn't we talk this over with Mom and Aunt Carina?” Tycho asked.

“No time,” Mavry said. “I'll explain it to them later.”

“The Ice Wolves must have found about the cache from Mox,” Tycho said. “And gotten his scanner.”

“Which means that money could go to finance their insurrection,” Carlo said grimly.

Or maybe it's not the money at all
, Tycho thought.
Maybe Mox knows about what else is in the cache—the thing that Earth wanted all those years ago and that the Securitat wants now.

“So what's our story, Dad?” Yana asked.

Mavry smiled.

“Why, we're engineers and apprentice engineers on a maintenance mission to whatever research station is nearest to the Sidon Flexus. Yana, you'll figure out what that is.”

“Engineers have fourteen-year-old apprentices?” Carlo asked.

“They might,” Mavry said, then shrugged. “Look, if you don't think it's worth a try, we can wait around at Darklands until we hear someone else has our treasure.”

“No way I'm letting that happen,” Yana said.

“That's the spirit,” Mavry said.

13
EUROPA AND IO

T
he journey to Europa took a little over an hour. As the moon grew in the gig's viewports from a dot of light to a white ball crisscrossed by dirty brown streaks, Mavry ran through a rapid-fire checklist.

The gig's transponders were broadcasting an affiliation with Callisto Space Engineering—a firm that did no real work but had existed for centuries as a cover story for such situations. The impeller and underwater suit were stowed in the rear of the gig, along with Johannes Hashoone's scanner. Mavry had loaded a mediapad with engineering diagrams and maps of Europa's oceans. All of the Hashoones had practiced answering likely questions about who they were and what they were doing.

“Incoming vessel,” Carlo warned from the copilot's seat. “Heading 93.8, and coming hot. Transponder profile indicates she's a Jovian Defense Force cruiser.”

Mavry whistled. “That's a lot of firepower for Europa. Show's about to start, kids.”

A moment later the gig's communicator crackled.

“Unknown ship, we have you on our scopes,” said a man's voice. “You are trespassing in the Europa Protectorate exclusion zone. Reduce speed and identify yourself.”

“We see you, cruiser—no need to run us down,” Mavry said, sounding peevish. “Our destination is Abelard Research Station. Didn't they tell you we were coming?”

“That's a negative,” the cruiser replied. “Reduce speed at once.”

“Look, son, we've got three inspections today. You ever try cleaning algae out of a shunt vent? Get on the comm to Callisto Space Engineering, and Harvey will give you the work order number and flight plan ID—like he was supposed to this morning. We'll file the paperwork when we return. That way we can both get on with our day.”

“Negative. Heave to immediately. That's an order.”

“Son, I don't have time for—”

“Our next communication will be a warning shot,” the cruiser said. “Be a shame if we missed.”

“We're shutting down the engines, cruiser,” Mavry said, flicking switches. “Can we make this quick? Like I said, we've got three inspections—”

“I heard you the first time. Turn to oh eight six and prepare for boarding. Maneuvering jets only.”

Mavry sighed and tapped the gig's retro rockets, inching the little ship into alignment with the cruiser. A moment later, a shadow fell over the gig as the two-hundred-meter warship passed overhead, blocking the sunlight reflected by Jupiter. Tycho looked up at the cruiser's cannons, which swiveled to keep the gig in their sights. If one of those gunners got nervous, the gig would be torn apart before any of them could so much as flinch.

“Beginning docking procedure,” the man on the cruiser said.

A moment later they felt the gig shudder and heard a scraping noise from above, followed by the whine of a docking tube engaging with the gig's topside airlock. Mavry shut down the gig's systems and switched on the cabin lighting.

“They're jumpy today,” he said, unbuckling his harness and getting to his feet. “Keep your hands where they can see them, and let me do the talking.”

There was a hiss and a flutter of wind as the air in the gig and the cruiser mixed. A Jovian Defense Force marine in combat gear clattered down the ladder one-handed, black carbine pointed at the Hashoones. He eyed them for a moment, then gestured to someone above him. Another marine entered the craft, followed by a JDF lieutenant.

“Boys, this is all an unfortunate misunderstanding—” Mavry began.

“Save it, pal,” the lieutenant said. “This is a restricted zone, and all facilities are in lockdown due to the current emergency. Which means there's no algae cleaning going on at Abelard Research Station or anywhere else on Europa.”

Mavry looked outraged.

“Wait till I get back to Callisto and get my hands on Harvey! No one ever tells me anything! When I think of how much of my time he's wasted—”

“Who's Harvey?” the lieutenant growled as another pair of boots appeared at the top of the ladderwell. “Never mind—we'll find out on Aeneas. Because that's the only place the four of you are going.”

“That won't be necessary, Lieutenant Csonka,” another voice said.

The newcomer was average sized and plain faced, in a military uniform that lacked insignia. Tycho looked at him, then tried to hide his shock.

It was DeWise, the Securitat agent from Ceres.

DeWise's gaze skittered over Tycho with no obvious sign of recognition, alighted briefly on his sister and brother, then settled on Mavry.

“Mavry Malone, I presume,” he said.

“I don't know who that is. I work for—”

“You work for yourself, like all privateers,” DeWise said. “And this would be Carlo, Yana, and Tycho Hashoone. Your exploits are quite well known, of course.”