The Jupiter Pirates Read Online Free PDF Page B

the rest of the port as well,” Diocletia said, still looking forward to scout the ships surrounding them. “Don’t think you’re off duty because you’re not aboard the Comet . A lot of cruises succeed or fail because of something that happens in port, not space.”
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    The surface of Ceres was a maze of tunnels and pressure domes filled with merchant warehouses, provisioning yards, hydroponic greenhouses, repair shops, kips, eateries, and grog houses, advertising their wares with everything from 3D holographic displays to ancient neon tubes. Everywhere you looked there were people: gawking tourists, hurrying merchant spacers, watchful naval officers in Earth or Jovian uniforms, grimy miners, sharp-dressed officials, and hard-eyed men and women who looked like their professions might not be entirely legal.
    The Hashoones shouldered their way through the crowds between their landing field and a pair of broad doors made out of actual wood, with brass fittings. Uniformed guards stood to each side. This was the Ceres Admiralty Court, where disputes about the laws of space were heard and decided upon.
    Tycho had been to admiralty court before, and it always disappointed him that the inside was so little like the outside. After passing through those grand wooden doors, you found rows of metal benches and two plain tables reserved for the principal figures in each side of a dispute, facing the judge’s raised podium and a screen of fake potted plants.
    Diocletia sat down behind one of the two tables at the front of the room and indicated that Tycho should sit beside her. Mavry patted his son’s shoulder as he took his own seat in the row behind them, next to Carlo and Yana. Huff scanned the room suspiciously before sitting beside Yana, a difficult operation that involved whining motors and clattering metal parts.
    At the other table sat Soughton, crammed into an ill-fitting suit that was shiny at the elbows. Beside him sat a slim bald man in a much fancier-looking suit made of iridescent material. Captain Wofford and other members of the Cephalax II ’s crew sat on the benches behind them, along with a bunch of men and women Tycho had never seen. He figured they were Earth bureaucrats who worked for GlobalRex, the massive corporation that owned the Ceph-Two and, it seemed, a good chunk of everything else on Earth.
    A door opened behind the judge’s podium, and the Honorable Uribel Quence entered, followed by a uniformed bailiff. Quence was sweating profusely, as usual. Everyone in the courtroom rose and remained standing until the judge settled himself in his chair, grabbed his white wig before it could slide off in a slick of perspiration, and banged on his desk with a gavel. The Hashoones were familiar with the admiralty court judges: Quence was brisk and fair, and had little patience for fools.
    Unfortunately, Tycho had no idea what “fair” would mean today. None of the Hashoones did.
    â€œWe’ve done nothing wrong, so just answer whatever questions the judge asks you,” Diocletia whispered. “But follow my lead—if I start talking, be quiet and wait.”
    Tycho nodded. Judge Quence looked at the mediapad on his desk and frowned, the expression dragging wattles of loose flesh down below his jaw. Then he looked up, and his eyes fell on Tycho.
    â€œMaster Hashoone,” he said. “I didn’t expect to find you in my courtroom quite so soon. You’re a precocious lad. So this is your prize, then?”
    â€œYes, Your Honor,” Tycho managed, aware of how many eyes were upon him.
    â€œAnd have you brought me a copy of your letter of marque, interrogatories from the intercept, and your condemnation order?” Judge Quence asked.
    â€œI have, Your Honor,” Tycho said, getting to his feet and hearing his chair scrape across the floor. He brought the sheaf of papers to the judge’s desk and stood there, staring awkwardly at