Star Kitten (48 page)

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Authors: Purple Hazel

Tags: #erotic, #space opera, #science fiction romance, #space pirates, #prison planet, #captive females, #galactic pirates

BOOK: Star Kitten
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Industrial crystals and
silver wire were used in anything and everything needing an
infinite electrical power supply due to its remote location or due
to its necessity for constant operation. Space craft and surface
planetary travel vehicles were especially big users. Power plants
providing electricity to colonies and cities did as well. And
gigantic perovskite or quartz crystals from New Australia were some
of the purest and best available. They were better than most
actually; but particularly in greater quantity which made it even
easier for clandestine Porko and Zorg traders to just stockpile
millions of tons of New Australian crystals and ore. They could
then make a killing in the commodities markets by first
short-selling energy crystal futures on the commodities exchanges
and hold that short position for a month or two… maybe more. Then,
they could SELL millions of tons of crystals in the wholesale
markets to drive down exchange market prices. A few months later,
when prices had plunged, they could “cover” their short sales by
buying back the contracts at a much lower price; creating a paper
profit
sometimes in the
millions
.

This enraged earth mining industry
executives. It aggravated commodity exchange officials too, and it
ruined many a savvy trader back on Earth. It was fraud basically;
insider trading for all intents and purposes. When investigations
led to arrests at major well-established brokerage firms… and
arrests led to plea deals… the paper trail always seemed to peter
out somewhere out in space; with the main culprits behind the
activity never seeming to be clearly defined. There just never was
a name or any revelation of the true origin of the product used in
the trading scheme.

What’s more, on Earth the powerful quartz
crystal energy industry had become a formidable political lobby
over the years. And the politicians whose campaigns they bankrolled
were all too keen to demand government action. It was “just another
form of piracy in effect,” they would assert. And this piracy was
hurting Earth’s economy and the livelihoods of Earth’s work
force.

So that now put three main political
lobbies—three major factions with decent financial clout or at
least strong public sentiment—in bed with each other. The military
wanted to take action because of the Star Pussy raid. The
securities and commodities exchanges wanted action taken to end the
instability caused by black market trading; and the energy industry
was now clamoring for some kind of military action to identify the
true source of black market crystals and ore being dumped onto the
market. If the IPA wasn’t going to do something about it, some
said—then many more said—then Earth needed to “take matters into
its own hands."

Yet, by way of comparison, on New Australia
times were quite good. Building had been going on for some time
now; and the frenetic mining and export of minerals, silver ore,
and crystals had led to very nice trade opportunities for New
Australia to acquire ample food and building materials. Mining and
exporting were indeed far more efficient than piracy. Importing
food and luxury goods was far easier than raiding for them too! But
best of all, stability within New Australia's many societies really
began to blossom into a sustainable culture. The erratic and
sometimes violent warrior practices of many tribes evolved into
much more civilized tradition and pageantry. Due process of the law
replaced brutality and vigilante justice. Borders once highly
contested years before during the Naustie Civil War, opened between
territories whose warriors once fought each other viciously. Tribes
and their noble families occasionally even started sharing tribal
traditions! The planet was evolving, slowly but surely, into a
pan-cultural society.

Five years after Solomon’s
and Felina’s wedding, babies were being born. Porkos were having
litters of piglets. Zorg hatchlings were crawling out of their
nests. Schpleefti populations grew… and Pumalar kittens were soon
heard mewing and purring in caverns and caves. Siring offspring was
changing a lot of males on New Australia. It gave them a sense of
responsibility and with it some measure of personal prestige. It
made them feel proud of the legacy they were leaving behind.
Marriage and family fulfilled them
spiritually
. It gave them something
to love… and something to defend with their lives.

However, back on Earth
during this same period, the gradual disillusionment with
Interplanetary Authority and its malaise in dealing with pirates,
smugglers, and clandestine markets had evolved into a real
bitterness and occasionally fanned into open hostility. Firebrand
conservatives even campaigned for earth’s secession from the
planetary union. But eventually a brand new development would offer
an opportunity for all these factions to try and push for drastic
change, because… it was soon going to be
Earth’s
turn to host the Galactic
Convention!

The Galactic Convention of course, occurred
every 4.3 Earth years (or one “Galactic Year”) so when it fell on a
March according to Earth calendars, a choice for its location had
to be determined that would be hospitable to other creatures
visiting from other planets. Several cities were considered,
eliminating locations which would be forbiddingly cold for species
like Zorgolongians and Slartigifijians who came from lush tropical
planets. Also, the location would have to be a city that was
capable of hosting such a massive event. Hotel space was an issue
for one thing, and also a newer looking facility would be desirable
which could host the assembly itself. Cities like New Orleans and
Miami were long gone now, submerged hundreds of feet below the sea.
Europe was still in the throes of winter. So Southern California
was finally chosen, and preparations were made for the visitors
from other planets; as well as choosing an Earth delegation that
would properly represent Earth’s economic interests.

This started a wave of political activity
that captivated the public and the ever-opportunistic media for
months beforehand! And perhaps the knowledge of this event coming
up served to fuel the campaigning and protests going on (especially
during the weeks leading up to the convention). Delegates from
other planets arrived at Earth space ports almost besieged by
reporters pestering them for comments or opinions regarding the
throngs of protesters outside. What’s more… families and workers
displaced by the economic turmoil caused by the collapse of Earth’s
mining industry actually traveled from all over the planet to
southern California and actually “camped” in tent cities outside
the convention site located in what was now called… “New Los
Angeles”.

A devastating earthquake had leveled much of
the original city of Los Angeles several decades earlier, but even
in the aftermath of the debacle, the city center could not safely
be rebuilt. Massive fires engulfed the city and nearby hillsides
for weeks after the main series of tremors ended. Then within a
year, tidal waves wiped out much of what the Earthquake did not
level initially, turning the Los Angeles Valley into an
uninhabitable wasteland with toxic air and LA’s famous hazy fog
trapping those fumes in the region for several years
thereafter.

The survivors at first moved away to safer
areas; but many vowed to return and rebuild. Eventually the city
fathers decided to just move the city inland and start over. Towns
and outlying areas to the east simply combined into what the locals
then started calling “New Los Angeles” and the name gradually
stuck. New Los Angeles not only returned to prominence, it quickly
became a trading and economic center once again, the equal of most
other mega-cities on the planet.

Facing nearly desert-like conditions, the
tent city families braved the hot, dry southern California inland
climate and set up their camp. It soon became a mecca for displaced
out of work families to travel to from all over the world. Of
course conservative political action groups gladly bankrolled their
journeys by generously funding “charities” (most of which were set
up by churches at first) to support the cause. The tent city sprang
up and swelled in population outside the convention center for
weeks, prior to the opening of the convention. So by the time
foreign delegations arrived, thousands and thousands of these
bitterly angry men and women were rolling out of their thermal
sleeping bags and tents each morning to stage protests, sing
protest songs, and frankly just join right in with the burgeoning
throng. Each day they gobbled up the free food “provided by
supportive volunteer groups”, then followed the crowds to the daily
rallies or demonstrations. Bands played. Speakers representing
various causes stirred them up into a frenzy in the desert heat. It
was quite a scene… and oh yes, the media had a field day. Reporters
and camera crews were literally everywhere every day filming and
capturing emotional sound bites for the 24 hour news network
machine.

The press even coined a phrase from one of
their many chants, which evolved into a nickname for the protest
movement itself: “Dignity for Diggers!” was what they’d often
chant….

“All we’re asking for is dignity!” screamed
the man with the bullhorn. “We just want to work and support our
families!” cried the haggard but quite well-fed mother of three to
the reporter. “A dignified job with a dignified income!” another
protester screamed. That’s what a lot of them would say, too. If
they couldn’t work, they’d be reduced to the social stigma of
living on government assistance; and essentially “live below the
poverty line” (whatever that really meant). That was humiliating
for humans, apparently. So here they all were, tens of thousands of
them at one point. They were former miners, food service personnel,
repairmen, construction workers, or machinists who’d rode that
amazing five year wave of booming opportunity. They’d married or
started families. They’d started new lives too!

They had gone from poorly paid retail clerks
or day laborers to digging up mineral ore and energy crystals on
earth space colonies. They had gone from living in government
housing, cheap bug infested apartments, or modular home parks… to
fancy clean new housing on exotic planets—or the moons of
Earth-controlled colonies.

Many could just go out and work six months
and have enough money to pay off past due hover car loans or credit
accounts. Most all of them could work ten months out of the year
and then go home to earth with 60 days paid vacation and full
benefits year round. There were even stories of families who’d been
in homes going into foreclosure… then Dad or Mom got some sort of
mining, service, or construction job and in less than five years
they’d made enough to pay off their defaulted mortgage or pay cash
for a new family hover car.

But now these “diggers” were displaced, laid
off, and right back on government assistance, where many had
started. Sure, they were proud. No denying that. “We don’t want
nobody’s pity,” as one incredibly hairy man with a bushy
reddish-brown beard put it. Fate had dealt them all a bad hand of
cards; but reality was they’d tasted of the good life and now they
desperately wanted it back (felt they deserved it somehow). At
their demonstrations they yelled and screamed “DIGGERS!” so often,
the press couldn’t help but just grab hold of the term and finally
reporters started calling them that. “Mine workers” was too general
of a title. Digger was what they were. Digger was what they did.
Digger was also what they identified themselves as once being.
Thus, the press began calling it the “Digger Movement.”

Of course, other species
in the galaxy were often quite amused and even downright confused
with Earthers and their strange arrogance—even within their lower
peasant classes. Their pride was so eccentric and bizarre. After
all, to Pumalars, Porkonjii, Schpleeftii, Slartigifijians, and
Zorgolongians… the peasant classes were in that reduced state of
existence for a reason, just like noblemen and the wealthy merchant
class clearly deserved to live the way they did in comfort and
opulence. No one
deserved
to have more than they'd earned, achieved
personally, or inherited. But Earther peasants apparently saw
things differently. They seemed to think they
deserved
to have their jobs back;
and that “
someone
” should do something about it. What’s more they were quite
adamant about getting on camera to tell everyone all about
it!

But that’s just what the firebrand
conservatives and hawkish military industrial complex needed them
to do. The media jumped right on that bandwagon too; milking it for
every possible ratings advantage. “The people demand answers… the
planet demands action!” screamed the protester wearing a hard hat
and armed with a megaphone. The cameras recorded it all; and the
news stations splashed video screens all over the galaxy with
images of chanting, wailing, singing, and crying humans thrusting
their fists into the air. It was great entertainment!

To be fair… who was really
responsible for returning them all to their lowly status as
recipients of public assistance and family food credits? Why, the
Earth mining companies of course! It was the mining companies that
hired them and then later laid them off when business slowed down.
But the even easier culprit to blame was the government: The
Interplanetary Authority… and of course that evil black market so
shrouded in mystery.
Blame
them
! And the securities market, which no
one could really understand anyway—all those corrupt traders taking
advantage of wild swings in commodities prices.
Blame them too
! Best of all, there
was this prevailing belief that Rijel 12 was actually the source of
all the cheap energy crystals.
Blame the
pirates then
! All these organizations or
places were easier to blame than their former employers who’d
simply shut down unprofitable businesses and given them a pink
slip.

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