“I don’t think so,” Gary said. He'd known parents who had tried all sorts of tricks to make their rations taste more palatable, but he didn't know if that counted as real cooking. “It isn't something we learned on Earth.”
“Odd,” Austin commented. He gave Gary a thin smirk. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn.”
He picked up the large frying pan and carried it into the next room. Yates and most of the boys were already seated at the table, while the girls were drifting in one by one. Gary guessed that they were taking advantage of the bathtub, assuming that the girls had one too; they’d probably been reluctant to go to the public baths themselves. Everyone knew that girls who went there were easy. Or at least that was what Gary had been told.
Li stuck up a hand. “What is this, sir?”
“Fried bacon, fried potatoes, fried eggs, fried mushrooms, fried tomato, fried bread,” Austin said. He seemed rather amused by her reaction. “Did I mention that it included fried bacon?”
He ladled out the food and watched them eat. Gary took a seat and gratefully accepted a large piece of bacon, with two runny eggs and a slice of bread. It tasted odd to him, but not unpleasant. The thought of eating real meat was no longer strange after last night. He finished his plate and looked around in hopes of more, but there was nothing left. Clearly, there was something in the planet’s atmosphere that encouraged them to eat. He’d never eaten so much on Earth.
But then, the food was never very tasty, he thought, darkly. Here, it tastes great.
“Austin, please can you show Darrin, Abdul and Steve how to wash up,” Yates said, when they were finished. “Everyone else, get ready to leave the house at 0900 precisely. That gives you twenty minutes.”
Gary glanced at his watch. Yates was correct. Where had all the time gone?
Twenty minutes later, he heard the grumbling from the boys as they complained about having to do the washing up. None of them seemed to have enjoyed it, even though Austin and Yates had both pointed out that it was necessary. A dirty plate or pan couldn't be used again until it was cleaned. And, if the newcomers couldn't cook, they could damn well wash. Gary allowed himself a moment of relief that Yates was in charge; if it had been one of the teachers from Earth, he knew that he would have been doing all the washing up. It was much easier to make Gary do something than someone like Barry.
“Remember what I said,” Yates reminded them, as they put on their hats and headed out the door. “Behave yourselves – or else.”
Gary kept close to Yates as he led them through a series of streets, staring around at the buildings. Most of them were made of wood or brick, although there were a handful made of metal. The air was cool and smelled faintly of salt, but water dripped down from the side of the buildings and ran down the streets towards the sea. None of the locals seemed particularly bothered by the threat of another downpour from high overhead. But then, they were probably used to it.
He sucked in his breath as he spotted, for the first time, a pair of colonial girls. They were laughing and joking when they first appeared, then they stopped and stared with frank curiosity at the newcomers from Earth. Gary stared back, too impressed to be careful of showing too much interest; the girls were almost obscenely healthy. They wore simple trousers and shirts, yet they somehow managed to glow with life and health that none of the girls from Earth matched. Gary felt a stirring he quickly brushed aside. After he’d been beaten up by a boy in school for showing too much interest in his girlfriend he’d restricted himself to porn. But no porn matched the colonial girls.
Barry wolf-whistled. Yates rounded on him and glared him into silence, then nodded apologetically at the girls. There was a brief moment of pity in their eyes, then they walked off down the street. Gary watched them go, feeling another wave of envy. Their lives were safe, unthreatened by bullies or would-be rapists. How could they not feel pity for someone from Earth?
They resumed walking down the street until they reached a large market, with a number of stalls hidden under bright canopies. Gary found himself looking around with a strange mix of awe and disgust; there were stalls selling live animals, or animals so freshly killed that they still looked alive. One shopkeeper was actually cutting up a sheep in front of his customers, who were calling out orders and requests for pieces of meat. Another plunged his hand into a vat of water and produced fish, flipping and flopping in his hand, for another customer. There was a dull thump as he bashed the fish’s head with a hammer, then dropped it into a bag and passed it to his customer. She gave him a handful of coins and walked off with satisfaction. Gary found it hard not to be sick.
There were stalls piled high with fruits and vegetables, followed by stalls selling cut meat and even a handful of paper books. Gary couldn't understand where they came from; paper books were rare on Earth; almost everything was online anyway. Behind them, someone was frying meat and selling colossal burgers to men wearing overalls as they made their way down towards the shore. It didn't look very healthy, but the cook was doing a roaring trade. The men chatted amongst themselves and largely ignored the newcomers from Earth. It took Gary several moments to realise that two of them were actually women. But they didn't look very feminine at all.
“Girls, come with me,” Janet ordered. She led them towards a large building at one corner of the marketplace. “Boys, stay here with Yates.”
Gary obeyed, wandering over to the bookstall and examining the books. None of the titles seemed familiar, apart from a couple they’d been meant to read in school. He picked one of them up, then winced as he realised it was actually quite hard to read printed text. And to think that he skim-read text presented to him by a reader! He put the book down and picked up another with a garish cover, one featuring a bikini-clad woman carrying a sword that was almost larger than herself. Inside, the text was so small as to be almost beyond his ability to read.
He glanced up as a line of children walked through the marketplace, none of them bothering to hide their interest in the newcomers. They couldn't be any older than nine or ten, although it was hard to tell. By then, children from the cityblocks would have learned that they couldn't trust anyone, sometimes even including their own parents. But these children seemed confident, their bright eyes unaware of any threat. Gary felt another stab of envy as he looked at their innocent faces. None of them would ever have to deal with someone like Barry. They’d grow up to be just like Austin.
“Look at this,” Darrin called.
Gary sighed, but slipped over to see what had caught his attention – and that of the rest of the boys. The stall was selling guns! He stared in disbelief, unable to accept that someone would just let Darrin, Barry and the others just look at guns, let alone handle them. But the stall-keeper seemed to have no difficulty letting them pick up and examine the weapons, even though it was clear that they had no idea what they were doing. A cold lump of ice started to form in Gary’s chest. If Barry and Darrin had been bad enough without weapons, what would they be like with them?
“That’s a standard self-defence pistol,” the stall-keeper said. “Not very easy to shoot precisely at long range, but a real killer at close ranges – unless, of course, your enemy is wearing body armour. Given the right bullets, they can even stop a charging hog if you hit the bastard between the eyes. But if you want to go hunting, you’d be better off with a standard rifle.”
Gary felt sick. Desperately, he turned away and threaded his way between the stalls until he finally came to the edge of the marketplace and looked down on the docks. They didn't seem very spectacular at first, but the sight of so many boats impressed him. There were kids on the boats, he saw, some of them no older than himself – and some definitely younger. He tried to tell himself that they were getting work experience, something that had been largely unavailable on Earth, but he didn't believe himself. Those kids were actually doing something worthwhile with their lives, already. Even in the best possible case, Gary knew that he would have been condemned to at least four
more years of schooling on Earth before he could get a proper job.
A voice spoke from behind him. “Trying to run away?”
Gary jumped, then turned around. Yates was standing there. His voice had sounded different, somehow.
“No,” Gary confessed. He wasn't sure, really, what to make of Yates. “I was just contemplating a wasted life.”
“You're not the only one,” Yates said, briskly. He nodded down towards the boats as they headed out to sea. “I understand that you helped this morning?”
“I think so,” Gary said. Yates quirked an eyebrow, inviting Gary to continue. “I wasn't sure how helpful I actually was.”
“Someone like Austin would have learned how to cook from a very early age,” Yates said, softly. “Someone like you would never have been expected to cook, or clean, or do anything else for yourself. Parents here teach their children the basics as soon as they can; parents on Earth are legally forbidden from putting their kids to work outside school, even something as minor as cleaning the dishes. Learned helplessness has been ingrained into most of you after years of schooling.”
Gary scowled. “But why?”
“You tell me,” Yates said. He turned and started to walk back towards the rest of the group, then stopped. “You’re a bright boy, Gary. You scored highly in the exams on the ship, exams which are nowhere near as ... tainted as exams on Earth. You tell me why you have never been taught to take care of yourself.”
He led Gary back to the group, then led them all into a large warehouse crammed with clothes and other supplies. A dark-skinned man measured Gary carefully, then produced a series of shirts, trousers and shoes that were perfect for the environment. According to him, they could be washed thoroughly and then dried without risking any damage at all. Gary remembered just how many clothes had been ruined during the walk to the city and wondered, helplessly, why he hadn't thought to check the requirements. Yates had been right. The information had been written down in the briefing notes they'd been given.
Back outside, they met up with a handful of other colonials, all of whom looked just like Austin. “You can spend the next hour or two exploring the city,” Yates said, pairing them up into groups. “I’ve given your escorts money for food, but report back to the house at 1600 for dinner. Don’t be late or there will be no food until late evening.”
Gary nodded. Everyone knew, now, that Yates meant it.
He feared that he would be partnered with Darrin and Barry, but instead he was matched with Steve and a colonial boy who seemed a younger version of Austin, with a brighter smile.
“My father works down at the docks,” the boy said, without even bothering to introduce himself. “Let’s go see the boats, shall we?”
He seemed rude, Gary thought, then it struck him that the locals would probably know just about everyone in the city. There was no way to be sure, but Sabre City seemed smaller than a single CityBlock on Earth. The boy might not even realise that the newcomers wouldn't know his name. How many visitors from Earth did they get anyway?
Sighing, putting the thought aside, Gary followed him and Steve down towards the docks.
Chapter Nineteen
Without clear feedback, students were unable to understand their own weaknesses, let alone come to grips with them. Students who might have had the native ability to advance never made the effort because they never realised that the effort had to be made. They believed they were doing fine, right up until the moment they left school – and at that point, it was too late.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Education and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
Darrin had to admit, as he and Barry followed Austin, that he was bored. Sabre City was a strange new environment, but it simply didn't look very interesting. The girls were attractive, yet they were strange, strange enough to make him wonder how they would react to any attempt at courtship. And there were the weapons most of them carried, either on their backs or on their belts. None of the locals seemed to find carrying so many weapons anything out of the ordinary.
The only interesting sight had been the gun stall. He’d listened with genuine interest as the seller described the weapons he sold, each one a fascinating hint of a power Darrin had never been allowed to touch. A real live weapon? Darrin knew that there were soldiers who were never allowed to touch weapons, even though they were in the military. The thought of knives and makeshift spears simply didn't compare to firearms. How could they?
“So,” Austin said, once they were some distance from where Yates had been standing, “what do you want to do?”
“Guns,” Barry said, at once. Their thoughts had obviously been running in the same direction. “I’d like to shoot a gun.”
Austin didn't seem to find anything wrong with it, even coming from Barry. Darrin found that surprising; a child who confessed to violent thoughts on Earth would often be sent to the psychologist, who would do absolutely nothing of any value. Like so much else, the whole system was absurd. The truly violent like Barry and Moe, for example, were left alone, while those who couldn't fight were harassed. Instead, Austin merely turned and led them through a maze of side-streets until they reached a large building at the edge of town.
“The shooting range should be nearly empty now,” Austin said, as they walked up the steps and into the stone building. “Most of the users will either be at work or at school.”
He was right, Darrin discovered. There was hardly anyone in the building, apart from a bored-looking man seated in front of a rack of weapons. The absence of any visible security puzzled him; on Earth, firearms were so tightly restricted that no ordinary citizen could hope to lay hands on one. Austin spoke briefly to the man, who eyed them both with some interest, then picked up a pair of long rifles and handed them to Austin.
“Most newcomers from Earth come here within the first week,” Austin explained, as he led them through a pair of heavy doors. Inside, there was a long room with a set of targets at the far end. “There are classes on weapons-handling for everyone, just to make sure that they know the basics. A weapon can make the difference between life and death out in the countryside.”
Darrin looked at him, interested. “Why?”
“Lots of nasty creatures out there,” Darrin commented. “And quite a few runaway indents.”
“So you shoot them,” Barry grunted. “Is that allowed?”
“Kill or be killed, at times,” Austin admitted. “It's quite legal to shoot an intruder on your territory, although it is generally considered a good idea to shout a warning first.”
Darrin shook his head in disbelief. He'd heard of people who had resisted muggers and rapists on Earth ... and they’d often been worked over by the Civil Guard, who hated the idea of anyone showing resistance. And that had been before the gangs had extracted revenge for their dead or wounded fellows. But if everyone in the CityBlock was armed ... he found himself silently trying to calculate just how much blood would flow in the endless corridors. It was hard to imagine anyone holding back if so much power was put into their hands.
Or maybe the gangs would just continue to dominate, he thought, dryly. The gangs are organised.
“This is a fairly basic rifle,” Austin said, retrieving a set of cartridges from a cabinet and showing them how to open up the weapon. “You can slot six bullets into the chambers, then fire them one by one. Naturally, you have to keep the weapon clean at all times ... which I imagine is something you’ll cover in the weapons classes you’ll get later.”
Darrin rather doubted that was true. There had been nothing about weapons of any kind in the schedules they'd been given. Maybe new settlers from Earth received such training as a matter of course – he knew next to nothing about operating a weapon – but they were only going to be on the planet for a couple of months. It was quite likely that Yates had no intention of teaching them anything about weapons. After all, having such knowledge might get them in trouble on Earth.
He took the rifle and slotted in the bullets,
one by one. Austin talked them through basic range safety – never step beyond the line, never point a weapon at someone – and then motioned for Darrin to take a shot at the target. Darrin lifted the rifle and pulled the trigger, which clicked. Nothing else, as far as he could tell, happened.
“Take off the safety,” Austin said, shortly. “You have to have it on at all times, except when you actually intend to fire.”
Darrin flushed, carefully clicked off the safety and took aim again. This time, there was a loud CRACK as the rifle fired, the bullet slamming into the far wall, leaving a red mark to the left of the target. Barry let out a faint snicker as Darrin realised that he’d missed. And yet he’d thought he’d aimed perfectly ...
And he’d fired a gun. The thought made his body start to shake. He was no stranger to violence, even before he’d battered Fitz and knocked him out ... and yet firing a gun made him tremble. The gun had turned him into ... what? A killer? And yet he had come very close to killing a man before ever laying eyes on a weapon. For the first time in years, Darrin was actually frightened by the prospect of violence. What did physical strength matter when one had a gun?
I could have shot Fitz, he thought. And Fitz could have shot me.
“Take another shot,” Austin urged. Absurdly, the colonial didn't seem to be the slightest bit worried about being too close to a loaded weapon. But it was all perfectly normal for him. “Or let Barry have a shot.”
Darrin hesitated, then lifted the rifle, took careful aim and fired a second shot. This time, the bullet struck the man-shaped target in the right shoulder. If the man had been real, he would have been seriously injured. Darrin let the weapon fall to point at the floor as he staggered in realisation. The gun had to be taken seriously or never touched at all.
“You might not kill him,” Austin observed, as he took the gun back. “Firing to wound might work in the movies, but it doesn't work so well in real life.”
He passed the weapon to Barry, who seemed disturbingly eager to try it. The larger boy cycled through all four of the remaining bullets, hitting the target three times. Darrin winced inwardly, unsure what to make of it. A weapon would make Barry far more dangerous and unpleasant, just like the baddies in the entertainment flicks. But they’d never actually been able to hit the hero or heroine, no matter how many rounds they’d fired.
The Empire's Corps: Book 07 - Reality Check Page 17