Belters

Chapter 03:-1

Chapter 03:AD 2100 Inner Belt – APC11 Miyajima

The Miyajima’s Captain Riki asked, “Have they made any move to indicate they spotted us?” Despite the perceived gravity created by the ship’s 1G acceleration, the slender Asian woman sat strapped into her command chair.

Margaret Sweets towered behind the captain’s command chair, hands gripped behind her back in a modified parade rest. There was nothing to do but wait. At current acceleration, they were still at least an hour from reaching the vessel. The slowing to match the speed of the freighter the most aggravating time of the chase.

“Nothing, sir,” The navigator called back. “The rock’s orbit and the ship tethered to it remain unchanged.”

Margaret cracked her neck. She wanted to look out the front windscreen. Any window would do, but since there wasn’t a single sheet of glass built into the new model ship, she stood and watched the backs of the crew, longing to see outside.

Camera arrays mounted to the skin of the ship could call up any view needed, but they relayed little useful information. Even with magnification, the distances in space were normally too great for visual data to provide useful information. The monitors at each station were used to pull up all the data flowing into the ship’s sensors. The information held all the clues to what happened in the big black outside. Truth be told, modern spaceflight was boring, like standing in a moving office space. Waiting for hours, days, or weeks for something to happen.

Margaret cleared her throat before speaking, “Not to question your orders, Captain, but coming in unannounced, hot, and silent… the scallywags might think we’re pirates. They might decide to attack first.”

Captain Riki’s voice sounded much sweeter than the words that came from her should have. “Good, that is my hope, Sweets. Let them fear for their lives. The less chance they run, the easier the catch.”

Sweets pressed her concern. “But the more chance they will fight the boarding party… Trapped animals fight the hardest. If they think we are pirates, they might burrow into that rock like a Texas tick. With nothing to lose, they will fight…”

“And that is why the Bakshi-Corp pays H and B so well for your security services. I hope I don’t need to remind you, your security detachment answers to me while onboard.” The captain took a sip from her spill-proof coffee cup. It had all the looks of a child’s sippy cup made of stainless steel.

“No, ma’am. Only I would be derelict in my duties if I didn’t point out the increased cost the armed contact clause incurs to the contract. You run your ship as you see fit. I will prep my team for boarding.”

“You do that.” Riki dismissed Sweets with a wave of her hand.

Margaret wasn’t surprised by the captain’s cavalier attitude and video game mentality. All the fast attack craft she served had a zealot sitting in the captain’s chair. Something about being armed while your quarry wasn’t led to some strange ideas of justice.

Despite the perceived gravity from acceleration, Margaret took her time turning to leave, each step a precise, deliberate action. Storming off the bridge only to fall flat on her face would never have the desired effect. If anything, the squad commander was as cautious with her movements as her combat duties. Rash actions became all the more dangerous in the environment she worked in.

“And, Sweets, you’re authorized to use deadly force.” Riki’s voice nearly sang the words with excitement when she spoke.

Margaret ignored the captain. She doubted anyone on that piece of s**t belter ship would put up a fight for the crumbs of a cargo they might carry. Most people valued their lives over any cash that might be gained. Cold, hard cash never looked so impressive when compared to the realities of a cold grave. Once the scallywag crew learned only the captain would be charged, they would quickly surrender. In Sweets’s experience, scoundrels, full of bluster, were normally a cowardly bunch.

The Miyajima wasn’t near large enough to contain Riki’s ego, but it was several orders of magnitude stronger than any of the belter ships they might encounter out in the belt. The patrol craft had a simple order of engagement. Locate and halt illegal mining of Bakshi-Corp’s claimed assets. It was left up to Riki to use the tactics she thought best to combat the thieves.

Sweets was pretty sure the captain of the Miyajima would blast any transgressors out of the sky… if she thought she would not be charged. With the abundance of people on Earth, life became all the cheaper to some. Sweets knew most of the criminals they ran into were only trying to scrape out a living. Even though she grew up on Earth, she understood the people they policed.

It was the belters’ contention no one could own a rock. It was all a matter of first come first serve. The problem was the corporations had better lobbyists in Earth’s governments and lawyers in the courts. The far roaming belters never had a chance. Their voices were too small to matter.

Sweets never understood the hard-on so many of the corps had for the independent mining operations. In the grand scheme of things, they would never be able to compete with the huge mining combines and the largest rocks they harvested.

Finally, it dawned on her, it wasn’t so much about the small amount of profit the free miners took from the corporations. It was about control, market share, the perceived scarcity of resources, and the miners’ skills as a factor of production. Until the asteroids could be mined without human intervention, the corps couldn’t have the best miners striking out on their own. If that happened, there would be no one to fill their suits. Automated robots had already replaced so many humans in the workforce. It was only a matter of time before they replaced all the miners.

Sweets shook her head, “Including the ships that patrol the skies and the mercs that guard the ships.”

The central corridor was deserted. The twenty-meter walk to the cross tube should have been a quick one, but Margaret took her time. The solitude on the cramped ship was a welcome relief. Space was never a place for the claustrophobic or antisocial.

They were still too far out to pick out the details of the ship attached to the asteroid, but Sweets assumed, based on the size of the rock, the craft latched to it was a smaller, older-classed mining ship. Anything but the smallest ship would have worked a larger rock. Everyone knew the bigger the rock, the bigger the haul.

The airlock to the dropship was open. Her unit of eight sat on the benches, waiting for the call. They all looked up at the squad leader when she entered the space. Although they voiced no concerns, it was easy for Sweets to see the question in their eyes.

“Go ahead and load up nonlethal loads. Should be an easy enough claim jumper. I don’t expect any trouble. Be ready to launch in forty-five.” Margaret moved to her PAE (powered armored environmental) suit. Even with a nonlethal load-out, her unit was not without protection, should the need arise.

The armored space suits they wore were the top of the line Holly and Burnt produced. Any company that recruited and hired out mercenaries needed to provide the best equipment, or their applicants would dry up. Her crew was safe up to small ship-mounted weapons.

Most civilian weapons wouldn’t scratch the finish on Margaret’s environmental suit, and the installed coil gun on her arm would stop a tank if loaded with the correct ammunition.

Outfitted with lethal loads, her squad of eight, in a pinch, could take on all but the largest ships. In this single encounter, Captain Riki proved she knew nothing of the capabilities of the full H and B squad she carried.

The Miyajima was armed with a single 40 mm rail gun and a few fire-and-forget, ship-to-ship missiles. All useless against a boarding party outfitted like Sweets. The woman who sat in the captain’s chair might technically be in charge, but Sweets controlled ten times the firepower under her command.

It took years of trial and error to gather the right people for her squad. Her crew was loyal only to her, took orders only from her. She did her best to not waste that trust by leading them into unwinnable fights. Not every squad leader maintained the squad’s best interests at the forefront. Those leaders didn’t last long in Sweets’s line of work. If the squad didn’t leave them, they would frag the asshole from behind.

Before she suited out, she gave the lightly armored dropship a going over. Little more than a skiff, the craft carried no arms. It served the purpose of a longboat from navies long dead. In many cases, the craft was considered disposable. Sweets had yet to leave a skiff behind.

The unpressurized craft would allow the squad leader and her team to charge ahead of the patrol craft, drawing fire from the enemy, using the better maneuverability and acceleration to move in close. Anything but a direct hit on the engines or cockpit would cause little to no damage. The suits the team wore provided their best protection. Once in range, the team would EVA to their assignments. The ship would be the first target to control. Once any resistance was suppressed on the main ship, her team would spread out and collect any stragglers.

No matter the craft mining the asteroid, this should be a textbook capture. Simple, easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. She didn’t anticipate any resistance or casualties.

AD 2100 Inner Belt – Daniel Frazier

The sound of the proximity klaxon rolled Jacob from his rack. A thin curtain provided his only privacy. He looked up and found the red eyes of Ava looking back at him with a worried look.

Third shift and Ava had gotten into a drinking game, and she did her best to pull Jacob into the fray. It took willpower, but he settled on refereeing the match. For the first few hours, then he succumbed to peer pressure.

He never expected resisting Ava to be such an impossible task. The rules of the game were fluid, more made up on the spot. The goal of the game was to kill as many brain cells of every participant as possible. Including the ref.

Overtaken by the moment, Jacob followed the lead of the others and joined in with abandon. Now his surviving brain cells grieved the death of so many and caused the worst hangover the miner had ever felt.

A voice came over the intercom, “First shift, you’re needed on the bridge.” It was the first officer, Wu. With a crew of nine, three shifts of three working around the clock, Jacob had few opportunities to learn much about the others that called the ship home. Her voice seemed calm but still boomed in Jacob’s ears.

Something was wrong, something bad.

Two people should be down in the rock. The first officer manned the bridge. That left five to scramble out of their tiny racks and reach the bridge. The captain had his own quarters.

In the tight spaces of the ship, none bothered with niceties like dressing for the emergency. All showed up like they slept. Besides, half-naked would make loading into the suits that much quicker.

For Jacob, that was baggy white boxers. It didn’t matter when he saw how the others were dressed. He forced himself to ignore the thin white material that covered the women. He didn’t have time for that kind of reaction. Better to think of all of them as sisters. Romance on a ship never ended well.

Captain Allen beat them all to the bridge. To call the space where the crew controlled ship’s operations a bridge was a throwback to sailing ships of days long past. There was only space for two crew to sit, and with Allen on deck, most of that space was taken by his lanky frame.

Jacob and the others floated in the corridor that separated the bridge from the payload specialists’ seats and sleeping racks. The large size of the ship proved misleading for the interior habitation space. The bulk of the area inside the skin had been taken up by cargo holds and material-handling equipment.