I’m sorry, he thought, inwardly. But he knew he could never say it out loud. Apologising was a sign of weakness. Everyone on Earth knew that ...
But they weren't on Earth, not any longer. And he might just manage to stay on Meridian.
Austin sang them a couple more songs, one about a young girl who went to the stars and the other about a man who drank far too much alcohol and regularly swore never to touch the booze again, only to break his pledge the following night. The verses grew sillier and sillier as the man kept coming up with excuses, finally falling and breaking his neck. But the final verse said he found himself in heaven, drinking from a lake of booze.
“The shelter should give you some protection,” Austin said, addressing the girls. “The rest of us will sleep outside.”
Gary looked up towards the stars, high overhead. “What if it rains?”
“We get wet,” Austin said, dryly. He looked down at the fire. “I’ll take the first watch; Darrin, I’ll wake you in a few hours to take over from me. Keep the fire going and don’t hesitate to wake me if something approaches the clearing. And if you see an aircraft, use the flares at once.”
“All right,” Darrin said.
He found a reasonably comfortable place to lie down, then closed his eyes. Despite their position, sleep claimed him almost at once. But none of his dreams were pleasant.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They had been told that they could simply walk into a job. This was untrue. They might have paper qualifications, but those didn't always translate into either competence or experience. Holding down even the most basic of jobs was a real problem. They were not even prepared for rote labour. Instead, they tended to claim their Living Allowances and stay at their government-assigned homes.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Education and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
When they were asleep, Austin decided, the Earth-born looked ... different.
He studied Darrin thoughtfully, watching as the suspicion and fear slowly faded away, leaving someone who might have been considered handsome, if he looked like that all the time. Maybe not entirely innocent – Austin had once been told that no teenager could be considered innocent – but more human than the guarded persona Darrin presented in daylight, one that feared the worst of everyone. Barry too looked almost innocent, while Gary looked almost relaxed. But it was clear that Gary never relaxed completely.
Austin looked down at them, feeling a strange kind of pity. He was a product of an open culture that taught its kids to be responsible, trusted them to behave themselves and punished them when they went off the rails. They were products of a culture that taught them nothing, didn't trust anyone and considered punishment an outdated concept. Austin wasn't sure just how much of what Yates had told him about Earth was actually true, but it was quite possible that none of them would ever amount to anything once they got home. If, of course, they did get home. Darrin had certainly sounded like he wanted to stay on Meridian.
He stood up, peering out into the darkness. The light of the fire would help keep predators away, he hoped; it was also playing merry hell with his night vision. Larger creatures could be heard moving in the undergrowth, although none of them came out into the light. Austin walked to the edge of the forest, then turned back to peer into the shelter. Kailee and Samantha were cuddled together, snoring quietly. They too looked relaxed ...
Austin shook his head in disbelief as he made his way back to the fire. If they did want to stay on Meridian, they would have to learn how to fit in – and how to behave. Barry was luckier than he deserved, lucky enough to tell Austin that strings had been pulled at a very high level. He could easily have been indentured for wanton vandalism, let alone gross carelessness. And Darrin and Austin might have been dragged down with him.
Yates had warned him to watch Barry. Austin had seriously considered tying him up for the night, even though it would have definitely turned Barry into an enemy. If he’d had one other colonial-born with him, he would have been able to sleep easier. But instead ... he looked at Darrin and Abdul and winced, inwardly. Could he rely on them to look after their own interests, let alone those of the group? But they were so ignorant that they couldn't even be trusted to know what their own interests were!
Everyone is selfish, although just about everyone will try to claim otherwise, his scoutmaster had said, when discussing history and moral philosophy. This is not actually a bad thing. A person who acts in his own selfish interests can be relied upon, a person who claims to act out of selfless motives may change his mind or break his word at any time, justifying it to himself with ease.
Austin nodded to himself, looking down at Darrin. The colonials tried to act in their own best interests. No matter how tight-fisted someone was, he would keep his word – or acquire a reputation as a liar, which would make it impossible for him to do business in future. A bad reputation could destroy its holder. But Earth ... the Earth-born had never been taught the advantages of honour, even the advantages of dealing openly with other people. Maybe that was why Earth was so damn legalistic. They couldn't trust their fellows at all.
The moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie light over the campsite. Austin knew people who had gone there briefly, before returning to Meridian and admitting that a spacer’s life wasn't for them. He knew how they felt. The lunar landscape was dead and cold, without a single scrap of life. There might be spacers who sneered at the planet-bound, calling them dirty-feet or worse, but space itself was lifeless. How could anyone live there?
And how, he asked himself silently, could anyone live on Earth?
He looked at the Earth-born and shuddered. They were cruel parodies of what a human being should be, but perhaps it was to be expected. They spent all their lives in little metal and concrete boxes, either preying on their fellows or being preyed on. There was little in their life that was sacred, nothing to live or die for. And there was no safety at all. He’d seen how the girls clung together, eying the boys with barely-concealed fear. On Meridian, a rapist would be lucky if he wasn't shot or lynched. But on Earth ...
You are the product of a highly-individualised culture, Yates had said. You grew up knowing that you had to respect your fellows, even if you didn't like them. You had responsibility hammered into your head from a very early age. My charges were not brought up like you.
The thought was almost alien. How could someone be different? None of the colonists from Earth had been quite so ... obnoxious. Yes, they’d made stupid mistakes and had to learn the hard way, but they’d not been unpleasant to the first colonists and their descendents. But they were the ones who wanted to build a new life. The contest winners hadn't ever intended to leave their world.
They don’t understand that they’re caught in a trap, Austin thought. There’s no way out for them.
He shuddered, remembering the lobster pots fishermen used. They put the pots down in the morning and waited. When the lobster scuttled into the trap, it discovered that no matter how it struggled, it couldn’t escape. The fishermen pulled the trap up in the evening and had the lobster for dinner. But Earth ... Earth was a giant lobster pot for its inhabitants. For every one that got out, a thousand – perhaps more – remained hopelessly trapped on a dying world.
His watch bleeped softly. Austin muttered a curse under his breath, then looked over at Darrin. Did he dare put him on watch? Darrin hadn't fired the shot – his only crime hadn't been not stopping Barry – but who knew how he would act now, when everyone was asleep? And yet, Austin didn't dare sleep without leaving someone else on watch – or try to stay awake all night. The medical kit didn't include enough stimulants to keep him awake until they reached the Jordan.
Carefully, he knelt down beside Darrin and shook him gently. The boy’s eyes snapped open at once. Despite his tiredness, Austin realised, he’d actually slept very lightly. Austin frowned – he'd known scouts who hadn't been awoken by thunder and lightning – before remembering what he’d been told abo
ut Earth. Sleeping too deeply could get someone killed.
“I need you to stay on watch,” he said. He took a breath, then passed Darrin the rifle. “If you see something – anything – wake me up. Don’t disturb anyone else.”
Darrin looked pale in the moonlight, but nodded.
Silently praying that Darrin wouldn’t do anything stupid, Austin lay down on the ground and closed his eyes.
***
Darrin held the rifle in one hand and looked down at Austin, feeling an odd wave of envy that threatened to overwhelm him. Austin slept so easily. There was no sense of fear, no worries about a cruel stepfather or a drunken mother; there were no worries at all. Darrin hadn't slept easily anywhere, not even on the starship. After all, even though Yates had been there, he had known that Barry might do something stupid anyway.
He felt a twinge on his back as he sat down, cradling the rifle. It didn't seem fair that he'd been punished for failing to stop Barry, yet whenever he thought about it he knew that the consequences could have been far worse. Barry might have taken a shot at a passing colonial – or even at Darrin himself. He knew that there had been times when Barry and Moe had thrown balls at their fellow pupils, just for shits and giggles. And they had been no respecters of anyone. Rumour claimed that the departure of one of the younger female teachers had come after the two of them had cornered her in a supply cupboard and had some fun ...
Fun, Darrin thought. It had certainly seemed like fun, once. He’d enjoyed hearing the stories, laughing at the tales ... but now they no longer seemed funny. His back had been lashed, and it had hurt, yet in truth he knew he deserved worse. Maybe not for failing to stop Barry, but for everything else he’d seen and condoned while he’d been on Earth. He looked over at Barry, who was snoring deeply, and shuddered. If Darrin had been stronger, strong enough to defy everyone else in school, would he have acted like Barry and Moe?
He wanted to deny it, but he knew the truth. The basic rule on Earth was simple; the strong dominated the weak. Gary had been the weakest of the weak, picked on even by others who weren't particularly strong; Barry and Moe had been the strongest, the lords and masters of the school and everyone in it. Darrin himself ... he shuddered at the memory of picking on other students, then allying himself with Barry. He’d fallen into a destructive pattern without ever realising that the pattern was there, let alone that it might be wrong.
And then Yates had flattened Barry with a single punch.
The memory still made him cringe. He was used to watching teachers back down, submitting themselves to endless humiliations from the stronger pupils. Yates hadn't backed down; instead, he’d knocked Barry out, so effectively that the bully hadn’t even been able to land a blow. Barry might not have learnt anything from the experience, or the weeks they’d both spent scrubbing the floors, but Darrin had learned that Barry was no longer the strongest of them all. And then he'd wondered if that would also have been true on Earth. Maybe Barry would not have lasted long outside the school ...
He looked down at the rifle. It represented power, it represented the ability to kill ... and Austin had trusted him with it. The colonial boy ... even in sleep, he looked peaceful and relaxed, untouched by the nightmares of Earth. Darrin found himself caught between hatred, envy and a dull admiration. He wanted Austin to like him, even as he found himself envying the colonial boy for all the opportunities he’d enjoyed that had been denied to Darrin and his friends.
Bet he wouldn't last long on Earth, the resentful part of his mind muttered. But he knew, somehow, that a person as self-confident as Austin would manage to live anywhere. Why couldn't we live like that?
They’d been taught that the government on Earth provided everything they needed. It was clear to him now that the teachers had lied. None of them had ever been allowed to shape their students, to try to show them a better way of living ... or to punish them when they stepped out of line. The pupils had never been taught right from wrong – or anything better than the law of the concrete jungle. Was it really surprising that they had reverted to barbarism?
The fire was starting to flicker and die. Darrin stood up and started to feed it with twigs, followed by larger pieces of wood. The heat started to rise slowly; Darrin let out a sigh of relief, then sat down next to the fire. He’d never been allowed to build a fire on Earth or do anything else that might be dangerous. There was too high a risk of lawsuits ... or, for that matter, of someone like Barry using it as a chance to hurt a fellow student. Darrin felt shame burning through his chest as he realised that, if Barry had, he would have laughed. They would all have laughed, save for the victim. But who cared about him?
He looked back at Austin and sighed inwardly. Austin might have been thrashed by his uncle – that had been obvious – but it was clear that the colonial boy didn't bear a grudge. But then, Austin probably blamed himself for letting Barry anywhere near a weapon. Just as Darrin found it hard to understand the colonial mindset, Austin probably found it hard to comprehend just how ignorant and incompetent visitors from Earth had to be. If he had realised that there was something amiss with a visit to a shooting range, he might have refused to take them ...
Darrin shuddered, remembering the last time Fitz had thrashed him. The man had been drunk, so blinded with alcohol that it was a miracle that he’d been able to walk, let alone wield the belt. God alone knew what Darrin had done to deserve it; there was no way that Fitz had ever punished him for anything that actually deserved punishment. But he'd been left beaten and broken, his skin marred with bruises where the end of the belt had struck his bare flesh. Austin had never had to worry about a drunken stepfather. He could just have shot the bastard if he’d had one.
But, in hindsight, perhaps it was easy to understand Fitz. Like Darrin, he would have gone to school – and probably graduated with no qualifications worth having. Darrin had never really understood why students like Gary busted their balls trying to score the highest possible marks, when all one really needed to do was turn in a paper to pass, but he understood now. Fitz wouldn't have been able to find a proper job, if he had even bothered to look. His life had been utterly wasted. He didn't even have good contacts with the gangs, something that might make his life easier, no matter what he claimed. No wonder he’d spent most of his time getting smashed out of his mind.
Darrin scowled, bitterly. He’d picked on Gary too – and a dozen other boys – in the hopes of finding a diversion from the boredom of school. Maybe Fitz had just done the same. It wasn’t a reassuring thought.
He looked up at the moon, glowing high overhead. Earth had a moon too – they’d studied it in school – but he’d never actually seen it. Even if they had been allowed up to the very highest levels of the CityBlock, they wouldn't have seen the moon, not when the skies were permanently cloudy. Here, the wide open spaces both called to him and intimidated him. Part of him just wanted to run and hide from the emptiness ... maybe he should have remained in jail until they’d shipped him back to Earth. He certainly wouldn't have flown on the crashed aircraft.
But what was there for him on Earth?
Maybe Fitz was dead, instead of waiting patiently for his stepson to come home. It was the best case scenario. Darrin had never loved Fitz. There were other fathers, he knew, who were equally unpleasant to their children, but they sometimes acted like real fathers. Fitz had never seen Darrin as anything other than a source of income – Darrin never saw any of his living allowance – and a whipping boy. If Fitz was dead, his mother would be free of him, at least until she found someone else to protect her. If she could ...
Darrin swallowed. What was there for him on Earth? Nothing. He could graduate with a worthless degree and then ... he’d become just like Fitz. Maybe he’d marry Judy, have kids with her, then watch helplessly as they became just like him. Hell, perhaps he’d start beating them too, hoping to relieve his frustration. Just as picking on the weak at school had made him feel powerful, picking on his children would make it easier for him to forget t
hat he was trapped. And it would be worse, he realised as he peered into the darkness surrounding the campsite. Unlike Fitz, he would know what he was missing.
No, he told himself, firmly. I will not go back to Earth.
Austin had told him that there was no shortage of employment for someone willing to work hard. Darrin silently promised himself that he would work hard, as soon as he found a job – even simple brute labour might be more promising than living on Earth. He could find a place to live in the city, then perhaps marry someone who grew up on Meridian ... someone who would stand up for herself and her children. Someone who wouldn't let him behave like Fitz.
He had no idea if he’d ever find someone suitable. How was one supposed to pick up a girl on Meridian? The methods he'd learnt on Earth seemed more likely to get him shot than into bed with a colonial girl. He’d have to ask Austin – or perhaps he should get established first. It was a dream, he knew, one he knew would be difficult to achieve. And yet, he had the feeling that trying would have made Yates proud of him. Winning Yates’s respect would have made his life worthwhile, because his respect was worth having. He wished that he’d had a chance to tell Yates that before he’d died.
And the dream kept him awake as he waited, as patiently as he could, for the sun to rise in the sky.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
This created major problems for the Empire. The growing workforce was incapable of handling the tasks assigned to it. They could not be relied upon for anything serious, which ensured that the number of problems in the Empire’s infrastructure grew too large to be fixed.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Education and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.
The Empire's Corps: Book 07 - Reality Check Page 24