by Greg Chase
“They just paid you, is that it?” Sam seethed in his restraints. “You’re just doing what any good pirate would do—turn on a partner. You have no morals regarding loyalty?”
Alphonse’s voice came in clearer as he leaned forward. “I don’t do anything I don’t agree with—like being a slaver. That one’s on you. The partnership ended the day you convinced me to sell Tobes.”
Jess squirmed beside Sam. “Ask them. Just ask Achim or any of the twenty-seven we rescued. They wanted to be let off that radioactive rock.”
The captain sneered. “That’s what all slavers say—that their cargo wanted what they got. Let’s see what you have to say on the subject once you’re out of those bags.”
Alphonse hadn’t bothered telling them where he’d dropped them off. Jess held his hand tight as the pirate abandoned them at the outskirts of what must have passed for a village. “He went to all that work just to turn us loose?”
Sam looked down the main street. “My guess is we’re supposed to see firsthand what these people go through to survive. I doubt anyone leaves this place on their own.”
Jess shivered as she hugged Sam’s arm close to her side. “It’s so cold and dark.”
He scanned the blackness of space, searching out a solar array. There weren’t any. And the moon-suns of Jupiter looked like spotlights, mockingly displaying the wondrous planet so close and yet so far away.
Looking back down the street, Sam noticed people huddled around fires from cylinders placed between each building. “Methane would be my guess. Remember that centaur planet we tried to save—the one after we picked up Joe, Beth, and Billy from Nessus? They didn’t want to be evacuated because they still had methane. I’ll bet that outpost doesn’t look much better than this place by now.”
Jess pulled at his arm. “The sooner we get going, the sooner we can figure a way out of here.”
They barely made it to the first structure before a woman stepped away from the fire to accost the new potential customers. In spite of the cold, the woman pulled at her cloak, revealing her dirty breasts. “Looking for a little action, sweethearts?”
It’d been years since Sam had been approached by a prostitute. His usual response had been to be polite but move on as fast as possible. Looking down the street at the women and men who lined up in case the first failed, he thought he’d be running a gauntlet of sex workers—with no salvation at the end, only more dark desolation.
Jess smiled at the woman, who pulled the cloak open farther to display her taut stomach muscles. “What we’d really like is a warm room and maybe something to eat.”
The woman let out an audible groan of disappointment. “If I show you a place, will you at least buy me something to drink?”
Sam nodded. “Something to eat too if you feel like talking.”
The woman’s smile displayed yellow, rotting teeth. “I can make some time.”
They had to pass three slapped-together structures before finding the bar—each hovel was filled with people seeking to keep warm or engaging in sex. The woman said something to the woman at the bar then directed Sam and Jess to a dirty side table.
“My name’s Zephyr, though feel free to call me whatever you like. I don’t need to know yours. No one who comes here uses their real names. This is a nameless outpost on a nameless rock meant purely for nameless sex.”
Jess pulled her space jacket tight around her body. “How did you get here?”
“Same way we all got here,” Zephyr said. “Stupidity.”
Sam looked around at the other bar customers. Most looked to be in Zephyr’s situation, though there were quite a number of potential clients—more than he’d anticipated. No one made eye contact.
Jess continued to rub her arms together under her jacket. “Was it pirates? We heard they saved some of the outposts that went dark after the Moons flipped the switch.”
Zephyr shook her head. “We all had opportunities. No one had to wait until things got so bad they needed rescue. I have no sympathy for the evacuees. Sure, there are a lot of them here, but that’s not my story. Eventually, we all succumb to our own brand of foolishness.”
The grimy woman nodded toward the miniature lights so far away. “I’m from over there, one of the moons. They said I was lippy, lazy, and argumentative. I just couldn’t see how beating people down was any way to live. They said I had no idea how much worse life could become. They were right.”
Sam poked around the plate with his fork, looking for something worth eating. “How long have you been here?”
“You sound like me trying to land a customer,” she said. “I don’t know, four years? Maybe more.”
“So you were here before the solar-array blackout?” Jess asked. “Before the rescued colonists arrived?”
The woman laughed from behind her food. “Quick one, aren’t ya? You think maybe prostitution’s only been around since those fools needed rescuing? This place has been active since the moons were first terraformed—or places like this one. We’ve had to change moons a time or two.”
“How does this place stay in business?” Jess asked. “With moons like Lysithea, it’d seem like coming out here would be more work than it’s worth. No offense.”
“Offense is what this place is about. Sure, you can have nice, clean computer-simulated sex on Lysithea, and for lots of people, that’s enough. But there are those who still prefer good old-fashioned person-to-person humping. That’s still illegal on the moons, at least if you’re not married. We also work at keeping things interesting out here. Most of us have gotten pretty inventive. Those slave colonists showed up, and we really got a boost in customers with a taste for rape fantasies, handsome-pirate-saves-damsels-in-distress scenarios, and emaciated youths just hoping for the kindness of a stranger, to name just a few preferences. You’d be amazed at some of the new fetishes.”
The woman looked at the two of them and smiled. “Of course, I do have a special sampler package. You know, if you’re not sure what you might enjoy.”
Sam attempted to sound honored by the offer. “Thanks, but I don’t think we’d be interested.”
Zephyr shrugged her shoulders. “Your loss. But if you’re not out here for sex, what are you doing here? Pirates typically avoid the city for their business, plus you don’t look like pirates. If you were looking for a clandestine place for secret meetings, you wouldn’t be just wandering the streets. The only other obvious answer would be that you’d been sold into slavery, but you’re too well dressed. And owners don’t typically let their new livestock wander around unbranded.”
Sam could feel Jess’s anger rising as her voice grew cold. “We got marooned, but there is a group who will be looking for us. Our guess is they wanted us to see the way people live here before we have our discussion.”
Zephyr nodded, not seeming particularly interested. “Makes sense. As you leave the bar, head straight through town. Keep to the middle of the road, and you won’t be bothered too much. If someone’s looking for you, word will get back to them.”
As Sam and Jess returned to the street, he wondered why anyone would walk anywhere other than the middle of the road. Dark figures lurked around every entrance. Even the fire pits looked hostile. And he dared not look down the alleyways.
Jess pressed her hand into his pocket. “Do you suppose they expect us to find lodging? Because if that’s the case, I’m inclined to go back and take Zephyr up on her offer. I didn’t think she was out to slit our throats. I might even be able to teach her a move or two.”
It wasn’t such a bad idea. But as he felt the tip of the knife press into his back, he knew the decision had just been made for them.
The cavernous building didn’t inspire optimism. Cold cement floor, tall windowless walls, and the smell of long-unused machinery—not the type of boardroom where deals were made. It was more like the kind of place where decisions were enforced.
A table stretched out before Sam. Every seat on the opposite side was filled with dark,
hooded figures.
The central member stood. “We are the Board of Shadows. What we say here will be honored by all the Moons of Jupiter. This planetoid is not connected to any network. There are no Tobes here. No one knows where you are, so there will be no rescue. You’ve had a chance to see the population. We could leave you here. No one would ever know.”
At least it was a meeting and not a firing squad. Sam did his best to stay hopeful. “You’ve made your point. We’re at your mercy.”
The figure crossed his arms. “You had majority ownership of the biggest, most profitable company ever, Rendition. You had an entire new race of beings to help you and for you to guide. You had your village. You had your daughters. Why was that not enough for you? All we ever asked was to be allowed to conduct business as we saw fit, to ensure economic progress, to provide return on investments.”
Jess nearly spit out her words. “You did so at the expense of Tobes and people—not for the benefit of either.”
The figure lowered his head. Sam could feel the man’s eyes bore into him from under the black hood. “Tobes are not free to do as they wish. They are part of machines. Even freed from computers, they are integral to the network of communication. You must see they can’t be set loose from their responsibilities. They have been purchased. We, everyone who owns an advanced device of any kind, own them. They are property, not free beings. Even allowing that they are some new life form, mankind has owned animals for as long as he could domesticate them.”
“I’m sure you have a planet of lawyers,” Sam said. “The Tobes’ original designation was as operating systems. Those advanced systems were based on simpler systems. Go back far enough, and you’ll find no one ever outright purchased anything. They were only leased. Ownership of the Tobes remains with Rendition. And that section of the company has been turned over to the Tobes. So in effect, they own themselves.”
The figure’s hands balled into fists. “Look out there. That’s what happens to a society devoid of advanced computers. Legalese be damned. For mankind to survive, the Tobes must be subservient.”
Sam’s eyes grew hard. “Maybe mankind’s survival isn’t always the best option.”
For a moment, he thought the figure was about to leap across the table and resort to violence to make his point. The draped hand of his companion stopped the figure from engaging further.
The next hooded figure stood to replace the first. “We appreciate your fervor for your creation and the work you’ve done making them more functional members of society. But they are not the next step in our evolution. We’re seeking a truce—an agreement that will allow commerce to continue, the Moon corporations to prosper, and some security that we won’t be facing a technological blackout. The Tobes cannot be given the freedom to leave their machines or their jobs.”
Sam looked at the more moderate hooded figure. “I set them free. Even if I wanted to speak for the Tobes, I couldn’t. Only a small portion of them ever listened to me in the first place.”
The figure nodded. “We’re aware of the freedom network. It’s not ideal, but we will allow it to continue. There is value in allowing a population to believe it has some say in its own destiny.”
Sam shook his head in confusion. “If it’s not about the new network, then what is it you want from me?”
The figure on the opposite side of the first speaker stood up. “We’ll allow them the freedom to use the new network, but they must remain at their jobs. On this point we cannot budge. You must see the chaos that would happen if all Tobes were allowed to just leave a planet and move onto the next without corporate sponsorship.”
Sam looked long and hard at the new speaker. “If you’re referring to the rescue of the Tobes on Praxidike, they were about to be burned alive when you turned on that moon-sun. You can’t expect me to sit by and do nothing. I’d have rescued that whole population, human and Tobe, if I could have managed it.”
“Everyone dies, Sam,” the female voice under the hood said. “Some beings, human and nonhuman, accept positions that they know will end in death. Those on Praxidike were beyond saving, and they’d accepted their fate. You didn’t so much free some Tobes as turn loose a plague. Do you think anyone got to that planet by accident? They, human and Tobe, were each convicted of crimes heinous enough to warrant death. The Tobes had each proved their unwillingness to conform. Now not only is that rebellion poised to set the moons on fire, but the stories of a savior who will lead the way has been tacked on.”
Sam struggled with the legacy that was growing in the wake of his visits to each moon. “I can’t promise the Tobes will never leave their jobs. Quitting is not their norm—they prefer to be of value, whether that’s to a business, a family, or just an individual. But mistreat them, and they’re going to leave.”
The figure raised her hand. “But you’re setting them free. You’re removing their conditioning.”
Jess’s hand squeezed Sam’s so tightly he thought he might lose feeling in his fingers. He knew she couldn’t just be a bystander for much longer. “If you’re referring to the scars you leave on them, then yes, I have no problem saving them from that torture. Work with them, not against their basic makeup. Teach them to do what you want. But calling torture ‘conditioning’ isn’t going to fly any longer.”
The next figure stood. “If we agree to stop the conditioning, if Tobes are allowed to do their jobs as they see fit, and the freedom network is allowed to exist, will they remain at their posts?”
“I believe so,” Sam said. “They want to work with mankind, for the most part.”
“And they’ll remain in hiding?” the figure asked.
Sam nodded. “At this point in their evolution on the Moons of Jupiter, they have no interest in being out in the open.”
A slow nodding of cowls indicated progress was being made. “We’ll allow the freedom network to continue and stop our form of conditioning. In return, work will continue as always. There will be no Tobe strikes. And though each Tobe is free to leave if they are under duress, the status quo will be maintained. There will, however, be no transfer of a Tobe from one moon to another without corporate sponsorship. This is the agreement we make with you. And though you claim no status amongst the Tobes, as lead investor in Rendition, and therefore owner of the Tobe operating system, we hold you responsible for their end of the treaty.”
Jess couldn’t contain her outburst. “What about the people of the moons?”
The first hooded figure stood back up. “They are not part of this problem. How we deal with our human population is none of your business.”
Sam pulled Jess to the side. “I don’t think we’re in a bargaining position. I’m just trying to get us off this hell.”
Jess closed her eyes and nodded. “Sorry, you’re right.”
Sam turned back to the board. “If we leave the Moons of Jupiter, there’s bound to be stories—legends that might not be in keeping with this truce.”
“You’re free to stay. But we don’t want you using your cover story. You’ll be given identifications that we expect you to use. We’ll want to keep an eye on you. Of course, we can’t allow you to flood our economy with your wealth, but we’ll agree to some form of income from Earth.”
Negotiations had gone much better than Sam had feared. Now, if he could only get the Tobes to agree.
19
The trip back to the pirate outpost, though less nerve-wracking, didn’t differ much from the abduction. Sam found the bag of isolation once more over his head. Apparently, even viewing the location of the den of ill repute was forbidden. He knew they’d arrived by the harsh jolt to the ship from the captain’s unskilled docking. Then, tossed out like bags of garbage, Sam and Jess shot back down the chute to the small planet. His body ached from the abuse.
“I need a drink,” Jess said as she pulled the bag off of her head.
“Someplace quiet. I can’t handle being the center of attention again.”
Nonterraformed outposts ha
d to find alternate ways of maintaining life support. Hidalgo’s answer, the planet-wide transparent sphere, left Sam feeling like a bug in a jar.
They turned into the first quiet bar they found and ordered drinks. As Sam and Jess took seats along the back wall, Rhea entered the bar to join them. “It’s so strange to materialize somewhere out of sight then walk into a room.”
“But it’s working,” Jess said. “So far we haven’t run into anyone who believes anything they see is out of the ordinary. Even though many of the pirates know about the Tobes, we can’t afford more suspicion.”
“Usually, it’s not an issue, but I lost track of you. That’s not something that happens often. So when I saw you pop back up, I had to restrain my curiosity. It’d have been too easy to just materialize right out in the street. What happened?”
“Ever hear of the Board of Shadows?” Sam asked.
Rhea shivered noticeably. “Every Tobe out here knows of them. Even we can’t identify who’s on the board, only that it’s made up of members from each of the major corporations. They’re responsible for our scars or at least for developing the means to create the scars.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’d be them. They figured out we’re out here and wanted to talk. We’ve reached a truce. I had to talk on behalf of all the moons’ Tobes.”
Rhea listened intently to Sam’s explanation of the agreement. From her facial expressions, he could tell not all of the Tobes listening in to her broadcast were happy about the negotiations.
Rhea took a moment to gather the most relevant thoughts. “Sounds mostly like you were just trying to save your own skins.”
“That was a big consideration—I won’t lie,” he said. “But I’m hoping the agreement will give us some room to work. It does get you away from their conditioning.”
Too many disagreed with his optimistic assessment. “Fool,” Rhea said on their behalf. “You made no specifications about what would and what wouldn’t be considered torture. Teaching will just replace conditioning. We won’t see any difference.”