The Militiaman, page 9
part #1 of Totality Series
Perhaps the people of Erzan would be happy about that. After all, no one liked the mining companies anyway, they just put up with them out of necessity. People might celebrate in the streets when they heard of the Executive Vice President of Development for Minco getting his comeuppance in a parking garage.
What the fuck is wrong with me! I just murdered a man, and while it may have been an accident, it’s still my fault and you can bet no judge would say otherwise. But I know he was responsible for Rainbow’s death. Where was anyone sticking up for her? Where was her justice? It was the right thing to do and it was the wrong thing to do at the same time. It’s all fucked up, just like everything else in this damn city! I shouldn’t have killed him. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but still, it was so incredibly stupid. As much as he’d considered the possibility of having to kill Marks in defense of Bella, having actually killed him felt very different.
His thoughts went on like that throughout the night. By the time he realized it was morning, his apartment was already well lit by the sunrise. In truth, there wasn’t much left to do in order to prepare for departure; his boxes for shipping were stacked near the door, and everything designated for charity was boxed and waiting for pickup where his small dining table used to be. The remainder of his lease had been taken care of by the Militiamen so his landlord wouldn’t be upset about him vacating. For all intents and purposes, as of the next morning he would homeless for a few months, until the ship made planetfall at Trepsis.
Recalling what he’d read about the journey itself at least gave him something else to think about as he rose from the couch, feeling groggy and unkempt. They’re going to put me under for five months, so that will be five months during which I don’t have to think about any of this, he told himself.
A couple of hours before his scheduled departure, a car arrived outside his building. The driver loaded his cargo into the backseat while William took one last look around his apartment, struck by the realization that it no longer looked like his. Everything had been taken down, packed up, or thrown away, and it felt to him as if pieces of himself were being scattered all over Erzan.
I’m going to miss this place, he thought, But I don’t think I’m going to miss Erzan.
Picking up the box that had Brenda’s key components in it, he pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the elevator, heading down to the car. He stuffed the box into the rear seat with the others, then settled himself into the passenger’s seat up front alongside the driver. Catching sight of himself in the side view mirror, William noticed how truly terrible he looked: his hair was a hopeless mess, his eyes were bleary and bloodshot, he hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning, and he hadn’t even taken the time to straighten his clothes since he got up, which was made obvious by the wrinkles his shirt displayed.
“Couldn’t sleep. Nervous about the trip, you know?” he explained to the driver.
The driver nodded in response. “You’re not the first, let me tell you. I don’t know what kind of people go to Trepsis. Braver folks than me, that’s for sure.”
He started the car, and William was reminded why he usually avoided taxis when the driver proceeded to relate what seemed like his entire life story, beginning with how his family originally came from Meldrin a good forty years ago, shortly before he was born.
“My mom and pop wanted to make a better life for us kids in Erzan, and the nicest place they could afford to live in turned out to be Redwater. You think it’s rough now? Sure was a lot rougher back in the ‘50s, I can tell you that,” he said. William stared ahead, not sure if the driver really believed he was listening or just wanted to hear himself talk. “My pop worked the copper mine for Day-Vern out west of the city. Had to show up at the corner of Granite and Macer at five in the AM, and came home stinking like sulfur every day. We lived in this tiny two-bedroom place where you didn’t even have room to stretch your legs out, my mom and pop in one room, my brother and me in the other.
“I remember my pop had to stare down some local stiffs, Stonecarvers I think they were. Tried to shake him down. They heard he worked the mine and thought, ‘hey, must be some cash in that.’ Not much, my friend. He wouldn’t hand it over, so they stabbed him right in the stomach. Can you believe that? They looked him right in the eyes and stabbed him, like it was nothing. Crazy fucking people, those Stonecarvers. Guys like that, they don’t even have a code, they’ll just as soon kill you for your shoes as look at you. So, there’s my pop holding his guts in and he says to them, ‘I don’t care how many times you little shits stab me, you’re not getting any money.’ Then he just started ramming ‘em with his head, right there in the hallway, shoved both guys right down the stairs. One of ‘em got a twisted ankle and a busted rib and the other guy got a broken leg, I think. The knife cut ‘em both up a little bit, too, if I remember it right. They never fucked with my pop again, you can be sure of that.
“Couldn’t afford doctors back then, I mean nobody really could, not in Redwater, so my mom put some disinfectant on, got her needle real hot to make sure it was nice and sterile, pulled out some black thread and just sewed him right up! Got an ugly scar out of it, but he was just fine. Every so often it came back and hurt him, but he sure loved telling that story. He got himself a reputation around Redwater; people said, ‘Don’t ever fuck with Hammerhead Mitchell.’ That’s what they called him, ‘Hammerhead,’ because of how he headbutted the guys, right? They say a knife’s a deadly weapon, but a head works, too.” Looking over at William, he knocked on the side of his own head for effect. “Hard as a rock, right? Like father, like son. Of course, nobody’s gonna mess with the son of the Hammerhead, either.
“Me, I never wanted to work the mines. I’m fine with driving. Always had a good sense for it, eyes on the road and all that,” he continued, and William noted with some irony that the driver spent far more time glancing over at him than actually watching the road, though he did seem to be quite a capable driver. “I’ve been driving people around Erzan for over twenty years. Sure took me a while to save up for my first set of wheels, they don’t come cheap. I had to rent one for the longest time, think it was owned by Quick Drive Service or something like that. I worked for those swindlers for a bit, and I tell you if I took in two hundred credits that day, they’d send me home with thirty. What a joke! But I saved and saved and finally I bought my own car, even taught myself how to fix it to keep the mechanic bills down. Been smooth sailing ever since, or as smooth as the sailing ever gets in Erzan, you know?”
By the time they reached Tomas E. Ramon Memorial Spaceport, William’s ears had gone numb and the man’s words had turned into unintelligible mush. He had a feeling the driver could probably tell him Tomas Roman’s life story, too, and he hoped he could get away quickly enough to avoid it. They both got out of the car at the curbside dropoff area, where William grabbed a wheeled hand truck and brought it over so they could unload his boxes onto it. He thanked the driver, handing him a ten credit note as a tip in addition to the required fee.
The driver smiled and shook his hand. “Have a safe trip!”
He returned to the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving William alone with his boxes. Ahead of him stood the entrance to the space port, fronted by a dozen glass doors and a couple of revolving ones with people streaming in and out. He’d driven past this place a few times, never having a good reason to actually go inside since he certainly couldn’t have afforded the fare to travel anywhere. Lexin had no natural satellites, so the only nearby destination in space was a station in low orbit, and from there you could go two places: back down to Lexin, or up to the high orbit station. From the high orbit station, you either went back the way you came, or you were headed for Trepsis.
Trepsis was not Lexin’s first experiment with an offworld colony. Lexin’s solar system lacked any good candidates for settlement other than the planet itself. There were asteroids to mine and two gas giants with plenty of rocky moons, but nothing with a livable atmosphere, the right gravity, and so forth. For that, they always had to look to other solar systems. Colonies had been attempted on planets in two other nearby star systems: Illum and Wendus, and neither had lasted long. Illum collapsed into disorder within a year of its founding, and Lexin was forced to send Militiamen to get the situation under control, but they failed. Communication was spotty then eventually stopped entirely, and the handful of scout ships which were sent to report never returned. Many possible explanations were offered: solar energy fluctuations disrupting ships and other equipment, even irradiating the colonists and their would-be rescuers to their deaths; a complete collapse of social order which caused any who came to Illum to be killed or captured on sight; abduction or murder by some unknown force. The government of Lexin finally opted to stop wasting resources attempting to save what they had determined to be a lost cause, turning their focus instead toward a second new colony: Wendus.
William remembered hearing about Wendus as a child, when it was still new and exciting. One of Lexin’s grandest projects, it was meant to correct the failures of Illum, and it certainly sustained itself longer: a good five years. Colonists were well trained before being approved: they were required to live for five months prior to their departure in a self-contained environment that closely simulated the unexpected conditions on Wendus. Cut off from the outside world, they were expected to survive on their own with limited supplies. Many washed out during the trial run, unable to handle the isolation, the lack of creature comforts, and the sheer difficulty of surviving with minimal resources, but even so, enough passed the rigorous training in order to settle the colony. Militiamen accountable to the authorities on Lexin were sent to maintain order from the very beginning. The colony started off strong: farms were planted, ores were mined, buildings were constructed, and a small, thriving city sprang up.
Unfortunately, nearly ten percent of the colonists died within the first two years due to an expected hazard of their new environment: Wendus came with existing flora and fauna, much of which turned out to be toxic to humans. Great pains were undertaken to clear the vegetation surrounding the city to avoid further accidental poisoning, and as the city grew, more land was cleared for development. Five years in, the city appeared to be prospering. Wendus’ unique plants and animals were harvested and studied for their desirable properties: some had medicinal uses, some had culinary or nutritional value, and some of the animal life could be domesticated. Goods were traded with Lexin on a four-month schedule, and reams of information were sent back to Lexin’s scientists for thorough examination and study.
Then one day, there was nothing. The trading ship from Wendus did not arrive as scheduled, and the one that had been en route from Lexin never returned. Politicians debated whether to send more ships, recalling with great caution what had befallen Illum. The situation didn’t seem terribly similar, but that was unimportant to those advising no action; the public simply didn’t want to risk more lives or waste any more resources. In light of the government’s refusal to act, a group of volunteers led by a curious, eccentric media mogul named Yelton, funded their own mission to Wendus. A raucous party was held for the launch with celebrities from all over Lexin in attendance, partying right up until the sixteen volunteers led by the wealthy magnate climbed into their ship and blasted off.
The ship remained in close contact with Lexin until they departed the solar system, but no one heard from them again after that. After such a public failure, even volunteer efforts to mount any further rescue attempts to Wendus were banned. Yelton’s admirers held candlelight vigils, presenting signs proclaiming Yelton’s eventual return with the survivors of Wendus. Every so often, William still saw “YELTON LIVES” in graffiti on the side of some old, condemned buildings in Redwater.
About a full year after contact was lost with Wendus, enough time for light from its star system to reach Lexin, telescopes that had been closely monitoring the area reported startling news: it was gone. Not just the planet, but the entire solar system. There had been no explosion, no unusual readings to report; it was simply there one moment and gone the next, as if it had never been there at all. The incident went into the history books as a curious anomaly, putting to rest any talk of further colonies, at least for a while.
The Trepsis project, by comparison, had such a low profile as to be virtually unknown. Facing an impending aluminum shortage, Nytrolus began investigating other planets, sending out automated probes to collect samples of atmosphere, hydrosphere, and lithosphere, and it was soon discovered that Trepsis was both habitable and rich in bauxite ore, among other useful minerals. The government was reluctant to fund another new colony, but Nytrolus was desperate to gain access to the planet’s resources and willing to pay handsomely for the government’s blessing. Even though public discussion was limited, there was no shortage of desperate people who’d do anything to escape their current circumstances and relocate to Trepsis, but it was set up primarily as a Nytrolus mining operation; its function as a new colony of Lexin was a secondary concern at best.
William made his way into the spaceport, pulling his hand truck over to a ticketing counter for check-in. A smiling, uniformed woman whose nametag labeled her “ELYSE,” took his identification and scanned it.
“Are these all you’re taking to Trepsis?” she asked, indicating the boxes.
He nodded in response, placing each one carefully on the platform beside her, which led to a conveyor belt that would deliver them to the cargo loading area. She slapped encoded stickers on them, and returned his identification card to him along with a small booklet with “ENJOY TREPSIS” emblazoned on the front of it in a snappy, dynamic font.
“These are your tickets and some information about your journey. You’ll find safety tips, answers to common questions, and contact information in case you aren’t satisfied with our service,” she informed him.
William opened up the booklet, locating his tickets in an inside pocket. “Does Trepsis get a lot of tourists?”
She shook her head, but answered with a big smile. “Not yet, but attracting more tourism to Trepsis is a major goal for NTS over the next two years.”
“Thanks,” he said sincerely. “Is there anything else? Where do I go from here?”
She pointed past the seemingly endless row of ticketing counters. “Go all the way down to where Skybeam’s counters are and turn left. That will take you to Terminal A, where you can board for your first stop at Gateway.”
He thanked her again before strolling away from the counter. As he neared the entrance for Terminal A, he noticed there were a lot more people around filing into a narrow corridor with green lights along the top that winked slowly on and off. Those must be the security scanners, he thought, unable to remember the last time he’d heard a report of anyone trying to get a gun or bomb through those. He doubted it was even worth trying.
As he approached, he heard an unexpectedly familiar voice. “William!” Linda called, rushing up and throwing her arms around him. Instinctively he pulled back, which only made her grab him tighter. “Hey! Don’t try to get away from me!”
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he replied, regaining his composure. “What’s going on? Are you coming, too? I hadn’t heard any results from the lottery.”
She let go of him, so he put a hand on her arm and guided both of them out of the path of traffic so she could explain. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I wish! I just wanted to see you off, that’s all. I’ve also never been here before, so I thought it was worth checking out.”
“It’s pretty big,” William said, looking up at the domed ceiling that must have been a hundred meters above them. “I don’t know what they do with all this space, but we could have spaceships going in and out of here all day, every day.”
“So, you’re all packed? Anything I can help with?”
“No, I don’t think so. Thanks for coming, though. I do appreciate it.” This time, he hugged her. “This isn’t going to make you late for work, is it?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I might be a few minutes late. I don’t care. Tom will have to suck it up.” She motioned to the security corridor. “You have to go through there next?”
“Yeah. I don’t think you’re allowed to follow me. It’s a secured area, and I think you have to have a ticket to get in.”
Several large signs surrounding the entrance agreed with his assumption. “Looks like you’re right. Oh well. So, this is goodbye?” she said.
“Looks that way,” William sighed. “You take care of yourself, okay?”
“Please, you’re the one I’m going to be worried about! Stay away from other girls over there,” she said with an exaggerated wink, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Oh, like you’d do anything about it,” he smirked.
She smacked his hip. “Go on, get out of here! Don’t keep the whole planet waiting!”
He started to walk away, but turned back for a moment. “I’ll be expecting those letters from you!”
“Once a week, at least!” she promised, waving.
Clutching his booklet tightly, William merged himself into the crush of people filtering into the security corridor. This is it, he thought. No going back.
The corridor opened up into the terminal proper, with a handful of gate areas used for boarding and disembarking; only one was being used at the moment, marked for NTS Flight 180. A customer service desk next to the boarding gate was occupied by a uniformed man and a woman fielding questions by passengers. Judging by the body language of some of the passengers, William could tell that they were nervous, perhaps apprehensive about their first trip into space. Along with the Trepsis information packet, Schultz had sent along guidelines for the spaceflight component and as William understood it, it was the trip to Gateway that would be the most uncomfortable primarily because passengers would be awake the whole time.
