The Terrific, Fail-Proof Heist of the Galactic Century by TJ Riteyuar
“Today, friends, we steal our biggest payload yet – and get off this blasted red planet for a while.”
Groans and mutters of agreement passed around the group of three barely awake individuals as their ‘brains of the operation’ panned through schematics on his digistack.
TJ seemed completely unaware of his comrades’ lacklustre response.
Sela, the actual brains of the operation, nudged him with an elbow. “I hear Europa’s nice this time of year.”
“I hear death is nice this time of year,” Beth-Ann grumbled. She glowered around the empty cafeteria with shadowed eyes. “Whose roving idea was it to wake up this early?”
Meanwhile, Finnigan was busy flipping through his own digistack, his face scrunched in concentration.
After three weeks of studying the luxury cruiser’s schematics, they all knew the target ship from cargo-hold to cantina. Sela was starting to see blueprints in the dorm’s instasteam shower tiles.
TJ grabbed a fistful of Herrangio jelly and shoved it into his mouth. Half of it dripped down his standard-issue waste management uniform and oozed onto the plastic table, leaving a lime-green residue. “Remember.” Their mastermind continued, unconcerned. “We’ve got six hours to get in, grab the goods, and get ourselves out before the cruiser disembarks. How’s the gear looking, Sela?”
“Managed to dig up rigging out of the recycling vats. Old Earth military issue stuff, so no one should be jettisoned into open space if I have anything to say about it.”
“Now I won’t be able to think about anything else,” Beth-Ann groaned, her pale face turning the shade of Phobos.
“You just worry about sneaking into that vault,” Sela told her.
“This is… odd,” Finn muttered, fixing his glasses.
“What?”
He glanced up as if surprised to see them all sitting there. “At first, I figured it was a glitch in the system. Maybe an update.”
“What is it?” Sela pressed.
Finn turned his digistack toward them. “Here. See what’s missing?”
Beth-Ann leaned over the table. “It’s a black screen.”
“Exactly! This is the space just outside Mars’ outer port. This log should be full of ships coming from Earth, but there’s – nothing.”
“That is odd,” Sela allowed.
“There’s always transport delays for repairs. Whole system needs an overhaul.” TJ waved it off. “Our cruiser’s still coming in, right?”
“Just docked and going through inspections now,” Finn confirmed, pulling up Dock 4’s vid.
“Well, then.” TJ beamed. “Nothing to worry about.”
But Finn did look worried.
“Yeshnuallah’s blessings to your Royal Highness.” The white-clad servant bowed and shuffled back from the gangway.
Ayr-Ro Vitreus II – Ro – stepped off the luxury cruiser and blinked around the bright atrium. It didn’t look like Mars, but then again, it was just the docks; the unfamiliar gravity shift told her enough about where she’d landed. The beep-beep of her wrist strap connecting to the Martian network reminded her that it wouldn’t be long before her parents found out where she’d run off to.
The place looked like a massive warehouse: white and clean and sterile-smelling. Boring. Though she supposed it was in the Martians’ best interest to keep the red dust outside the habitat doors.
The other cruise passengers began to push past her in the delicately rude way ultra-wealthy Earthers had mastered long ago, and filed toward the customs queue. Of course, the security was more a formality than a barrier for their type. Credit transfers to some influential virtupockets had the privileged few passing through to the other side within minutes.
Ro was grateful she’d chosen to forgo her crown. The place was full of gawking Martians – all of whom had a hollow-eyed look about them. She’d read a bit about how Martians, after leaving Earth a few centuries ago, still hadn’t adapted to the lack of sunlight. Though they took frequent sun baths and their food was chock-full of vitamins, there was something drawn and sickly about them. Ro couldn’t imagine living without trees or rushing rivers. Of course, plenty of Earthers hadn’t experienced that either.
Ro drew her velvet cloak tighter despite the domed city maintaining a stable twenty-two degrees.
As soon as the holidayers stepped out of the docks, Ro noticed a steady decline in the quality of infrastructure. Servants in white jumpsuits herded the finely dressed group toward a set of glass doors labelled “Spa” in twelve Earther languages. Ro wanted to explore, not sit in some red mud bath. She dipped out of the diamond-studded throng and found herself amidst a crowd of brown, red, and grey jumpsuits.
The Martians stared at Ro but didn’t stop her as she found a red-walled hallway marked with a food symbol and strode forth into the mysterious unknown.
Ro had hardly taken ten steps when her wrist strap bleeped. With an inescapable groan, she swiped her parents’ pre-recorded holo-faces into view. They looked furious – and panicked. The latter expressions gave her pause.
“Ayr-Ro Vitreus –!”
“– How could you –!”
“– And without telling us –!”
“Leave Mars as soon as you get this.”
With the time delay, they’d sent the message over twenty minutes ago.
“Ro.” Her mother wrung her hands. “The senate reached a decision a few months ago.”
“They’ve voted to leave Mars,” her father cut in.
Leave Mars? The Martians didn’t have transport without Earth. They wouldn’t be capable of interplanetary travel for years. Her father confirmed her thoughts a few seconds later.
“Earth is cutting Mars out of the trade routes. And blocking the other planets from interfering.”
How long had this been going on? It would’ve taken months of plotting – of hidden messages and falsified transport records.
“Get on a ship now, Ro – before it’s too late,” her father said as a final warning, and the message ended.
Before it’s too late, meaning even the Monarchy couldn’t stop what was already in motion.
Ro bolted back to the docks, pulling up short outside the doors to scan the shipping screens. There should have been a healthy stream of ships moving between the two planets. There would have been at least a month’s worth of lag time with no new transport vehicles coming in – unless it’d all been faked somehow. Who else was in on it? The Earthers must have pulled some serious strings (or filled some serious virtupockets) to keep a secret this big.
The screen listed two ships: The luxury cruiser she’d arrived on, The Amazon, and a small, unpersonned fueller tank from Venus.
“There’s our mark,” someone said behind her.
Ro spun and saw a group of Martians standing in brown jumpsuits.
The one who’d spoken, a boy with a green stain on his collar and the wide-eyed expression of having just noticed her, said, “I mean, we’re on service duties for that one.”
Ro briefly considered telling the Martians that if they jumped on that cruiser now, they’d never see their red planet again. But then she shook her head and turned away. She had her own problems to deal with.