The Empire's Corps: Book 07 - Reality Check

by Christopher Nuttall

  “We are truly sorry to call on you,” Barry said, with mocking politeness. He’d taken the act from a flick they’d had to watch in school, one where the villain had been chillingly polite and the heroes had been ridiculously rude. “But I’m afraid you have to pay the toll if you wish to proceed.”

  Gary took a step backwards as Barry advanced, threateningly. The overpasses were neutral ground as far as the gangs were concerned; they served as useful barriers between their areas of influence. No one was likely to come help him, as Barry and Moe knew very well. He took another step backwards and crashed into a solid form, who grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. Barry walked up to him, coming so close that Gary could smell something unpleasant on his breath, and started to go through Gary’s pockets. There was nothing, apart from a sheet of paper with a handful of notes he'd made for himself.

  “Trying to show off, are you?” Barry demanded, as he waved the paper in front of Gary’s eyes. “Trying to prove yourself better than us?”

  Gary kept his mouth shut. Learning to read had been difficult, but once he’d mastered the skill he’d discovered a whole new world of literature and entertainment that would be forever closed to those without the ability to read. Barry, Moe and two-thirds of the class had never learned how to read a book. They were completely dependent upon the readers. In a fair world, that should have put Gary at the top and them at the bottom. But the world was far from fair.

  “And you didn't even bring anything for us,” Barry said. “Why not?”

  Gary glared at him, mutely. He was too frightened to move, but he was damned if he was going to give Barry the satisfaction of admitting that his father had stopped giving him his allowance – even if it was mandated by law – so it wouldn’t be stolen by the bullies. Barry didn't wait for an answer, he merely punched Gary in the stomach, hard enough to leave him choking helplessly. Moe let go of him a moment later; Gary crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain. No matter how often they hit him – and it was a rare day that he wasn't hurt by someone – he never quite got used to it.

  “Leave him,” Barry said. He bent down to speak directly to Gary. “And you’d better have something for us next time, you little shit.”

  Gary barely heard him through the pain. It took all of his determination to stand upright on bendy legs, then stagger through the overpass. Barry and Moe seemed to have vanished completely; Garry silently cursed them, wishing that someone – anyone – would come to his aid. But no one would help a stranger, not on Earth. There was no profit in getting involved and a great deal of risk.

  Somehow, he managed to make it though the overpass and into the apartment block. It was safer than the rest of the CityBlock, even if they did have to pay off the gangs. Even Barry and Moe would hesitate to start something there, or to break gang law when they left school and joined the gangs. From what Gary had learned, mainly by listening and keeping his mouth shut, the gangs knew better than to push their victims too far. There was no point in killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.

  “Hey,” Sammie called. “Are you all right?”

  Gary shuddered. Sammie, his nine-year-old sister ... and, just like him, a victim at school and everywhere else. She was pretty enough to be noticed; he dreaded the day when she grew into a young woman, for he knew that she would be picked on by her fellow classmates. Or she would have to put out for someone who could protect her ... he’d seen it happen, more than once, but it always ended badly. The protector got bored or annoyed; if bored, he moved on to the next woman; if annoyed, he took it out on his former girlfriend first.

  “No,” he muttered. “Piss off.”

  Her face paled; Gary felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at her, which he pushed aside as he stumbled into his room and sat down in front of the computer. It was mandatory for every schoolchild to have a computer, which were supplied free of charge by the government; naturally, it hadn't taken Gary long to realise that the government-issued computers came with special limiting software built in. Cracking the codes that allowed him unfettered access to the planetary datanet had been surprisingly simple, once he’d learned how to break into the computer codes. And it really was astonishing just how much was buried in the system, hidden from casual view.

  Turning the computer on, he opened the game he’d been playing with hundreds of other players – all online. It was a relatively simple combat game, but with human players it rapidly became more complicated. And Gary knew, without false modesty, that he was damn good at it. There, online, he was a hero, he was respected. It almost made up for the time he had to endure Barry and Moe – and what they considered funny.

  Bastards, he thought. Thankfully, neither of them played computer and datanet games, at least as far as he knew. He often fantasized that they were the players he slaughtered, one by one, in the computer network. Or that the maidens he had to rescue wore the faces of his female classmates. An hour of playing and then I will get on with my homework.

  Three hours later, he was still playing. It was so easy to lose himself in the fantasy world, where he was far more than a helpless nerd picked on by everyone and his brother. There, he was big and strong – and no one dared to mess with him. He could do whatever he liked, free of worries.

  It was so much better than the real world.

  ***

  Darrin slipped into his apartment carefully, keeping a wary eye out for Fitz. His stepfather’s work – whatever it was – gave him variable hours, something that made it difficult for Darrin to be sure of when he would be in or out of the apartment. He scowled as he caught sight of the empty bottles on one of the tables, knowing that meant that Fitz was home ... and probably halfway to drunkenness by now. There was no sign of his mother.

  He stepped into the kitchen and saw a bottle of processed milk, just waiting for him. Darrin poured himself a glass, then stepped back into the living room. The bottles looked to have been recently emptied, he decided, as he sat down on the sofa. A moment later, Fitz lurched into the room and stumbled to a halt in front of Darrin, who backed away carefully. The last thing he wanted was another fight with the older man. His mother would suffer for it.

  “So you’re home, boy,” Fitz slurred. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just got back from school,” Darrin said. It was impossible to tell what would set his stepfather off. There were days when he was almost tolerable and days when Darrin had to fight down the urge to take one of his damn bottles and bust his head with it. “I’m having a rest.”

  “Well, you can fuck off and have your rest somewhere else,” Fitz told him, turning and sitting down so close to him that Darrin leapt up at once. A centimetre to the left and Darrin would have been squashed under his bulk. “I’m busy here.”

  Darrin watched as Fitz picked up the remote control, then hurried out of the room as soon as he saw the channel Fitz was planning to watch. It showed sexual scenes that would have disgusted even Barry and Moe, scenes that made Darrin sick to even contemplate. He hesitated as soon as he had closed the door, then stepped into the bedroom his mother shared with Fitz. His mother lay on the bed, drunk out of her mind. Darrin winced in sympathy, then closed the door and walked down to his own bedroom. Inside, he locked the door – it was a right for every child to have a lockable room – and lay down on the bed. There was nothing he could do, he knew, for his mother. Even if he had been strong enough to beat hell out of Fitz – and Fitz had thrashed him once or twice, just to show him who was boss – Fitz would still make their lives hell. All he could do was wait, get an apartment of his own as soon as he was seventeen ...

  ... And then what?

  There was college, of course, and a bigger Student Living Allowance from the government, but what would he do after that? Of course, he could join the gangs. He could fight, if he had to, and he could run gambling games ... and yet, he knew that joining the gangs was a ticket to a violent death. Most gangsters didn't last past their thirtieth year, if they were lucky.

 
And there were jobs ... but the truth was that nothing really interested him enough to try to turn it into a career. He didn't have the skills or connections to become a sports star, he didn't have the intelligence or patience to operate a computer all day and everyone knew that the military was a pool for losers. There were some advantages, he knew, to joining the Civil Guard – he knew how much fun they had, harassing people – but it might not last very long. And there was no guarantee that he would be stationed on Earth ...

  He leaned back on his bed and closed his eyes. If nothing else, he could get a few hours of sleep before he slipped out to join the illegal basketball games. He could work off some steam there, then try to talk one of the girls into bed. It might help him forget his problems for a while, if she was good enough. Kailee might have rejected him, but there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

  Judy puts out, he thought. He knew that from personal experience. So does Karen and Rose and Sharon. All I have to do is get to them before someone else takes them away.

  ***

  Kailee walked with the other girls through the overpass, trying to sound brash and completely fearless as they made their way into the apartment block. No girl with a lick of common sense would go anywhere alone, certainly in the giant cityblocks. Everyone knew that robbery, rape and murder was constantly on the rise, no matter how much the news broadcasts tried to downplay it. There was no shortage of people who had lost a daughter, girlfriend, wife or relative to a rapist who killed after he had had his fun. Safety in numbers was the only way to get around, at least outside the apartment themselves.

  She didn't relax as they walked into the apartment block, for the gangsters were waiting. The bribes they had been paid kept them from touching the girls, but they didn't stop the gangsters from watching, whistling or calling out crude invitations. Many of the invitations even sounded good, yet Kailee had heard the stories. A gangster boyfriend would be kind and loving for a month, then start gently pushing the girl into prostitution and eventually abandon her to one of the cheap and nasty brothels at the very lowest level of the CityBlock. If, of course, she lasted that long. There were occasional skirmishes between the gangs that ended in girls being kidnapped and put to work elsewhere, without even a fig-leaf of justification.

  “Hey, baby,” one of the gangsters called, thrusting his pelvis forward. “Light my fire?”

  Kailee ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor until they were past the checkpoint and heading into the residential area. Even simple eye contact could be interpreted badly – and she knew better than to think that anyone would come to her rescue, if the gangster snatched her. It was a relief when she finally reached her apartment and pressed her fingertips against the sensor, allowing her to step inside.

  Her family must have annoyed someone in the bureaucracy, she knew, for the twenty-seven of them were crammed into one relatively small apartment. Kailee’s father had two sisters and a brother, all of whom had a partner of their own and several children. She had to share her bedroom – despite the law – with four other girls, all younger than her and terribly irritating. No matter how much she begged and pleaded, her father had refused to emancipate her ahead of schedule, pointing out that she was really too young to apply for her own apartment. It wouldn't be safe.

  “Kailee,” her aunt said. As always with Aunt Lillian, there was no break, nothing but demands, demands and demands. At least her parents left her alone most of the time, although in such a cramped apartment it was hard to be really alone. “Come help with the washing.”

  Kailee shook her head, muttered something about needing to rest and then fled into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She dropped her bag on the bed and scowled at the mess. The little monsters had been in her makeup kit again, applying the expensive products – she’d saved for months to buy them – to their faces in hopes of making themselves look better. Swearing out loud, she picked up what remained and stuffed them under her bed, knowing that it would only delay them the next time around. There was no point in complaining to her father and his siblings, not when they didn't have the money to replace what their kids had damaged, nor the nerve to actually punish them. But then, a kid’s complaint against his or her parents might easily be upheld.

  Unless it comes from me, she thought, sourly. She was almost sure that her uncle had peeked at her two weeks ago, when she’d been in the shower. But she didn't know ...

  Bitterly, she lay down on the bed and forced herself to concentrate, plotting the email she planned to send to the agents as soon as she turned seventeen. The sooner she was out of the apartment, the better. Her success would leave her roots so far behind that no one would ever connect her to Rowdy Yates CityBlock or a cramped apartment, filled with too many people for any privacy.

  Because she knew if she stayed, she was going to go mad ... or worse.

  There was an angry rap on the door. “Kailee,” Aunt Lillian snapped. “Come here!”

  Kailee sighed, knowing that her aunt wouldn't hesitate to open the door. “Coming,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Couldn't her aunt take a break, just once in a while? “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Five

  However, creating a flexible mind requires flexibility. A person who can reason can move from skill to skill, a person who cannot understand the background can only learn by rote. Memorising and understanding, put bluntly, are not the same.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. Education and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.

  Seven days later, Darrin had almost forgotten about the essay – and the whole competition. It was just another piece of pointless schoolwork that would lead to nothing, he knew, and thus was barely worth worrying about, not when he could try to lure girls into bed or play games outside school, where they could actually keep score. He was surprised when, after lunch, they were told to assemble in the main hall for an important announcement. Tired and bored, he followed the other boys into their section of the giant room. It looked as though almost all of the students had gathered for the announcement.

  He rolled his eyes as he took his seat. The last ‘important’ announcement had consisted of a statement that the nutrient value of school lunches had been improved, thanks to the enlightened polices of the Grand Senate. None of them had tasted any improvement, Darrin remembered; if anything, the food had managed the impossible and gone further downhill. It was not surprising that students tried to smuggle in food from outside the school, he knew; the only real surprise was that the teachers ate with the students. In their place, Darrin would have brought in food from their homes and eaten it in private. But there was very little privacy for anyone in the school.

  The sound of chatter grew louder as the students relaxed. Few of them would actually pay attention, Darrin knew; there was little point. The only assembly he could remember looking forward to was the annual prize-giving – and he’d changed his mind after realising that the prizes were not allocated on any basis that actually made sense. And besides, no awards were given out for either academic or sporting achievement. The whole system seemed thoroughly absurd to him.

  Judy sat down next to him, her hand reaching for his. Darrin hesitated – he wasn't sure that he wanted people to think she was his girlfriend – and then took her hand, feeling her shifting until she was actually leaning against him. She felt warm to the touch, so warm that he had to fight down the urge to kiss and cuddle her in public. All around them, other couples were doing the same. If nothing else, the assembly could serve as make-out time. He kissed her gently, then stopped as he saw someone come to the stand. It wasn't the principal; it was someone in a dark suit, someone he didn't know. And that meant that he might be powerful ...

  “Greetings, students,” the man said. He was tall and thin, his face twisted in a sneer that suggested he knew he was far more powerful than the students. The condescending tone in his voice made it very clear. “Last week, you all submitted essays on why you w
ould like to visit a colony world. It is my pleasure to announce that four winners have come from this school.”

  Darrin blinked in surprise. He knew how to play the numbers – gambling was the sole skill Fitz had taught him – and the odds were staggeringly against four winners coming from the same school. Unless, of course, there was only one school ... or hundreds of possible winners. He’d only glanced at the instructions, but he was sure that they'd said that the competition was taking place all over the world. Or maybe the whole system was fixed. The school board might have determined the winners in advance, granting four slots to Rowdy Yates Centre of Educational Excellence.

  There are ten thousand pupils in this school, he thought. The odds of any given person being the winner are one in two thousand, five hundred.

  “Those lucky winners entered well-written essays,” the man continued, gathering steam. “It was my pleasure to read such pieces of work. The school has good reason to be proud of those who have entered the competition.”

  Darrin snorted to himself and hugged Judy as the man droned on. He doubted that more than a thousand students, if that, had entered the competition. Darrin himself had only entered a handful of sentences, more to ensure that he wasn't nagged than anything else. It wasn't as if he had much of a hope of winning ...

  Besides, even if there were no entries from outside the school, the judges would still have to read through over a thousand different essays. It was probably fixed.

  “I will now read the names of those four lucky winners,” the man concluded. “Once I have read out the names, those winners will come up on stage and receive their congratulations from me personally.”

  And get jeered at by the rest of the school, Darrin thought. No doubt all four slots had gone to the swots, the ones who had actually bothered to write a proper essay. Who is this asshole?