by Ryk Brown
“It was a large sum to provide on such short notice. You’re lucky we have assets in the system,” the man said.
“Please,” Tobin scoffed. “Do not insult me with your lies.”
“We grow impatient, Tobin. What is their location?”
“Patience. You will know soon enough.”
“I will know now, worm,” the man insisted, his still low voice taking a threatening tone.
“They are not currently accessible,” Tobin lied. The truth was he hadn’t spoken with them in several hours and did not in fact know their current whereabouts.
“Stick to the plan, my friend. Just be at my berth with your people at the proper time.”
The man grumbled. “You’d better be right about this one, Tobin.” The man finished his drink in one long gulp and departed without saying another word. Tobin continued eating his meal, an almost giddy look of anticipation of things to come on his face.
* * *
“I trust the molo meets with your approval?” Tug asked as he approached.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be fine,” Nathan said.
“How much are you asking?” It was obvious that Jalea did not think it wise for Nathan to do the negotiating.
“I’d say ten standard credits per kilogram is a fair price.”
“And there are fifty kilos per bail?” Jalea asked.
“That is correct. You can have all twenty bails, if you like.”
Jalea turned to Nathan. “It is a fair deal. I doubt you will find better.”
“How much should we buy?” Nathan had no idea how many meals that amount of Molo would provide for his crew. Nor did he have any idea how much revenue their harvesting operation would bring. He was forced to place his trust in Jalea’s understanding of the matter.
“I see no reason not to purchase the entire amount. If preserved properly, it should last you and your crew several weeks, if not longer.”
“And we can afford it?” he added in a whisper.
Jalea nodded slightly, as she turned back to Tug. “We will take the entire amount. That would be ten thousand credits, correct?”
“That is correct. How are you to make payment?”
“We are currently engaged in harvesting operations in the ring. Once we sell some of the harvest in the market tomorrow morning, we will be able to pay you for your molo.”
“That will be fine, I’m sure. But I will have to hold delivery until payment has been made. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Jalea agreed.
“I can deliver it to port, if you wish?”
“That will not be necessary,” Jalea assured him. “We will have it picked up by shuttle tomorrow.”
“If you prefer,” Tug agreed. “If you’d like, you’re all welcome to stay for dinner. I can have my wife prepare some of her delicious molo stew. Then you will taste for yourself the quality of the product you are purchasing. And for a few extra credits, I might even be able to convince her to bestow her recipe upon you.”
“We are honored by your invitation,” Jalea bowed. “Captain? I trust that would be acceptable?” Jalea flashed Nathan a look urging him to accept.
“An honor indeed,” Nathan stated graciously, trying to his best to speak in similar fashion.
“Wonderful,” Tug said. “I will inform my wife that we have guests for dinner.” Tug bowed his head before heading back to his house.
“Great,” Jessica commented. “Mushroom stew down on the farm. And to think, I joined the Fleet to get off the farm.”
“I thought you said you were from Florida?” Vladimir commented.
“What, you think Florida is all beaches and bikinis?” Jessica sniped.
“I’m not sure staying for dinner is such a great idea, Jalea,” Nathan said. “I’m not sure we should hang around that long.”
“Agreed,” Jessica added quickly, looking for any opportunity to avoid having to eat more molo.
“It would be quite rude to turn down the invitation, Captain,” Jalea warned. “And you did say that you wanted to learn more about this part of space. How did you put it, ‘take a look around’? Perhaps this might be such an opportunity.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Nathan nodded. “Sorry, Jess.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. She knew he was right, that it was a good opportunity to gather more intel. “Dinner hosts are usually chatty.”
“Jalea, will you contact Tobin and arrange for a pick-up later tonight?”
“As you wish,” she said as she stepped away.
“Jessica, set up the tight-beam mini-dish and try to make contact with the Aurora—I mean the Volander. Let them know what’s going on.”
* * *
Ensign Mendez watched as the workers carried trays of separated ores from the processor to the cargo shuttle. The workers were an odd mixture of different types of people, all men except for three women, all with no noticeable similarities between them. Although they seemed to be moving at a steady, relentless pace, the foreman continued to yell at them incessantly.
To his right, one of the flight crew for the harvesting team sat snacking on some dried substance. “Who are these people?” Mendez asked the flight technician.
“Just workers,” he replied.
“What do you mean, ‘just workers’?”
“They come from all over. Some of them come voluntarily. Others are purchased.”
“What? Like slaves?”
“Not slaves, really. They usually owe someone lots of money. They sell themselves into labor contracts in order to pay off their debt.”
“And how long are these contracts?”
“It depends on the size of their debt. Usually a few years, at least.”
Mendez shook his head as he walked away. He walked casually around the hangar bay, as he had done every so often since the harvesting operations had begun. He didn’t do it because it was necessary, but rather to give the appearance of being vigilant as a deterrent to anyone thinking of sneaking off the flight deck. But the workers had proven to be just that—workers. They appeared to have little interest in anything other than surviving their long, grueling shifts, which thus far appeared to be never-ending.
As he made his rounds, he decided to veer off his perimeter walk, instead turning inward and walking along the sorting line. A string of about ten workers stood along either side of a long conveyor belt that moved rubble from the hopper that had been unloaded from the harvester to a cargo container at the other end nearer the cargo shuttle. As the rubble passed by, the workers, who wore some type of special scanning eye-wear, picked out certain pieces, depositing them into containers at their sides. When one of the containers became full, another worker would replace it with an empty one and carry the full container off to the processor.
Mendez came to a stop at the far end of the conveyor line, standing next to the old foreman, Marcus. “What are they sorting?”
“They’re pickin’ out pieces with the highest concentrations of precious metals. You know, gold, silver—hell, there’s even diamonds in these rings. Theory is there used to be two stars in this system, but the first one went super-nova eons ago. Most of the ring is composed of a massive planet that was blown off of its orbit when the first star blew up, and the planet drifted to close to the gas giant and got pulled apart.”
“Don’t you have machines that can do the sorting?”
“Sure. But machines cost money. And machines breakdown. Workers are cheaper and more versatile.” He smiled, eyeing an attractive, although somewhat disheveled, young female worker on the sorting line.
Just then, one of the workers on the sorting line, a middle-aged man, leaned over on both hands on the edge of the conveyor. He was obviously exhausted, and was simply trying to rest for a moment. Nevertheless, his unauthorized respite quickly earned him the foreman’s wrath.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marcus bellowed as he stormed off toward the exhausted worker. “Did you hear anyone call f
or a break?”
“Hey!” Mendez interrupted, grabbing the foreman’s arm to slow his progress. “Ease up! Can’t you see he’s just tired?”
“I don’t give a damn if he’s tired! He’s paid to work, not rest!”
“I said ease up!” Mendez insisted. This time, his tone made clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.
The foreman turned to confront the ensign, bound and determined not to let anyone tell him how to run his crew. The tired worker did not want to be the cause of the dispute, knowing that even if he avoided punishment now, it would surely come later.
“It’s okay,” the worker assured Mendez. “I’m okay. I can work.” The man straightened back up and started working again. “See, I’m working. I’m sorry, sir.”
Marcus turned back to Mendez, staring him cold in the eyes.
“You got something to say?” Mendez asked in a challenging tone.
The foreman looked the young ensign over, taking special notice of both his close-quarters weapon and his sidearm. The look of confidence in the ensign’s eyes told the foreman all he needed to know. This was not a man to be underestimated. With nothing more than a grunt, the foreman returned to his monitoring position at the end of the conveyor line.
- 5 -
“It smells wonderful,” Jalea insisted politely.
Tug’s wife had brought the food in from the kitchen without so much as a single utterance. Although she had remained politely quiet thus far, it was obvious by the tension between her and Tug that she did not appreciate nor approve of the unexpected dinner guests.
“Ranni is an excellent cook. I apologize if there is not much variety, as we have not yet purchased our stock for the darkness.”
“I’m sure it will be more than enough,” Jalea told him as she passed the first dish of fried molo around the table.
“It’s a very nice place you have here, Tug,” Jessica stated, hoping to break the ice. She knew this dinner was the perfect opportunity to collect more intelligence, even if it meant having to force down more molo. “You’ve done quite well for yourself.”
“We’ve managed, perhaps better than some,” he admitted, a bit of pride reflecting in his voice. “It’s not a bad life. Hard work, yes, but not as hard as those working the rings.”
“A lot of people on Haven work the rings?”
“On Haven, there are two career paths,” Tug explained. “You either work the rings, or you provide for those that work the rings. That is the sole reason this world was reformed. People come from all over the sector to work the rings of Haven.”
“Why is that?” Nathan asked. “I mean, if it’s such hard work that is.”
“It depends. There are basically two kinds working the rings. Those that came here on their own, and those that had no choice in the matter.”
“What do you mean had no choice?” Nathan inquired.
“A man can earn a lot of money in a short time working the rings. Those that do—and survive—usually depart with enough wealth to start over someplace nicer. Maybe even start their own business on a more prosperous world. But sadly, most have come to pay off debts.”
“What? Like contract workers?” Nathan asked.
“Something like that. When someone is unable to pay their debts, they offer themselves up as indentured workers. Their creditor can then sell them to teams here on Haven, as well as several other worlds. These workers then have to complete their contract.”
“Sounds more like indentured slaves to me,” Jessica commented.
“There are many who would also consider that term to be accurate,” Tug agreed. “It may seem barbaric, but it is a system that has been in place for centuries. Unfortunately, it also has made Haven into a popular place for criminals, thugs, and other nefarious types.”
“I find it curious that the Takarans don’t venture out here,” Jessica said, hoping to take the conversation in a direction that would yield more useful information.
“Actually, it’s pronounced Ta’Akar. It’s the proper name of the family that has ruled that part of space for nearly a millennia. They do not bother this system because to do so would bring resistance from many of their neighboring systems. You see, many depend on the resources of these rings. Not all are blessed with such accessible abundance. And many of those that were so blessed, have long since depleted them. The Ta’Akar systems do not need the resources of Haven, but they find it best not to anger those that do. However, many believe the Ta’Akar do have spies on Haven, although this has never been proven.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about the Ta’Akar,” Jessica commented, the slightest hint of suspicion in her tone.
“No more than most,” Tug assured her.
“So, were you born here?” Jessica asked.
“No. I came here much by accident.”
“How so?”
“I was a fighter pilot in the Palee Militia. My ship was damaged in combat and I spent several weeks adrift. I was rescued by a cargo vessel that was headed for Haven. They recovered my ship, expecting a valid salvage. When they found me alive, they had little choice but to allow me passage. But they left me and my ship stranded on Haven. With no way back to Palee, I had little choice but to make Haven my home. So I sold one of the reactors from my ship in order to buy this modest farm.”
“What happened to the rest of your ship?” Vladimir asked.
“I scavenged a few systems from it, but it is mostly still intact. It is stored in one of the barns.”
“Really?” Vladimir exclaimed. “I would love to take a look at it. If you do not mind, of course.”
“Not at all.”
“And you’ve been working as a molo farmer ever since?” Jessica asked.
“For nearly twenty years.”
“How did you meet your wife?”
“I spotted her at the labor hall one day. She was on a work crew that I hired to build some greenhouses. I was smitten from the moment I saw her, so I bought out her contract.”
Jessica’s eyes widened with shock. “You mean you bought a wife?”
“No, I merely freed her from her obligations. I did not force her to stay with me. I even offered to pay for passage back to her world. But she refused to accept charity and insisted on earning the passage by working for me. Eventually, things just happened.”
“So she never earned the passage, huh?” Nathan joked.
“Oh, she keeps the money hidden in a box somewhere,” Tug laughed. “Sometimes she threatens to use it, when she is most angry with me.” Tug scooped up another helping of stew. “But enough about me. What about all of you? Where do you come from? I recognize the accents and mannerisms of these two,” Tug stated, pointing at Jalea and Danik. “But the rest of you are quite different. I don’t believe I’ve ever met your kind before.”
“They are from a quite distant star,” Jalea said.
“Really?” Tug stroked his chin, looking at his guests. “And how is it you find yourself so far from home?”
Jessica cast a displeased look upon Jalea. Prior to their departure from the Aurora, Jessica had counseled Nathan to avoid giving away too much information. Now she wished she had issued the same warning to Jalea.
Nathan chose his answer carefully. “A series of unfortunate events has led us to your world.”
“I see. And what is your business here?” Tug was intrigued by this news. He glanced at Jalea, who met his gaze without response.
“We’re just looking for a way to return home, as quickly as possible.”
“And have you found a way?”
“We’re still weighing options at the moment,” Nathan told him.
Tug surveyed his guests once more. “There is an old legend. It is one that the Ta’Akar have been trying to suppress for centuries. It tells how we all came from a faraway star. This legend has been the center of a controversy that has lasted countless generations.”
“How so?” Nathan asked.
“Several centuries after the Ta’Akar took co
ntrol of their world, they tried to convince the people that this legend was false, that they had been born of their own world. The people resisted, as the legend had served to support their own religious beliefs for as long as anyone could remember. But the Ta’Akar were persistent in their efforts, eventually resorting to brutality as their primary means of coercion.”
“And this worked?” Jessica asked.
“At first, no. But eventually, the people grew tired of resistance, and they simply accepted the doctrine. Publicly, all agreed with the Ta’Akar doctrine. But many continued to believe otherwise, in secret.”
“And what do you believe?” Nathan asked. “If you don’t mind my asking?”
“I am not sure what I believe,” Tug answered honestly. “However, I do not believe in the Ta’Akar ‘Doctrine of Origins.’”
“And this doctrine,” Nathan said, “it has lasted all this time?”
“You sound surprised,” Tug said.
“It’s just that such things generally fade as power changes hands over the generations.”
“Yes, but that is not the case with the Ta’Akar,” Tug explained. “You see, the royal family are privy to special treatments that greatly prolong their life span. The last ruler was in power for more than two centuries. And the current ruler is expected to be in power even longer.”
“Really?” Although the formula for such treatments had been found in the Data Ark on Earth, they had only added a few decades to the human life span, not centuries. And only then by somewhat delaying the onset of aging. “And this doctrine? Is this the basis of the rebellion I’ve heard so much about?” Nathan wasn’t sure how Tug would react to his question, but he had a feeling there was more to the farmer than he let on.
“Ah yes, the rebellion.” Tug smiled as he regarded Nathan’s question. “As you probably know, people do not generally care to be told how to think. Eventually, more and more of the Ta’Akar people began to openly reject the doctrine. When the military tried to force the matter, it sparked a violent backlash that quickly spread throughout all of Ta’Akar space. A rebellion erupted that has been going on for more than two decades. It has cost many lives on both sides, and has cost the Ta’Akar many systems over the years.”