The Rise of Earth (5 page)

Y
es, the privateer is real,” said Carina Hashoone, Diocletia's sister. “She's called the
Gracieux
, and her captain is Jean-Christophe Allamand. He's retired from Earth's navy. Spent most of his career chasing Martian blockade runners in the Floras.”

“So the commission is legitimate,” Mavry said.

Carina nodded. “Yes, and there are five others, all issued within the last six weeks. These new privateers have taken at least three Jovian vessels, all in the Cybele
asteroids, and have rescued two Earth and Martian vessels taken by our privateers before they could be condemned at admiralty court. These letters of marque have been issued by Earth's new war minister, Threece Suud.”

Tycho gaped at his aunt. Four years earlier, Tycho and Yana had discovered evidence linking Suud—then a secretary in Earth's diplomatic corps—to payments made to pirates preying on Jovian ships. That had led to the Hashoones capturing the
Hydra
and discovering labor camps in which Jovian citizens were working as near-slaves. Earth's government had been badly embarrassed, and Tycho had assumed Suud's career was over.

“Well, this changes things,” Mavry said. “Commissioning privateers is a lot more serious than saber rattling.”

“Let them stuffed-shirt Earthmen come across the Kirkwood Gap—we'll give 'em what-for,” Huff said, accepting a cup of tea from Parsons, Darklands's gray, dignified majordomo. Huff's forearm cannon sensed the old pirate's agitation and began to spin, seeking a target. Parsons glanced mildly at the weapon and glided away with one eyebrow raised.

“If they're in the Cybeles, they're already across the Gap, Grandfather,” Carlo pointed out.

“Don't think that isn't being discussed, Carlo,” Diocletia said. “On Ganymede they think—”

Carlo's reaction brought his mother up short—he crossed his arms over his chest, scowling, then turned
away to look at Carina, who was blowing on her cup of tea.

“Do
you
think it will come to war, Aunt Carina?” he asked.

Tycho glanced inquiringly at Yana, who raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. Diocletia drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

Carina ran her thumb around the rim of her teacup, frowning, and Tycho could guess what she was thinking. Carina knew a captain's authority—to say nothing of a mother's—extended well beyond her ship. After all, Carina had been Huff's choice to succeed him as captain, but vowed never to go into space again after learning her fiancé, Sims Gibraltar, had died from radiation poisoning suffered at 624 Hektor.

“I believe your captain was answering that,” Carina said finally.

“Apparently my opinion isn't valued on this particular subject,” Diocletia said in a low, dangerous voice, not looking at Carlo. “Go on, Carina.”

Carina sipped her tea. The only sounds were the chuff of Darklands's air exchangers and the plinks and clinks of silverware and plates from the kitchen.

“War would be a disaster for the Jovian Union,” she said finally. “Earth can build more ships in a month than we can in a year, and a trade blockade would starve us. And though things have been quieter than expected—recent unpleasant events notwithstanding—we still have
to contend with the Ice Wolves. Losing Titan to them would be nearly as bad as a war with Earth.”

“I hadn't heard about anything happening at Titan,” Mavry said.

“As far as we know nothing is,” Carina said. “But on Ganymede there's a lot of worry that it's the Ice Wolves' real target. Titan is the economic engine of the entire outer solar system. If we should lose it . . .”

Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

“Here's what I don't understand,” Yana said. “Earth knows we're caught between two enemies. So why not take advantage of that?”

“Because a war would be a disaster for Earth, too,” Carina said. “Any disruption in the delivery of raw materials from the outer solar system—particularly from Titan—would cost their corporations trillions of livres.”

“It all comes down to money, doesn't it?” Yana muttered disgustedly.

“Of course it does,” Carlo said. “For us and everybody else in the solar system. Don't be naïve, sis.”

“I'm not naïve—I just think there are more important things than money.”

“Such as?”

“How about freedom? And self-determination? And not wanting to be bullied?”

“People don't worry about that stuff unless they have enough livres to feed their families,” Carlo said with a sniff.

“That's enough, you two,” Diocletia growled before Yana could reply.

“His Majesty's forces would have trouble defeating us,” Mavry mused. “Their supply lines would be too long to defend, and Earth's task forces can't operate indefinitely without fuel and food. We'd prove a tougher opponent than our old friend Mr. Suud might think.”

“Yes, we would,” Carina said. “But that brings us back to Titan. Earth's fleets could get all the fuel they needed if they occupied it—which a lot of His Majesty's ministers would consider worth a war. If you ask me, that's what's kept the Ice Wolves quiet. Seizing Titan could ensure their independence—but it would also lead to Earth's intervention.”

For a moment there was no sound but the squealing of Huff's agitated blaster cannon.

“Fortunately, you can bet Earth's war ministers have considered this same dilemma,” Carina said. “If His Majesty wanted to retake the Jovian Union, he'd be signing a declaration of war, not letters of marque. And we have to remember, Earth has problems of its own—the Martian separatists blew up a military communications array on Deimos last month. Issuing letters of marque is a provocation, and a dangerous one. But it's still only a provocation.”

“So it won't be war,” Tycho said.

“I didn't say that. Nobody wants a war, but sometimes everybody gets one anyway. Dangerous events have a momentum of their own.”

Carina smiled and nodded at Parsons, who'd reappeared to place a platter of sandwiches on the revolving server in the center of the table. The sandwiches were real bread, with ribbons of in vitro beef peeking out.

Tycho spotted Yana eyeing a particularly robust-looking sandwich and hastily spun the server before she could take it. He grinned triumphantly at his sister, then looked over to see his father had nimbly intercepted the sandwich as it passed in front of him.

“Fortunately, there's some good to come out of all this trouble,” Carina said. “The Jovian Union is offering rich commissions on prizes seized in the Cybeles, and paying a premium for ships willing to serve as escorts.”

Huff's face twisted in disgust.

“Escort duty? Playin' shepherd for a bunch of tea wagons ain't pirate work—more like deep-space babysittin'. Talk to me when there's a bounty on this Jean-Chris What's-His-Name.”

“The way Captain Allamand is taking ships, that will be soon,” Carina said. “And whatever bounties there are, in the Cybeles you'd be well positioned to collect them.”

Huff grunted, scratching his bearded chin with the muzzle of his blaster cannon.

“There's something else, too,” Carina said. “The Jovian Defense Force hasn't been able to recruit enough privateers, so they've issued new letters of marque. I don't have the whole list of recipients, but I know the Widderich brothers each got one, as did Canaan Bickerstaff and Kanoji Ali.”

Mavry and Diocletia exchanged a surprised look.

“I've heard of the Widderiches, but not the others,” Tycho said. “Who are they?”

“Straight-up pirates, the whole lot of 'em,” Huff murmured, his face a half-living, half-metal grin.

“Pretty much,” Mavry said. “All of those captains were either denied letters of marque when piracy was outlawed or lost them because they couldn't stay on the right side of the law.”

“So this is what we've been reduced to,” Carlo said, his lip curling in disgust. “Letting known pirates fly our colors. It makes us look bad by association.”

Yana rolled her eyes at Tycho.

“Arrr, I'm in,” Huff said, bringing his metal fist down on the table. “Always liked 65 Cybele—'tis a lively little rock, an' this company will make it livelier.”

“And where do the loyalties of this lively little rock lie at the moment, Carina?” Diocletia asked.

“Publicly, the Cybeles are trying very hard to not be on anyone's side right now,” Carina said. “A declaration of allegiance would dam up the free flow of livres. And right now they're flowing very freely indeed in that part of the solar system.”

“Uh-oh, money. Does this mean Yana's going to make a speech?” Carlo asked.

“Yeah, a short one,” Yana said. “You're an—”

“That's enough,” Diocletia snapped. “It's decided, then. We go where the opportunities are. And right now that means the Cybeles.”

“But no escort duty, Dio,” Huff said. “Nothin' worse than a tea-wagon captain what thinks he's spotted a pirate—”

“I'm not fond of escort duty either, Dad. But if something's profitable, I'm not ruling it out. After all, I have no personal objection to livres.”

“Except when there are too many of them in other people's pockets and not enough in ours,” Mavry said.

“True,” Diocletia said. “I never have liked that.”

The lowermost level of Darklands was reserved for the family crypt.

No one was actually buried there—like most spacers, the Hashoones were horrified by the idea of spending eternity entombed in rock and dirt. The family memorials were digital—holograms of Hashoones who'd died decades or centuries earlier, their smiles preserved for descendants they'd never met.

Tycho heard the low buzz of his grandfather's voice as he descended the short flight of steps into the crypt—Huff always spent a few hours in the crypt after the
Comet
returned to Callisto, communing with his ancestors.

Tycho coughed politely to make sure he wouldn't surprise his grandfather. Huff's eye was a brilliant spark in the gloom, beneath the bluish glow of a towering hologram.

“Lemme guess, lad,” Huff said. “Carlo hoggin' the flight simulator again?”

“Like always. I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“No, lad,” Huff said softly, tapping keys on the holographic display. “Jes' renewin' old acquaintances. Ol' Johannes fought a number of dustups in the Cybeles, did yeh know that?”

Tycho looked with distaste at the image of Johannes Hashoone, his great-grandfather. Eighty-five years earlier, Johannes had been the ringleader of a crew of pirates who had stolen a fortune from the mail boat
Iris
—a fortune that had been lost until Tycho figured out that Johannes had hidden it from his fellow Jupiter pirates beneath the Hashoones' own homestead, in the lightless ocean beneath Callisto's crust. In solving that mystery, Tycho had also discovered that Johannes had ambushed and killed his friend Josef Unger, leaving his ship broken on the surface of a comet.

“Yeh don't think kindly 'bout ol' Johannes, do yeh, lad?” Huff asked.

Tycho hesitated, but then his ancestor's cocky grin made him angry.

“No. He was a cheat and murderer.”

Huff stared silently up at the image of his father. Tycho realized he was almost eye to eye with his grandfather. When had that happened?

“I'm sorry to say it, Grandfather, but it's true,” he said more quietly.

“He was both those things, 'tis true. I tried to convince meself yeh was wrong about what yeh found. But yeh weren't, lad.”

Suddenly Tycho felt ashamed. Huff had been a
midshipman on Johannes's quarterdeck. He'd learned the pirate's trade from him, and spoke of his father with barely concealed awe. Now Tycho had ruined the memories Huff held dear.

“I suppose it was a different time . . . ,” Tycho mumbled.

“No it weren't. I don't know why Father did what he did, and there ain't no way to ask. All I can think is he must 'ave had his reasons.”

Tycho turned to look at his grandfather and found Huff still staring up out of the shadows at the bright image of his father.

“I ain't sayin' they was good reasons—but killin' just for the pleasure of it? Arrrr, that weren't like Father. Somethin' made him do a thing he didn't want to. Been in that situation meself.”

Tycho paused. He imagined himself calmly asking his grandfather about the Battle of 624 Hektor. Had he and Thoadbone Mox really been the ones who distributed software to the other Jupiter pirates—software that had hidden a jamming program that left the Jovian craft helpless when Earth's warships attacked? If so, had Huff known what the program concealed? Did he really think Oshima Yakata was a traitor because her ship hadn't been affected? And if not, why had he spent more than a decade telling people that she was?