Luke turned back to the group. “If you see anything you want to explore more of, just go on in, but let me know you’re bailing. We’ll meet for lunch over there, at the Hungry Mastodon.” He pointed to a restaurant at the end of the block.
One of the stores that caught Bill’s attention was Milton Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. A sign in the window advertised that they bought gold, silver, and jewelry. He nudged Matt and asked, “Want to check it out?” The irony of the name was not lost on either of them.
Matt turned to Nicole and asked if she’d be interested; she agreed. “Mind you, I’m not quite the gun nut that most Yanks seem to be, but I do enjoy shooting, so this should be quite fun.”
Bill told Luke what they were doing, and after a warning from Luke not to break anything, the three peeled off from the group and entered the store.
Bill was used to gun stores in Washington, where handguns were kept in glass cases on display, and rifles were hung on walls behind the glass cases. Usually, there would be shelves and displays scattered about the store holding ammunition, holsters, targets, and other shooting paraphernalia. The first thing Bill saw when they entered was a stack of boxes labeled “Dynamite.” He also saw cases of “Plastique Explosive – C5 Composition” and “Plastique Explosives – Semtex.” Rifles were on the walls, but so were what appeared to be machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades.
The only things that seemed remotely similar to what Bill was used to were the handguns and the shooting paraphernalia. He even saw a mortar on display, with a crate of mortar rounds next to it, both with price tags on them. Not used to the currency, he wasn’t quite sure how much it converted to in dollars, but he thought that a half ounce of gold was pretty inexpensive for a small artillery piece.
On display cases sat bottles of spirits, along with boxes and humidors of cigars. Bill even spied some cartons of Marlboro cigarettes.
“Howdy,” said an older gentleman sitting on a stool behind one of the cases.
“Hi,” Bill replied. Nicole answered with a, “G’day” and Matt just nodded.
“Can I help you with anything?” the man asked.
“Not yet,” Bill said. “We’re new here and this is our first time in a gun store, so we’re just checking things out. This is amazing!”
“I hear that from a lot of noobs from Earth,” the man said with a chuckle. “Well, if there’s anything you’d like to look at or check out, let me know.”
“Thanks.”
The three then took their time walking around the store, looking at the various implements of destruction, with occasional exclamations of “Wow! Look at this” and “Whoa. This is awesome.”
Eventually, Bill approached the store owner and asked what it would take to buy one of the weapons if he could afford it.
“Give me the money and I’ll give you the gun,” the man replied.
“That’s it? No paperwork or background checks?” Bill asked, surprised. “Even for the explosives?”
“What for? This ain’t Earth, it’s Hayek. You decide to use a gun wrong, you’ll pay for it. Ain’t nobody’s business what you want to buy or own, just as long as you don’t steal it or use force to get it.”
“I know where I’m coming after I get my first paycheck,” Matt said.
“Me, too,” Bill said.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be joining you blokes,” Nicole said. “Since the Corps is giving me guns, I don’t think I need to spend my own money on one.”
“Ooh, smart, good-looking, and fiscally responsible,” Bill said. “Don’t let her get away,” he told Matt.
“Not if I can help it,” Matt replied, grinning at Nicole who smiled back at him.
Bill turned back to the owner and asked if he’d be willing to buy a piece of jewelry.
“Sure. Watcha got?” the old man asked.
Bill dug into his pocket and retrieved the diamond ring that Jessica had thrown at him just a couple of days ago. Setting it down on the glass cabinet, he said, “This. I don’t have a need for it anymore.”
The man looked at him sympathetically. “Turned you down?”
“Not really. She gave me a choice, her or the Corps.”
“Tough choice,” the man said, picking up the ring and looking more closely at it. “Sure you want to sell? If you like, you could put it on consignment. That way you’ll get more for it.”
Bill thought about it briefly. “How long do you think it’ll take to sell?”
“Nice ring like this, not too expensive but still nice. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Okay. Let’s do it, then.”
Bill provided the owner with his name and contact information and signed a brief contract giving the man permission to sell his property in lieu of a small commission. He also gave the man his email address so he could be notified when the ring sold.
The three thanked the store owner, then left the shop, stepping out into the growing heat of the day.
For the next two hours, the trio explored downtown Milton, being sure not to try to purchase or break anything. It was obvious that Matt and Nicole were interested in Bill’s story, but he wasn’t up for talking about it and made that pretty clear.
They noticed that most people in Milton seemed to dress rather casually, to the point where Matt mentioned that he hadn’t seen a tie or suit since he arrived. It appeared that comfort overruled outdated fashions. They noticed plenty of women wearing light dresses, and both men and women wore shorts and short-sleeved shirts, with a few men wearing utility kilts. Bill was used to seeing utility kilts in Seattle, but it was apparent that it was something novel for Matt. The first time he saw a man wearing one, his jaw practically dropped.
Stores were pretty similar to what they were used to on Earth, only smaller. There were several grocery stores, but they reminded Bill of the small corner stores he saw in Earth cities. There were also none of the chain stores they were used to seeing, not even a Starbucks, which, for Bill, was a shocker. In Seattle, he’d see a Starbucks on just about every corner. Most of the coffee shops just had “coffee” listed, along with some teas and other beverages. While he saw signs for lattes, mochas, cappuccinos, espressos, and the like, none of the stores announced the brands of coffee they sold.
Curious, Bill asked one of the staff members of a coffee shop about the apparent lack of choices.
The employee shrugged and told Bill that there weren’t all that many coffee plantations on Hayek yet, most being in the Hawai’ian Islands.
Matt treated Nicole and Bill to a coffee, telling them not to worry about paying him back.
“I’ve got a pretty large chunk of money that I don’t plan on holding onto, so we might as well enjoy it,” he explained. Bill thought there was more to the story, but decided to wait until he knew Matt better before asking.
The trio sat at a covered table on a sidewalk part of the café, enjoying watching the people pass by. It was pretty easy to tell the locals compared to those that who were new to Hayek.
Bill overheard a couple next to him talking about the large number of newcomers.
“Looks like a fresh group of eff oh geez. The Corps must be starting a new class.”
“Yeah. Look at all them fresh faces. Wonder how many of them will be able to adapt to Hayek?”
Bill was intrigued by the phrase, so he did something he rarely did, turned and asked the locals what it meant.
“Ah, it’s a term we use for noobs,” replied the man, a tanned old-timer. “It means ‘Fresh Outa the Gate’. It’s a take-off on FOB and FOP from Earth, you know, Fresh Off the Boat and Fresh Off the Plane.”
That caused the trio to raise their eyebrows in mild surprise. It isn’t often that you’re not only told that you’re new to a place, but that you’re so new that you’re clueless. But, considering that it was true, none of them took offense.
“I guess that makes us FOGs,” Nicole said, smiling at the couple.
“Don’t take no offense at it, sweetie,” the ol
der woman replied. “We were all FOGs one day, except those born here, and most of them ain’t as old as you noobs the Corps brought in.”
Perplexed, Nicole asked her, “How did you know we’re with the Corps?”
“Hell, that’s easy, honey. Just look at you. Early twenties, in good health, and not out scrambling for a job the minute you crossed over. If you weren’t Corps, you wouldn’t be sitting here sipping on joe and asking me questions. You’d be waiting on me or at some other job this time of the day.” The woman chuckled.
“Fair enough,” Nicole responded, with a nod and a smile.
Looking around, Bill noticed that the woman’s description fit most of the people wandering around the square. Not only were they pretty much uniformly the same age, but they were walking around in small groups, gawking like country bumpkins fresh to the big city.
“So, where are you kids from?” the woman asked.
“Now, honey, you know that’s not a polite question,” the man said to her.
“You hush. These kids are here because they want to serve in the Corps. They ain’t running from something.”
Turning back to the trio, the woman awaited their response.
“I’m from New Zealand,” Nicole told them.
“Memphis,” Matt said.
“Pretty much all over,” said Bill.
“Sounds like me,” the man said. “My dad worked for the embassy and dragged me all over Earth. How about you?”
“Air Force,” Bill said. He usually didn’t go into discussing his upbringing, as he had discovered years ago that most people either didn’t care, didn’t believe, or tried to one-up him. It was better to keep it simple. It was hard explaining how he had moved every year or two, with the longest time in one place being his four years in Seattle while attending the University of Washington.
The old man nodded in understanding.
The woman told them that she was originally from Tallahassee, Florida, but had moved to Portland, Oregon in her youth, then migrated to Hayek when they opened the gate to immigration twenty years ago. “Met this old coot way back in the beginning,” she said, indicating the old man.
“Best thing ever happened to her,” the old man said dryly. He immediately yelped, as he received a sharp kick to his shins under the table.
“What do you do now, if you don’t mind my asking?” Nicole asked, grinning.
“We’re pretty much retired,” the woman said. “We opened one of the first bars in Milton, and then got several others opened in the other cities, so now we’re just kickin’ back and enjoying life.”
Matt, looking at his watch, realized that it was close to the time they were to meet Luke and the rest of the group and told Nicole and Bill.
Bill drained the last of his coffee while Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out several pieces of silver. He dropped them on the table, causing them to clink together.
They waved to the older couple as they exited the café.
The older man said, “Stay safe out there.”
“Nice-lookin’ bunch of kids,” the old woman said.
“Yep. Sure are. Hope they make it,” Bill heard the old man say as the trio walked away.
6
The three arrived at the agreed-upon meeting spot, finding only Luke.
“So, what do you think of Milton so far?” he asked.
“Pretty amazing,” Matt said.
“It is that,” agreed Luke. “A bit more civilized than the other cities, but only a bit.”
“How did it become so, well, civilized, in such a short time? I mean, it’s a city carved out of the wilderness,” Nicole said.
“The first thing you’ve gotta remember is that it’s actually closer to forty years old than twenty,” Luke said. “The founders laid it out and brought in people to build it before they even told the world about the gate. Sorta like a private club. Actually, a bunch of the cities are older than twenty years, but it’s been mainly since the gate opened that they’ve grown.”
As Luke was talking, the rest of the group showed up. “You’ll find things on Hayek aren’t really as they’re represented on Earth,” Luke told them all. “I guess you could say that it’s a lot of disinformation. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the news on Earth isn’t really news, so much as sensationalism. If it was, people on Earth would know more about us.”
Luke looked at the gathered group. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” He turned and strode through the open door of the Hungry Mastodon.
The rest followed him. As Bill entered, following a hand-holding Matt and Nicole, he heard Luke telling the hostess their party size, requesting someplace cool.
The interior of the restaurant consisted of darkened wood, booths and tables scattered throughout, with an outdoor dining area visible through glass doors at the rear. Walls held a combination of color and black-and-white photographs of the local fauna. There was even a poster inviting “Like-minded Libertarians” to migrate to Hayek. The poster showed a picture of a man riding a horse, holding a rifle, looking at a herd of Mastodons in the background.
Once the group was settled around a large table near the rear of the restaurant, Bill looked at the menu and realized that, like the base cafeteria, the food was heavy on the veggies and light on the meat. But the meat was unlike any he had seen before. Mastodon, mammoth, elk, bison, and even giant sloth were listed, all part of grander meals.
Luke ordered a stir-fry consisting of a mixture of vegetables and giant sloth (“my favorite” he whispered to the group). Bill decided to try the mastodon pot pie. While the bison stew was tempting, he figured he’d expand his horizons. Plus, he loved pot pie and hadn’t had a decent one for years.
Bill ordered an iced tea. Matt ordered a sweet ice tea. Having lived a bit in the South while growing up, Bill suspected that the tea would give Matt a sugar high for the rest of the afternoon.
The talk around the table soon turned to the similarities and differences between Milton and a comparable city on Earth. The biggest differences all noted were the lack of chain stores, the lack of vehicular traffic, and the lack of pollution.
“Why is everything so clean here?” Eileen asked.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked, clearly puzzled.
“I mean, there’s no litter in the streets, the sidewalks are clean, and I haven’t seen a bum anywhere asking for money”
Luke laughed softly. “That’s probably because we care for where we live. Remember, there’s nobody here to pick up after you, so we sort of ‘encourage’ people to take responsibility for their actions. As to bums, that’s an easy one. You want a job? There’s plenty of work for you. Don’t wanna work? Don’t expect anyone to support you. Pretty much everyone on Hayek works. Hell, we’ve got more jobs than people. Also, it’s in our ethos to keep things clean. Seriously, who wants to live in a pigsty?”
“But, doesn’t that fly in the face of the ‘Tragedy of the Commons’ scenario?” Eileen pressed. “I mean, isn’t everyone out for themselves, and to hell with everyone else?”
“Well, that’s a yes-and-no answer. Are we all out for ourselves? Of course we are. Everyone is, even those helping others. It makes them feel good to do so. As to the tragedy of the commons issue, that doesn’t really apply because just about everything is privately owned.”
“What about the roads?” Brenda asked
“Privately owned or community property,” Luke said. “For example, this downtown area, all the roads belong to those owning businesses and living here. They meet annually to discuss what work to do and how to pay for it. You’ll find most communities are the same way, pretty much like homeowner associations in the US. Out in the country, it’s usually landowners building them, which is why what you’ll mostly see are dirt or gravel roads. On base, well that’s company property, so they build and maintain whatever types of roads they need.”
The waitress returned with their orders and the table fell silent. Bill was amazed at the pot-pie—the meat
tasted like nothing he’d ever eaten before. A bit chewier than beef, but not as tough as some bison he’d had, with a slightly different flavor.
After, lunch, Luke asked if they wanted to continue to explore or return to base. Half the group wanted to return, and the other half wanted to explore, so Luke agreed to stay with the explorers. Bill figured he’d have more time to explore later on and elected to return to base with Jordan and Thep. Matt told them he’d join them later, as he wanted to spend more time with Nicole.
Getting on the skytrain, Bill saw more Probies towing carts on their way to Sacajawea Base. Continuing his newfound extroversion, he struck up a conversation with a small group of them, telling them about his experiences on Hayek to date. Occasionally, Thep or Jordan would jump in with a comment or clarification, or to expand on something Bill had mentioned.
When they arrived at the base’s station, Bill guided the new arrivals to In-Processing then he, Thep, and Jordan headed toward their cabin.
Once there, Bill checked his email, hoping that information on the following week’s training would be there. It was. He, along with all the other recent migrants, was to report to the main auditorium at 0800 hours the following Monday for basic Corps of Discovery orientation, followed by basic Militia orientation and Militia equipment issue. Bill was assigned to Training Platoon 3 of Training Company A. The email also gave a link to the schedule for Basic Militia Training, known as BMT. Bill wondered if there was an advanced Militia training regimen.
Bill followed the link and saw that training lasted eight weeks. The first focused on basic matters, such as understanding the military rank structure, field hygiene, and establishing fighting positions. Two weeks were for basic firearms training, a week for field medicine, a week for weapons and equipment familiarization, a week for close-quarter combat, a week on insurgency tactics, and a final week of field maneuvers.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 7