Chapter Forty-Two – Cat to the Moon

Chapter Forty-Two – Cat to the Moon

“The 2028 Space Accord is an international agreement signed by all members of the G10 that, in essence, removes all limits on space-based weapons platforms installed by governments and private enterprises operating within signatory nations as long as these weapon platforms meet certain criteria. The most important of these is a system of safe locks, preventing the use of these weapons against Earthly civilian targets.”

–Excerpt from International Laws and Regulations, Seventy-Third Edition, 2035

***

“So… you bargained away our right to be the first to shoot?” Gomorrah asked. It wasn’t really a question, even if she’d given it that kind of tone. It was a reprimand.

We were in a small office space next to the communication room where I’d just finished chatting with Doctor Radikal and Susan. The call had ended as quickly as it began. They were both far from our timezone, and either needed to hit the hay or just get shit started for the day, so we hadn’t lingered on goodbyes. It was myself, Gomorrah, and Grasshopper. It looked like the three of us formed the more… veteran part of the Big Gun Project.

Oh, right, I’d need to tell the others that I’d kinda named our entire project without permission or input. That could wait a minute.

“Bargained away makes it sound like I was being stupid on purpose,” I said.

“So you weren’t purposefully stupid?” Gomorrah asked with a slight tilt of her head.

I paused, worked through the English there, then shook my head. “No, wait. What I mean is that what I did wasn’t stupid.”

Grasshopper reached over and touched Gomorrah on the shoulder gently. “Let’s give Catherine a chance to explain herself. It’s only fair. We gave her the task to bargain for us and our confidence that she would do her best, without first giving her all the information she’d need to do her best, or much time to consider things.”

I pointed to Grasshopper, because that was a damned good point. They’d kinda dropped me into the hot seat and I had to figure shit out all on my own there. It wasn’t exactly the fairest way of doing things.

“Fine. Sorry Cat,” Gomorrah said. “Grasshopper’s right, we kind of threw you into the situation. Nonetheless… I’d like an explanation of what went down, please.”

“Sure,” I said with a nod. That I could do, no problem. “So, two factions, right? We’ve got the… uh, Myalis, how do I even pronounce their name?”

Myalis took over the speakers in my helmet with a faint–probably artificial–crackle. “The name you’re going to fail to pronounce properly is the Nachtwächternetzwerk. Literally the Night Watchmen Network.”

“Them,” I said. “Their guy was this crazy mad scientist type. Like out of a cartoon or something, with the accent and all. Doctor Radikal. With a K. Nice guy, actually. Bit of a weirdo, but I wouldn’t mind chatting with him some more. The other gang is the Keiretsu, from east Asia. They’re not just Japanese, but I’m pretty sure the guy I spoke to–Susan–is.”

“I’ve heard of the Keiretsu,” Gomorrah said. “They’re as large as the Family, and possibly more influential within the continent they operate in.”

“Really?” I asked.

She shifted, arms dropping to her sides as she spoke. “They’re a conglomerate of corporate entities owned wholly or in part by samurai. Some of the corporations that make up the Keiretsu no longer have samurai leaders, but only because those leaders have died. If you have an Asian company and you want it to hit the top, you need to be part of the Keiretsu.”

“So it’s like a gang?” I asked.

“No, but also yes. It’s more complicated than that. They’re mostly just there to provide support, but it’s an extensive network of connections that is hard to break into and which comes with a certain guarantee of quality and competence. A lot of the companies in the group are tiny operations, but they produce the best things and will only sell to other members.”

I had a decent image of how they worked already, but this was shining a lot more light on the whole situation. “Okay. I think I see what you’re painting here,” I said. “So, let’s not fuck with them?”

“Let’s not,” she agreed. “Though I can’t see them being immediately antagonistic. We’re far outside of their jurisdiction and their business. And they love working with samurai. Your business would fit right in.”

I shrugged. “What do you know about the Night Watchmen Network?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Gomorrah said.

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“I know a little more,” Grasshopper said. “I have a few friends that are part of their group. We’re in a shared maths enthusiasts group!”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“They’re less political or business-like than the Family or the Keiretsu. They’re more like a disjointed group of friends and compatriots from across a number of cities and countries. Even here in North America. How did it go, by the way? You haven’t told us much yet.”

“Right, right,” I said. “So, yeah, the Night Watchmen get first dibs on blowing up Phobos. Or cooking it, I guess. They have a big… not-gun of their own that’s ready to fire.”

I’d received a text from Doctor Radikal, or more likely his AI. It was a link to a live count-down of when their project was going to fire.