Prologue: Breaking the Ice

Abzu's Bounty - In Geosynchronous Orbit w/Saturn - Watch Officer Caiden Lobos - 2044hrs Zulu

"Ugh microgravity."

Lobos groaned as he woke, looking at his chronometer it was exactly one minute prior to his intended wake cycle. A habit ingrained by years of service in the UN Marine Corps. One hour and sixteen minutes until he needed to relieve XO Mitchell.

The bodies needs were amplified in microgravity. In absence of stress, the hormone production went into overdrive. Earthers always had problems with this, being too sharp, too woke, too horny. It all was because of one ever present nagging itch. Lobos felt the urge to relieve himself and the dread of knowing that wouldn't be possible until the raging erection subsided. "Microgravity." He muttered under his breath, all the swelling in his joints making him keenly aware of it now.

He rolled from his bunk to his feet, a maneuver he had to learn due to the restricted space of the Abzu's Bounty. Belter Ships were made for a smaller human, to the expense of larger humans like himself. His body had adapted quickly, decades of physical conditioning gave him a unique advantage to most earthborn. Slowly he rose to his full height, 1.85 meters tall, 119kg. He strolled to the sink in the vanity, looking at the head and grimacing - it was starting to hurt his kidneys.

Opening the polished steel medicine cabinet, which doubled as his mirror, Lobos began to take supplements and pills. First, probiotic - a necessity - 21st Century doctors denied its effects but so far from Earth's soil it was vital. Biotin, vitamin D, vitamin C, a B Vitamin complex, L-Lysine, L-Glutamine. All for the first handful of pills, he washed them down with water from the tap. Beta-Alanine, Co-Vitamin Q-10, Calcium, Potassium, Reishi, Lion's Mane, Cordyceps - all optional but great performance enhancers. Another handful of water swallowed and onto the final part of the morning ritual. His most precious possessions, yohimbe bark and cinnamon bark. In lieu of wasting water to brush his teeth these he stuffed into his cheeks and began to chew methodically.

The burning from the spice motivated him to pull a pair of utilities over his sleepwear and galvanized him into action. He pulled his boots on, checked to see if the electromagnets were still working, and promptly made a beeline for the Mech Shoppe. "Morning Saveen." He grunted as he saw the Chief and headed to the maintenance lab. A wave elicited no response, Lobos didn't wait to figure out just what the Chief was working on noting that Saveen was too busy to even respond. Lobos didn't even think twice - everyone was rushed to finish their work and get the bonus.

The transition between microgravity and the simulated gravity of the spinning mech shoppe was always harsh. But of the two, the sensation of tangible gravitational forces was by far the preferred of the two. As soon as his heart came under load the urge to urinate abated - at least temporarily. The fluids trapped in his joints settled, and Lobos felt immediately more at ease.

A massive footlocker labeled "Free Weight" was the only feature in the maintenance lab currently, besides numerous slag piles and oil stains. Pulling a bar from the locker, a custom job that he and Saveen had made during their previous job. 20kg of steel, made to support many times that weight. 16 steel plates remained in the locker, 20kg each. Loading the bar was always impressive to Lobos, it was about Martian gravity in the lab, one third earth norm. 765lbs loaded on the bar, just under 350kg. On Earth, Lobos would have struggled to lift it an inch. In microgravity, he dropped it to the floor and began sets of ten, powerclean and press. Watching his chronometer between sets giving himself a minute to complete each. He did ten sets before he took a break for water.

He hadn't pulled enough blood to his back to fix the problem he faced. So he loaded a rack with the weights, and began sets of ten, box squats - in German Volume as before. It was not until he had broken a sweat that he stowed the weight and left the Mech Shoppe. He headed straight back to his quarters. Everything felt better, he stripped his utilities, entered the head, and finally relieved himself leaning against the wall on his right forearm as he checked his chronometer. 2121hrs, he felt lucky already.

After he finished, Lobos slipped into a flightsuit, heading for the mess to grab a plate of kibble and some kaffe. Which he did, nuking both together - there wasn't much in the way of taste in either but that didn't stop the big man from eating. He enjoyed the relative silence of his meal - awaiting the rest of third shift to meet up for breakfast where he could gauge the status of the crew before going about the daily routine.

Clothes floated around the Bounty’s mess, intermingling with empty bottles and flavored protein tube packets squeezed dry. They’d started gambling with alcol, but between two pilots, two Belta miners and a comms teki, that currency had dried up early in their off shift.

"Mi ere," Zaki growled, his eyes flicking to the crowned, naked man in the midst of the community cards, floating a half inch off the table, depicted with a cartoonish erection pointed at the heart in the corner.

"Feeling lucky, Belter?"

Arnova smirked from across the table, a daring look in her eyes. The small, blonde Earther wasn’t doing much better than Zaki, down to her skivvies and mag boots, although socks were also accepted antes, one of the miners had already lost his, followed immediately by his consciousness. They’d strapped him into his chair so they wouldn’t have to stare at his little rocket sailing around in zero G.

Zaki hadn’t even meant to join the game. He’d snuck into the galley in between meal times, just after a shift change, so the coast was clear. Like most corporate ships, the Bounty traveled with redundancies, including fut and owkwa reserves, enough for twice the crew on twice as long of a journey.

Owkwa was closely tracked and guarded, it’d be too tempting to siphon it off and sell it at a premium back on Ceresh, but Inyalowda clearly didn’t consider protein tubes and genetically enriched carbs much of a bounty. To the young Belta, it was more fut than he’d seen in one place in his entire life, all of those little packets neatly lined up…

He was topping off his stash. Cup Noodles.

The food inventory was loosely tracked. Crew were supposed to log what they took, but no one wanted to stop and key into the inventory system with their company ID when they were on the go and needed a nutrient infusion. A couple people stop, chat with people off the clock, a line starts forming as people wait, suddenly the crew aren’t at their stations. So they left it unlocked. As long as inventory made sense at the end, within reasonable consumption parameters, no one would showxa "ke"? However... the user system was enabled to add logs retroactively for corrections… suddenly every two or three crew members happened to be eating Cup Noodles, at least as far as the logs were concerned. Zaki had crunched the numeros, the maximum amount randomized enough throughout the shifts before it would trip any corporate overconsumption tracking systems. Cup Noodles were the perfect Belta food, Zaki wholeheartedly believed. The shipside versions were protein-infused, in compact packaging, minimal owkwa needed, self-cooking through a chemical reaction, variable flavour packets, and if a Belta is on náterash, he can just poke a hole in the container and suck, Noodles, broth and all. Nutritious, hydrating, easy to hide. The purloined Cup Noodles went into a compartment of his tool kit, he was pitching in on small repairs in his off time. He could save them, or do some serious bartering back on…

Erosh. Pashang.

Inyalowda done it, finally. It was only a matter of tim before they cleared out da Belta infestation. Zaki wondered if "reactor leak" was a euphemism for "nuke da rock", and who pulled the trigger, Earth or Mars. Everyone he knew was on da rock, save the slingshot circuit junkies he met on his disastrous visit to Jupita and a few friends who were lucky enough to make the move to Ceresh. And Romolo, because of course that sabakawala would survive.

So he put it out of his mind with drink and gambling. He’d ducked into the galley to top up his supply, or "take wa mali vedi at wa flickering light" as he explained when Arnova and her coterie walked in on him. Zaki was trying to pinch her anyway, gut opportunity. He was worried she and Olivera might have a thing going, but he’d jump between those tu in a second if they were.

The conscious miner folded, swearing the cheating Inyalowda up in da Lang. That brought it back to the dealer, Olivera, who’d collected the lion's share of the clothing but had already folded this hand. "Alrighty kids, the river."

Arnova hadn’t taken her eyes off Zaki all night. She was eying him up like a tall drink of owkwa. "Know what that is, skinny? A river?"

Zaki watched as Olivera flipped a card and let it float to join the others. Another king. The two remaining players stayed in. Arnova tossed her cards onto the table, full house, queens and kings, the queens in her hand as naked and lewd as the king, their crowns providing little in the way of modesty.

Zaki grinned wolfishly as he pointed at one king, and then the other. "Wang, tu..." He tapped and flicked his hole cards, sending them in a controlled spin in front of him--a pretty little trick he’d learned from a card shark on Erosh--for all to see. "Serí, fu. Fu bik bosmangs, guess wa river im what help mi win."

Arnova swore while Olivera studied the cards in perverse delight, muttering, "That’s a whole lot of boners…"

Zaki leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Pay up, tumang."

She tossed her top at him, leaning back in her chair, that same, challenging look in her eye. Zaki knew the type, Inya that probably got off on taking wa dirty Belta to bed. Worked for im.

The buzzing LED above the door flashed. Teng minutes until third shift. Zaki sighed, clicked his heels, kicked off his chair and soared over the table. In one fluid motion he kicked out of his boots and pulled his Krystal Kleer flight suit over his Krystal Kleer boxer briefs, tying the arms around his waist. Nice thing about a corporate gig, they provided a set of clothes upon request. Now Zaki had two pairs of socks and two pairs of underwear, pretty kushy. Zaki pinballed off the far wall, soared over to his undershirt, and had that on before he slid into his boots without even touching them. His fellow crew clapped appreciatively.

"Mi guess to gonya wait fo get mi shorts off, ke?"

"Hopefully not too long, skinny," Arnova drawled, and she shot a look at Olivera who smirked while the other Belta gambla rolled his eyes and tried to rouse his passed out kopeng.

Flying this glorified shipping container didn’t have many perks, but Zaki would take booze, Cup Noodles and sex if that was all on offer. Better than da alternative.

Lobos nearly spit his kaffe out when he espied the orgy he had missed. He stood in the doorway to the mess and savored the spectacle. He took a bite of his kibble chewing more out of habit than necessity. Making sure all three conscious parties knew he was there as he swallowed and cleared his throat. Appreciating the camaraderie of his mates, even though his middle management position and quality assurance training was screaming violation after violation.

He fished the two ibuprophen he had stashed for later out of his pocket, individually wrapped tabs, 500mg the strongest dose available. He flicked them at Zaki's exposed chest, hard enough to annoy the pilot - not enough to hurt. Lobos considered whatever hangover Zaki must've been dealing with was punishment enough - it deserved no reprimand.

"Eight hours bottle to throttle flyboy. Zehrgut mi kopeng?" For an Earthborn Irish Mexican, Lobos' ability to pronounce Belta-Lang was impressive, he sounded like a natural speaker - though his nuanced communication skills were lacking. He spoke with a Dutch Colonies inflection, which made since considering the OPA Tattoo on his right hand, it marked him to anyone as a member of Klaes Ashford's crew, an orca skull biting down on an Earther Space Station. The tattoo above depicted someone in an EVA suit, jumping through a doorway above the Earth, it had been done by hand the skin raised, the pattern of fishbones in the ink still stuck through his pale white flesh.

It was a rhetorical question - that particular regulation didn't matter. They'd all flown the tub in various forms of intoxicated - something the shareholders and upper management would probably care about if they ever knew. Lobos wouldn't bother himself with the paperwork. "Big day today, Skipper says we should reach max capacity this shift." The king with the cartoonish erection floated by his face and Lobos couldn't help but smirk. "Milowda, Same-Same." He signed his condolence to the card - empathizing. Adjusting himself he found free space at the table and continued digging into his kibble and washing it down with coffee. "I envy you today. Mi wanga atatenshun, seri days mang. Im gonya bodzha!" Emphasizing the problem by pantomiming an explosion at waist level complete with sound effect.

If there’s one thing about this kaka posting Zaki never thought might happen, it would be talking about his falota with a lieutenant to the Ghost Knife of Callisto.

Zaki caught the way Arnova and the others’ eyes widened, and everyone began to scramble for the clothes still floating about. Da Belta miner frantically tried to rouse his friend. A chill ran up Zaki’s spine before he turned around, but he already knew who was there. The third shift commanding officer, previously murdering and plundering his way through da mungs fo Jupita, Pampa pinché Coyo. On an ice hauler. Pashang.

The young pilot had clocked him the second the officer stepped onto the bridge, by his bearing and presence, and the tattoo confirmed it. A quick nervous look had passed between da Beltas on duty when they caught on. Even if Beltalowda had never heard of Pampa Coyo, the tattoo on his right hand advertised exactly what it was supposed to. Even Inyalowda who had no idea who he was treaded carefully. Coyo was imposing, had that kind of natural menace, probably part feigned and partially practiced. In any owta situation, Zaki had learned if to run into wa mang wit wa tatuyingi like that, to run.

Now he was taking orders from im.

Arnova seemed less concerned about her state of dress than the state of the mess. She and Olivera were already snatching empty bottles out of the air, clunking around in their boots. They tried to play casual as they tucked the refuse into the recycler, and she helped da Belta with his butt-ass-naked friend.

Olivera was busying himself tidying up the galley. "Looking good for that bonus, huh Mr. Lobos?"

"You’ll have to join us for cards next time, sir," Arnova said nervously with a wink as she and the conscious Belta wrapped a discarded flightsuit around da Belta’s waist and floated him out the door. They wanted to get out of Coyo’s sights as quick as Zaki did, but they were throwing him under the transport pod.

Zaki rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Milowda bera play cards, bosmang. Mi ta na du pashang… on da Bounty... ye."

Easily da most surreal conversation Zaki had ever had in his entire life. The others had cleared out, Zaki collected his tool kit, closing everything up. Coyo probably spaced people for less than swiping Cup Noodles.

"What bring you out fo Saturn, pampa?" Zaki asked, sprinkling a little more Lang Inya. His voice was heavily accented by thick Erosh cadence, what Inyalowda lovingly called "mongrel Belta".

"Bera... Mi figure you got wowk... uh, somewhere else."

"Looking GREAT for that bonus Mister Olivera!" Lobos replied with a delighted grin.

Lobos chuckled as the greenhorns scrambled to clean the mess in The Mess. An orderly mess was the last thing that he cared about, and he hoped that was clear at his relative posture of relaxation. He wasn't on duty - he didn't have to file this, and he wouldn't even if he had to. It was nice to see proper respect though - he marveled at the efficiency of Belter Culture. Even in the Marines respect for rank and file wasn't nearly as observed. Lobos had his own take on the culture though. He knew they scrambled about because he had cut his teeth doing hard shit - yet Lobos knew he couldn't do any job the five of them had and he looked at their respect as dedication to that particular job. It had his respect and he smiled whenever any of the crewmen made eye contact.

"I only ever gamble with my life Miss Arnova." Lobos offered full of swagger and confidence.

He even helped, rising from his seat carrying the kibble and kaffe to the dish pit. Not with the mess they made but moving from the doorway he began to wash some glasses and food trays in the galley "sink". It was a miserably difficult task in microgravity - water just didn't work right. Fortunately, there were few dishes and food trays left from the last shift. As he pushed them neatly into the autoclave, he turned on the sanitizer and sealed the sink engaging the vacuum to recycle the wastewater. The crew had filed out except Zaki, which was convenient as Lobos needed to talk with him.

"Mi need wowk Tenyleges send mi ere." Lobos shrugged at the question, he was probably lying by omission, it sounded earnest but lacked any real information. Lobos stood and leaned on the bulkhead finished his kaffe and kibble with a gulp then regarded Zaki.

"Zaki, I realize I interrupted something, delicate." Lobos began by way of apology. He signed this to Zaki. Then he signed that it was an urgent message. "Milowda can't afford no mistake today, sa-sa ke?" He had been on a first name basis since the day they met did not consider it a breach of protocol to address him as such.

"Camera in the engine room is out. Tu habe sum sticky, ja? Have your fun, clear your head, and get it level."

Zaki shot Coyo an almost adolescent, petulant scowl, "Mi sa-sa, pampa…"

Still, the idea that he was being taken into the confidences of an infamous pirata was intoxicating. As he turned to leave, hefting his tool kit protectively behind him, he glanced out the doorway, making sure the coast was clear. Zaki turned back to Coyo, leaning in close, as if they were discussing the fate of the system itself, and conspiratorially signed, "We expect trouble today, boss?"

Lobos checked his handheld dataterm when asked. He read something on it, due to how hard he concentrated it must have been important, this close Zaki could see the symbols of the text were encrypted, though Lobos seemed to read them real time. "Ashford ken me setorie bout fishing in chummy awkwa. If milowda want to catch sharks, zehr gut. But if ya want easy sailing, Mala kaka, milowda shit outta luck."

Placing both hands waist level palms up. Lobos signed he had nothing, as if to say he couldn't know. "De Cant, im was a Ice hauler. Same as milowda. Beltalowda gonya peep, pirate gonya target. Tings be different, tings be de same, same-same old setorie. Get a bad feeling in ya bread basket, burn like hell da otha way. If noting wrong, milowda making big bucks on dis haul."

That was probably more than Lobos had said in a week. But Zaki had a way of bringing those private thoughts out of Lobos.