Intergalactic Gypos By Tom Fynes

 

 

It was bound to happen. How they'd got hold of an Ion-Ramjet and into space was a job for the Earth Cops.

But now they were out there, loose in the Solar System. It was Space Marshall Territory.My area of expertise.

They were squatting on an asteroid named 16 Psyche that had habitation facilities belonging to the Federation of Green Solar Mines. And they would not move. They wanted the usual pay-off. The romantics were calling them Space Gypsies, Intergalactic Gypos. They had a Gypsey Space King and a Royal Charter they called, The Manifesto. 

Which entitled them to loot and steal anything not nailed down within the Solar System. These were the same Tar laying, Cider drinking, Sheep stealing Knackers they had always been. Homeless and on the road since Cromwell burned and killed his way through Ireland. "To Hell or to Connaught" was his war cry. How they got to be confused with Romany Gypsies is anybody's guess.

The horse and caravan might have been the merge moment. Then advancing to the large white Van and the luxury mobile homes.

A fierce devotion to the Virgin Mary. Bordering on outright paganism. Not to be messed with. Outside the law. Unless they wanted something, then it was hire the most expensive lawyer.

Paid in cash all the time. Never paid a penny in Tax. A frequent visitor to Wedding dress shops and Suntanning lounges. Always cash. Cash has no conscience. They went to sea for a bit. Dabbled in Piracy. Dressed as Muslims to squeeze the cash out of the kind-hearted folk coming out of the mosques. Scrap-yards are where they excelled. All forms of metal were delivered and sold. Stripped from Church roofs and Railway copper wiring, good to go. It was at one of these they must have come across the discarded Ion-Ramjet. Built by the UK Government, when they had some spare dosh, and then dumped when they had none. 15 years in the building and then sent to the scrap heap. Because the rest of the world had moved on, and were using the Cylon Space Elevator company to get into space. Much cheaper than a stupid inefficient Ion-Ramjet Starship.

As a Space Marshall it was my duty to enforce law and order within the Solar System. I was riding up in the Space Elevator to meet my team before heading on to 16 Psyche. I suspected the Green Mining Company would have paid them off before we arrived. But if not, moved on they would be. 

Reading through their Manifesto it stated: 

"We, the Mincéirí, believe in creating a better future for ourselves and our children. Our vision is to build a prosperous, sustainable, and equitable community in Space, where everyone has access to quality education, healthcare, and economic opportunities."

They were looking for a home in Space, and I for one hope they get it. But in the meantime, I had an AI Rifle that would ensure the rule of law, here in our Solar System was maintained.