The Callisto Gambit Read Online Free PDF

started forward with a cry of concern.
    “Shit!” the boss exclaimed. “What’s that kid doing down here? Brian, are you out of your everloving mind?”
    Brian shrugged. “They’re ISA, boss, I’d lay money on it.”
    Michael froze at the realization that Brian’s friendliness had been fake.
    “You’re obsessed with the ISA,” the boss said. Brian’s face reddened at the public putdown.
    Kelp’s condition was urgent. They all hustled back into the chamber. Brian came, too, as did several more Irishmen, toting flechette cannons. The valve closed, cutting off Michael’s view of leafy trees and green fields. He wondered if they were going to be spaced now.
    The Information Security Agency of the UN was the most dreaded organization in the solar system, next to the PLAN. It was natural to be scared of the ISA.
    But people didn’t normally jump to the conclusion that strangers were ISA agents. Unless they had something to hide …
    As the elevator ascended, and the gravity slackened, Kelp recovered. His mother, Coral, hugged him in relief.
    Brian said grumpily, “OK, I’ve just checked our visitor logs. You were right, boss; they were here before, three years ago. They may not be working for the ISA. But they’re definitely pirates.”
    Captain Haddock blustered, “We’re independent construction workers. Yes, some of the asteroids we developed may not have been ours to develop, technically speaking. But I’m a great believer in freedom of movement and the right to settle wherever a person might want. That’s something you support yourself, sir, as I understand. Regarding the pirate stuff … there’s no law against cosplay, is there?”
    Kelp wriggled out of his mother’s embrace. “No, Dad, but I’m sick of it! I’m sick of always being on the wrong side of the law. I’m sick of always having to move. I’m sick of being sick because we live in filthy construction shacks full of asteroid dust. I’m sick of playing pirate. And I don’t want to do it anymore.” His gaze fixed on the boss, proud and yet pleading. Michael watched in wonder. He’d never seen Kelp open up like this. It seemed that Kelp had seen something in the boss linked to what he saw. A chance. “If you’ll take me, sir, I’ll work on your ship. Obviously, I know a lot about construction.”
    The boss raised an eyebrow. He opened a locker and passed out glow-in-the-dark EVA suits to the Irishmen. These were color-blocked in the same greens and blues typically used on maps of Earth. Big Gothic letters on the integrated backpack-style mobility units said Salvation . He gave the last suit to Kelp. “You’ve got yourself a job, kid.”
    The rest of the Haddocks looked appalled.
    “Our permanent construction zone’s in the fuselage. Freefall environment. You should be comfortable there. If you do turn out to be ISA agents—” the boss grinned— “I’ll space you myself. Otherwise, welcome aboard.”
    Michael felt an irrational twinge of jealousy. He looked away, and accidentally met the eyes of Brian, who made a skeptical face. “Helmets on,” the Irishman said.
    The Haddocks stayed on the docking pad. Everyone else—including the armed men—got into the Dumptruck. Brian took the steering yoke. The boss rode in the back with the rest of them. Michael liked that the boss was not above riding in a glorified dumpster. Michael’s own father never went anywhere in a lesser vehicle than his own Rolls Royce skiff, or the Voidstream spaceplane for longer journeys, even though he owned a fleet of recycling barges so decrepit, they would have given the Ceres licensing commission a collective fit—if Adnan Kharbage had not had the Ceres licensing commission in his pocket.
    The boss said, “What about you, kid? What’s your name, where did you come from?”
    Michael dropped his gaze. He was feeling very lost without his mecha, barely holding it together. “My name’s Michael Kharbage. My father was going to send me to school on