by Piers Platt
Peshai took a bite of his salad, shuddering. “I hated that disk,” he said, as he chewed. “How’s the reactor, Chief?”
The man put the datapad down, and frowned. “Hangin’ on by a goddamn thread, not that anyone cares.”
“That new coolant device didn’t help?”
“Nossir,” the chief replied. “Did ‘bout as much good as that duct tape I used to seal the pressure release valve las’ week.”
Peshai set his fork down. “Masoud, what’s your no shit assessment?”
“No shit?” the engineer turned serious, and when he spoke, Masoud’s drawling accent had disappeared. “I don’t know how much longer I can limp it along. We need to replace it. Soon.”
“How soon?” Peshai asked. “They said they were working on rearranging the dry dock schedule for us, but the only bays that could take us were in the middle of long term overhaul jobs.”
“Tell them to get one of those ships out. They can move them back in later.”
“Okay,” Peshai agreed. “I’ll make some calls after lunch. I’ll get us shifted to emergency status.”
“It might well be an emergency soon,” Masoud agreed.
“I’m on it,” Peshai promised. He took another bite of salad. “I’m a little disappointed. I kind of figured you’d be able to rebuild it yourself.”
The engineer shook a finger at Peshai. “I could, if you would let me power the ship down for a week or so. I rebuilt the reactor on the goddamn Khonsu, back in the day, with way less equipment than I have now. Ngobe and I spent four years down in that ship piecing it together, part by part.”
Peshai stabbed a bite of salad, smiling as he listened to the familiar tale.
“I swear, when we lifted off,” Masoud said, his eyes staring into the distance. “Still one of the proudest moments of my life, virtual or not.”
“I’d be proud, too,” Peshai said, taking a sip of water.
The chief engineer looked at him curiously. “You know, you’ve never told me what your challenge was. The rest of us all have our pictures up on the wall. But not you.”
“You want me to put a picture up?” Peshai asked. He shrugged. “I can put my picture up.”
“Well, you can start by telling me what you had to do,” Masoud said.
“I left Archos’ crew after a year or so,” Peshai said.
“I remember,” Masoud said. “I stayed behind for a while longer. Don’t think we saw each other after that.”
“Right,” Peshai said. “I went to the colony, and did the farming thing for a bit. About six months in, I caught Mayor Luo stealing corn gruel from the kitchens at night.”
“That sneaky bastard!” Masoud said. “Luo was a damn saint in my version of the sim.”
“It gets worse,” Peshai said. “I confronted him about it. He offered to share the food with me, if I would keep his secret.”
“No ….”
“Mm-hm,” Peshai said. “I told him I didn’t want his damn corn, and if I caught him again, I would rat him out.”
Masoud frowned. “That was your big ethical dilemma moment? Seems a little weak.”
“No,” Peshai shook his head. “That was just the set-up for my showdown with Mayor Luo. In the morning, Luo called for a town hall meeting. Then he pretended that he was the one who had caught someone else in the act. He told everyone it was Saltari.”
“The old doctor? Come on,” Masoud said. “Who’s gonna believe that?”
“Everyone did, at first,” Peshai said. “They were getting ready to expel Saltari from the colony. I could tell that he was just devastated. He wasn’t even arguing anymore, he was just standing there crying quietly. So I stood up and told them what had really happened. Luo was pissed.”
“I imagine he would be.”
“Yeah. Luo argued with me, and tried to convince the colony that Saltari must have been stealing food for both of us.”
“They expelled you, too?”
“Nope,” Peshai said. “I told everyone I could prove it – that neither Saltari nor I had stolen any corn, but that Luo had.”
Masoud crossed his arms over his chest. “How were you gonna prove that? It’s just your word against his.”
Peshai smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “They hadn’t served corn for days in the mess hall. So I dug three holes in the ground, and we all went outside and took a crap, right there in front of everybody.”
Masoud guffawed. “You took a crap in front of the whole colony?”
“Yup,” Peshai agreed. “Still think I should put my picture up on the wall?”
Masoud laughed again. “So what happened?”
“Saltari and I produced our … evidence … which was corn-free, of course. But Luo suddenly got constipation, and started changing his story. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he saw somebody else … it was dark, and he couldn’t be sure.”
“Uh huh,” Masoud said. “I’m sure that went over well. Did you expel him?”
“We impeached him,” Peshai said. “But the general consensus was to let him stay, that some hard labor in the fields would teach him a good lesson in humility.”
“Who was the mayor after that?” Masoud asked.
“Me,” Peshai said. “I didn’t try to run, but they elected me all the same. I guess my little Sherlock Holmes routine with the corn impressed everyone.”
“You were the mayor of Oz?”
“Yup,” Peshai said. “For almost three years.”
“And then they asked you to be warden here,” Masoud said, nodding slowly. “They were training both of us, weren’t they?”
“I suppose so,” Peshai said. “They certainly threw a hell of a lot of curveballs at me while I was mayor. Between a riot in the colony, Archos and his boys stealing nearly all our food, and that flood, they kept me hopping.”
Masoud shuddered. “The flood. Don’t remind me.” Then he frowned. “Wait, if your big ethical moment was calling out Luo in front of the colony, why were you in there for another three years after that?”
“My big moment didn’t come until later,” Peshai said. “Luo killed my best friend, and I had the chance to kill him, too. It happened during the flood. I had already made it to safety in one of the trees, and I watched as Luo pushed my best friend into the path of those eel things, so he could get away. Then Luo ran to the base of my tree, but he couldn’t quite reach the first branch.”
“You helped him,” Masoud said.
“Yes, I did,” Peshai said. “I was cursing that selfish bastard the whole time, but I did help him up. And then the tree came toppling down anyway a few moments later, and I woke up back here.”
Masoud was quiet for a moment, watching as Peshai ate another bite of salad. “Does it ever feel weird to you, knowing that some of the biggest moments of our lives were fabricated?” the engineer asked. “That we were manipulated into becoming different people?”
Peshai frowned. “Does it feel weird? Yes. But I don’t feel like we were manipulated. I think we were just given the opportunity to prove we’re better than we were before. I think Oz gives each of us a lot of those moments, those chances to prove ourselves … and we miss a lot of them because we’re not ready.” He set his fork down, and pushed his tray away. “I think it’s just one big metaphor for real life, in other words.”
“Ha,” the engineer said. “I suppose it is, when you look at it like that.”
Peshai nodded. “The guy who graduated yesterday had a similar storyline to mine, I think. Luo was his chief antagonist in Oz, at least.”
“Where’s he headed?”
“He’s going to be a corrections officer out in the colonies, at a minimum security prison,” Peshai said, smiling proudly.
“From prisoner to guard, in a few short days,” Masoud mused. “You like welcoming them back, huh?”
“Best part of the job,” Peshai agreed. “Well, there are a lot of good parts, but that is undoubtedly the best.”
“It’s not a bad life we have here, is it?”
“No,” Peshai said. “It’s not. But … I’ve been here a long time. Lately I’ve been thinking it’s time for something new. To stretch my legs a little.”
“You’re thinking of resigning?” Masoud asked, with a look of concern.
“Thinking about it,” Peshai said. “I would miss it, no question – getting to help men like us every day, help them come back to the real world and start a new life. But we’ve been on this ship for close to thirty years now, counting our time in Oz. I think it might be time for me to give someone else a chance, and see a bit more of the galaxy for myself.”
“Thirty years,” Masoud whistled. “When you tally it up … it is a long time. I suppose we’ve earned a break.”
“I like to think so,” Peshai agreed. He stood up, and lifted his tray off the table. “I’ll let you know what the dry dock folks say, Chief. Keep that reactor limping along for me?”
The chief nodded. “Will do, sir.”
Chapter 14
In the shadow of the facility, Falken crouched at the ocean’s edge and scooped a handful of cool water to his lips. The reflection of one of New Australia’s moons glinted on the smooth surface of the sea, illuminating the massive rings of the space elevator wreckage scattered across the shallows. To his right, the broken outer wall of the facility lay in a jumble of rocks and cracked cement pieces.
Let’s hope Weaver’s version of Oz has the same back entrance into the facility. It’s got the same fake space elevator, at least.
Falken stood, glanced furtively around, and then began clambering up the rocks, moving as quietly as he could. At the top of the pile, he stepped through a hole in the wall, and found himself in an abandoned office. Falken paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, trying to remember how the rooms of the facility were arranged. After a moment, he navigated around the desk, stepping over a piece of broken chair on the floor. He twisted the door handle gently, and then pulled it open, holding his breath as he checked the corridor beyond. He froze.
Down the hall, Falken saw a shadowy form emerge from the doorway to another office. For a second, Falken was sure he had been caught, and then he heard a soft grunt of exertion, and he realized the other man was carrying something bulky. A tangle of wires trailed out of the doorway after the man, who paused, as if unsure where he was, and then turned and headed down the hall toward Falken. Falken let go of the door handle and crept back from the opening, hoping to hide himself in the darkness of the room. He kept his eyes locked on the approaching man. He was short – far shorter than Falken –and appeared to be struggling with the heavy object in his hands. Then, in the split second as he passed the door to Falken’s hiding place, he crossed through a narrow beam of moonlight, and Falken caught a good look at his face.
“Weaver!”
Startled, Weaver gave a shout of alarm, and dropped the object in his hands. It landed on the floor with a thunderous crash. Falken tore the door open, but the smaller man was already sprinting down the hall.
“Weaver, wait!”
The bookkeeper burst through a set of double doors, with Falken hot on his heels.
“It’s me, Falken!”
Down a narrow staircase, and then through another door – Falken was closing the distance on him – but when he pushed the door open, he found himself on a circular metal balcony overlooking a massive metal disk.
The disk! Damn it, he led me right to the heart of the facility.
Weaver was already halfway round the balcony, and another unintelligible shout brought two inmates, bleary-eyed and angry, out of doors farther around the room. They let Weaver pass, barely paying him any attention, and in the dim moonlight filtering in through the open roof, Falken saw them catch sight of him. Then he heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind him, too.
Shit.
He held his hands up.
“I just want to talk to Weaver,” he called out. “I’m not here to start any trouble.”
“Too late for that, pal,” one of the approaching inmates told him. Falken saw that he was wearing a stun-glove on one hand. “Just stay right there.”
Should have brought the damn gun.
Falken shook his head in chagrin, and waited. The inmates stood watching him, in silence, as the rest of the gang roused themselves. Complaining at the late night commotion, they emerged from their rooms, gathering around the balcony and watching Falken sullenly. Falken glanced over the railing – at the base of the disk, he could make out the dark forms of the new inmates Archos’ crew had captured, awaiting their turns on the disk.
At last, a tall figure appeared on the far side of the balcony, gave a mighty yawn, and then sauntered around toward Falken.
“Things that go bump in the night,” Archos said, his teeth grinning white in the moonlight. “What the hell just went bump, and ruined my night?”
“Looks like one of the farmers, Warden,” the inmate with the stun-glove said. “Caught him sneaking in through the back door.”
“A farmer, eh?” As Archos drew closer, the smile slipped from his face. “… Bird-man?” he breathed. “Can it be?”
Falken inclined his head. “Archos.” Last time I saw you, we fought out there on that disk. You nearly killed me … and then you did kill me, at the Khonsu. But none of that happened in this version of events. All I did was run away from the facility. I hope.
“My, my … an old friend,” the warden said. “Gentlemen, this is Bird-man. As promising a recruit as we’ve ever had. Undefeated through all three rounds, and he even beat two men at once for his final fight. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” Falken said, cautiously.
“And then you went and threw it all away,” Archos said, shaking his head sadly. “How are my crops coming along by the way? I think it’s nearly time for another supply run. My corn gruel this morning hardly tasted fresh at all.”
A murmur of laughter spread through the gathered inmates.
“Whenever you need more food, you know how to get it,” Falken said.
“Indeed. So … what brings you sneaking back into my facility, Bird-man?” Archos asked.
“I was looking for a friend,” Falken said.
“A friend? And you didn’t feel like waiting until the morning, and maybe, knocking on the front gate?”
“I’m in a hurry,” Falken said.
Archos laughed. “Hear that, gentlemen? He’s in a hurry. On Oz.” Archos chuckled again. “Got a busy calendar, Bird-man?”
“I just want to talk to someone here.”
“Well, I’m afraid we don’t really allow social calls,” Archos said. “And certainly not if you forget to call ahead and make an appointment. But I’ll tell you what: I’m curious to see if years of farming have made you soft. Are you still a wolf, Bird-man? Or have you become a sheep?”
“I’m done fighting,” Falken said.
“That’s a shame,” Archos sighed. “Throw him out, gentlemen. Stun him for good measure, first. I’m going back to bed.” The warden turned on his heel.
“Wait!” Falken cried. Peshai said it didn’t matter what I did in here, he reminded himself. It’s all just a simulation. “If I fight, will you let me stay?”
“I’ll let you stay, and you can talk to whoever you’d like, for one day,” Archos said, turning back to face Falken.
One day. I better make it count.
“… but you’ll have to fight all three fights again,” Archos finished.
“I’ll fight three at once, right now,” Falken said.
“Three at once! Ho ho,” Archos wagged his finger at Falken. “Eager, aren’t we? Very well. But we need some light for our entertainment. You fight in the morning.” The warden yawned again. “Out of curiosity, which one of my men is so important that you had to come talk to them?”
“Weaver,” Falken said.
The smile disappeared from Archos’ face, and his eyes narrowed. “Weaver? Why?”
“He’s my friend. I think he
needs my help,” Falken said.
Archos studied Falken in silence for a moment. Then he turned and strode back toward his room.
“Put Bird-man in the pit,” he called over his shoulder.
*
Falken was already awake when the metal door to the pit swung open, creaking on its heavy hinges. He stood in the mid-morning light and faced the door, rolling his head to work the kinks out of his neck.
“Come on,” an inmate wielding a stun-glove told him, but Falken was already striding past him, headed up the stairs, a cold glare in his eyes.
The balcony was packed full of inmates lounging over the railing, jostling for the best view of the disk. When they saw him step out of a side door, they began pounding the railing rhythmically, chanting. Falken glanced around the gathered inmates, but he could see no sign of Weaver. On the far side of the balcony, however, he spied Cadellium and Auresh, watching him warily.
The two of you decided to join Archos’ crew? Falken thought. That doesn’t surprise me.
Cadellium crossed his arms and frowned at him, but Falken, stone-faced, ignored him completely.
His escort guided him to the gap in the railing, where he found the plank that led out to the disk. Three men stood waiting for him on the disk – while none were quite as large as Falken himself, all looked to be in excellent shape, and bore the hallmark scars that counted their numerous successful fights. Falken crossed the plank without hesitation, and stepped into the middle of the disk. He bounced on his feet, shrugging his shoulders to loosen them.
Archos stepped to the edge of the railing, and held a hand in the air for silence. “Gentlemen, I give you: the return of Bird-man! He once was a fighter, now a farmer … let’s hope he’s not a failure.” He grinned at Falken, whose attention was focused on his nearest opponent.
“Fight!” Archos cried.
Falken leapt forward. The man facing him swung a punch at his head, but Falken caught it easily. With surgical precision, he twisted the man’s arm, and felt the bone pop. The man shrieked in pain, but Falken was already leaning into a vicious right hook that landed on the man’s throat. He fell to his knees, choking. The spectators roared their approval.