But Ron suppressed his irritation, and produced a friendly smile. "Do you speak English?" he asked the man politely.
The man chuckled. "That and a smattering of Spanish is all I do speak," he replied. He put out a thin, chocolate-brown hand. "I'm Vladimir Renko."
Ron frowned. "Not Doctor Vladimir Renko, the roboticist!" Renko nodded, and Ron's frown relaxed into a smile as he continued, "I've heard a lot about you. I'm honored to meet you, sire." He shook the proffered hand enthusiastically.
Renko's eyebrows lifted. "Are you a roboticist?"
Ron shook his head. "Sorry, no. Just a high school science teacher. But everyone's heard of you."
Renko smiled gently. "Not everyone. The uniformed thugs that grabbed me for 'antisocial behavior' didn't seem impressed."
Ron grinned. "Is that all? They grabbed me for 'subversive indoctrination'.”
"Ah," Renko said, "A true revolutionary! And with what radical ideas were you attempting to corrupt our youth?"
"I dared advocate mandatory birth control based on ability to support the offspring."
Renko's polite smile had turned warm as he shook his head. "Attacking the very foundation of civilization: The masses' freedom to procreate without limit. Obviously, a racist, elitist class warrior bent on further subjugating the poor! So they permitted you to 'volunteer' for colonization, thus keeping the Earth safe for the billions of illiterates we have created."
Ron hung his head in pretended shame, struggling to suppress a grin. "Yes. I tried to repent my subversive behavior, but breaking into giggles in the middle of the recitation rather ruined the effect."
The warm smile flared into a gleaming white grin in the dark face. "I can imagine. The judge at my hearing decided that working on robots, machines designed to steal jobs from hard-working humans, was obviously prejudicial to the social order and my removal from society the only possible solution."
Ron started to reply, but was interrupted by the speakers mounted around the walls of the auditorium. "Quiet!" they roared, and the din subsided somewhat.
After a few moments, the voice returned, even louder. "SILENCE! In ten seconds, the guards will begin stunning anyone in the audience that is still talking! …9…8…7…6…5…4…3…"
By the time the voice reached "3," the auditorium was deathly silent, except for an occasional cough or sneeze.
Stunners did no physiological damage. But after about an hour of unconsciousness, the victim awakened to a roaring headache and general lack of coordination that lasted for several more hours. Obviously, no one here was willing to risk it, especially since it seemed some information might be forthcoming, and everyone wanted to hear it.
A man drifted out to hover over the small stage at the front of the auditorium. From this distance, that was all that Ron could tell about the tiny figure. In English, the official language of EarthGov, the man simply began speaking. His voice carried through the speakers.
"As you have learned, the earbuds are universal translators. Do not lose them. Supplies of spares are limited even here, and aboard ship, spares will be very rare.
"I am the Administrator of the Colony Program for the L-4 station," he continued. "To answer your first question: No, I cannot prevent your shipping out, nor would I if I could. Earth is in the midst of a population emergency, and regardless of your feelings about your personal situation, EarthGov must take emergency measures.
"You are colonists on Ship 7N-364. The ship will depart in approximately two 'days.' To answer the second question asked at this point, No, there are no "family accommodations" or "married quarters" aboard. There simply isn't room. You will be living in unsegregated dormitories for at least a year, and probably three to five years.
"The back side of the card you have been given contains four numbers. The top number is the deck on which you will be housed. The second number is the compartment, or dormitory, on that deck, and the third number is the bunk number you will occupy. The bottom number, the large one above the bar code, is your identification number, starting now. Place the card, with the bar code down, over the sensor pad on the arm of your seat. Then remove the card, and press your right thumb over the sensor pad. If you do not, the ship will not recognize you, and you will be unable to obtain food or any other automated services from the ship." There was a rumble as those in the audience followed the instructions. While that was occurring, the man continued, "Learn that number. While you are on the ship, that number and your fingerprint will be recognized by the ship's computer, which will provide your allotted supplies and services based on it. We hope that this system will prevent attempts to steal your allotted share of the ship's resources.
"To answer the third question, No, we don't care whether you swap bunks to be near or away from someone else. EarthGov, and the crew, simply do not care whether you change bunks, or dorms, or decks. That's your problem.
"Next, the crew," the man continued. "Aboard ship, the crew is the life-and-death authority, and you will obey any order you are given by a crewmember. The Captain does have the authority to execute a colonist, if necessary.
"Yes, we are aware that once you leave the Sol system, EarthGov has no power to enforce its will, and some of you fools are already plotting to try to take over the ship.
"Well, understand this: The crew has had years of training in running and maintaining the ship. Try to stage a coup, and you're liable to kill everyone aboard. One of the systems they operate and maintain is life support. Threaten the crew in an attempt to become a little dictator, and you may very well wake up one night to find that everyone in your dorm is trying to breathe vacuum. That doesn't work, by the way.
"The crew are also the people who will either land or crash your ship. So, you'd better respect the crew and obey their orders.
"Since you've already had a week-long indoctrination on Earth, that's really all the briefing you need, but I will add this: Once you leave this station, there will be no guards with stunners. Once you leave the Sol system, there will be no EarthGov ships. You will be on your own, probably for years, and a large percentage of you are criminals or troublemakers. Those fools I mentioned won't believe what I say, and will still plot to take over the ship. It will be your responsibility to stop them from killing you all. EarthGov has given you everything you need to establish a thriving colony, assuming you are lucky enough to find an Earthlike planet, but you are the ones who will determine whether you arrive there alive.
"For those of you that can read English, each dorm has a manual that explains the ship's facilities and equipment. The ship's library computer also contains a copy, and can read it to you verbally if necessary. In fact, the computer contains a significant portion of all mankind's knowledge to this point. Ship's computers are larger and more sophisticated than those found in Earth's largest libraries. Respect it, and use it!
"Now, this was part of the week's training you received, but I know many of you weren't listening, so I'll repeat it. The dorms and bunks were designed for use under boost, when there is spin on the ship to simulate gravity. So, when you get to your dorm, you will find that the bunks are mounted to what are now the walls. Under spin, those walls will become the floor and ceiling, and your bunks will appear normal.
"However, you will not be leaving for two days, and in answer to the question of 'where do I sleep,' I reply, 'anywhere you wish.' You are in free-fall. You will find that all you need do is tether yourself to your bunk's frame to keep from drifting in your sleep, and assume any position you desire in mid-air. You will find tethers and thin blankets attached to your assigned bunk.
"Finally, under your seat you will find a box containing the personal supplies you will need aboard the ship, including shipsuits and hygiene articles. Guard it well. We will not replace it if it is stolen. You will be issued two new shipsuits every six months, and other items will be issued on a separate schedule.
"Other than that, all I can say is 'Good Luck. And may your Gods be with you. You are mankind's hop
e if we are unable to overcome the population problem here on Earth.
"Now," he said in a brisker tone, "You will have noticed that seats in the auditorium are divided into groups of 200. When a guard instructs you, you will rise and follow the Flight Attendants to your dormitory. Each section has been assigned to the same dormitory."
The man simply turned and swam away from the stage without another word.
It must have taken hours to empty the huge auditorium. It was more than an hour before the guards and attendants came for Ron's group. Ron and Renko ("call me 'Vlad'") had plenty of time to get acquainted and to examine the contents of the boxes they had been given.
The boxes contained clothing, vacuum-packed into a small mass, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a bar of soap, a pair of the thin rubber sandals still called "flip-flops," a combination lock for their small personal locker, and a list of each individual's allotment of the ship's supplies. For instance, ice cream would be available once per week per person, and the beer ration was limited to no more than six per week, whether used all at once or once per day.
Ron noticed that very few of the people in his dorm were Asian, and those few were obviously Japanese, Chinese, or Korean. So he realized that they, like him, must be "undies"; those considered "undesirables" by EarthGov. The term "undesirables" covered a vast range. Ivory-tower political thinkers were a serious problem for EarthGov; they were the very people most needed to preserve civilization, but also those whose intelligence, imagination, and education constituted the greatest threat. And there were those like Ron who were dissatisfied with life on United Earth and would have volunteered had the program been voluntary and the colonists properly selected. Then there were the ever-present revolutionaries of the right and/or left, always plotting to gain power over their compatriots, and, of course, criminals of all types gathered from jails and prisons: simple drunks, thieves, thugs, gang bosses, and even murderers, though the EarthGov tried to exclude those. Ron considered the criminals the most immediate threat. They were undisciplined, selfish, and vicious. He and Vlad agreed that their first job would be to identify those in their dorm who were criminals.
But Ron expected plenty of help with that. "I'm from 'Cago-San Lou," he told Renko. "I grew up around these people. As soon as we reach the dorm and the guards leave, I think they will start what I used to call the 'barnyard dance'. Everyone will be fighting to establish their place in the 'pecking order,' the order of dominance. Don’t be surprised if there are more than a few deaths and maimings. It may take a few weeks, but a dorm leader will emerge, and he'll struggle with the other dorm leaders. Finally, unless we're very lucky, a criminal 'boss of bosses' will appear. That's when the really nasty stuff will begin. If you have any valuables in your personal bag, find a place to hide them, preferably not in the dorm. Soon enough the thugs will be coming around to steal anything that might have value."
Each dorm accommodated two hundred people, the same number as the shuttle had carried. One end of the dorm contained the hatch leading to the main corridor. The other had another hatch, this one leading to a communal dining room, or "messroom," seating an entire dorm, and designed to be shared with a neighboring dorm.
Vlad had the bunk "above" Ron's, apparently by virtue of being seated next to him in the auditorium. The bunks were three high. Ron had been given a middle bunk, and Vlad an upper. Ron started to swap bunks with the older man, but decided to hold off until he was sure no one would take it from the older man, whose thin frame and small potbelly told Ron he was a man of thought, not of action.
At one end of each bunk was a small locker, a cube about half a meter in size. The door was equipped only with two loops through which the combination lock in their box could be secured to protect the contents.
Ron and Vlad were arranging their meager belonging in their lockers when the occupant of the third bunk in the stack arrived. He was a small, thin man with a furtive manner, whose eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings.
"Name's Manny," he said, shaking hands in a desultory manner. His eyes ran up and down their figures, evaluating and categorizing. "I figure you guys are straights. Either of ya got any EarthGov credits?"
"Some," Vlad replied with an amused expression, "Why?"
Manny shrugged. "'Cause they're gonna be toilet paper aboard ship. Worthless. But for the next few days, maybe even a week, they'll be gold. The guards and attendants aren't leaving. To them, the credits are gold. And some of the Drones won't figure it out right away. For a few days, they'll think credits're still money. As long as we're here, I can do some tradin', get set up. For instance, who's got the top bunk?"
"I do," replied Vlad, clearly amused by their entrepreneurial companion.
Manny nodded. "Okay. Tell ya what. I'll swap ya for twenty credits or two beers."
Vlad opened his mouth to reply but Ron interrupted. "It's not worth more than ten, Vlad, and you should hold onto your beer ration. I have a feeling it's going to be good trading material."
Manny's grin was feral. "Yer right about that. Fifteen credits."
Ron shook his head. "Ten."
Manny's feral grin faded slightly. "You're a tough one. All right, ten credits."
Ron nodded and turned to Vlad. "Take it. It's well worth it. Don't forget, we'll be here for a long time."
Vlad pulled out his wallet and pulled a bill from a thick sheaf of them. Manny's eyes widened. "Damn, Doc," he said in a scandalized tone, "You gotta get rid of that stuff! In a week it'll be waste paper!"
"He's right, Vlad," Ron put in. "We need to talk. Manny, could we have a few moments?"
Manny gave him a conspiratorial wink before he said, "Sure, Ron. I'll be around." He sauntered off.
Ron whirled back to face Vlad. He sighed. "All right, Vlad, I'm going to have to presume on very short acquaintance and ask you to trust me. We have a couple of problems and an opportunity, here."
Vlad frowned and his expression turned to suspicion. "I don't know what you mean," he said.
Ron nodded. "I know you don't, and that's a big part of the problem. First, there's the fact that Manny now knows you have several thousand credits in your wallet."
Vlad's frown deepened. "You think he'll try to steal it?"
Von shook his head. "No, Manny isn't muscle, or a dip. But he'll certainly be capable of selling the information to someone who is. Manny's a trader, a dealer. He'll deal anything of value, and information can be of great value to the right person. If he's good, and I suspect he is, he'll probably be very successful, even on a colony world.
"Second, though, is the fact that Manny's right. In a week or so, all those credits turn to wastepaper. If you're going to benefit from having them, you have to do something with them now."
"And I suppose you have an idea," Vlad replied in an ironic tone.
Ron smiled. "You're finally catching on. If you're going to survive, you'll need to develop a healthy cynicism and suspicion. But yes, I do have some ideas, or rather suggestions.
"You need to get rid of that money while it still has value, but we're not exactly in a position to run down to the shopping center or order on the EarthNet. So, as I said, I'm going to ask you to trust me. Essentially, I want to hire Manny to get us some things we're likely to need. Or, if you prefer, get you things you're likely to need.
Vlad shrugged. "Oh, I have no objection to sharing. I confess, I've never had a talent for handling money. But I do trust you, young man. Certainly I trust you enough to give you a wad of what is soon to be wastepaper." He opened his wallet, and handed the entire sheaf of bills to Ron. "But I admit I'm rather surprised that you trust Manny."
Ron barked a laugh. "Trust him? Well, I suppose you could call it that. Manny is totally amoral, but he will have a rather twisted sense of 'honor'. For instance, Manny would sell the information that you have credits for two beers. But if he made a deal with you to keep quiet about it, it would take torture to get the information out of him. I know his type. They're not honest by any measur
e, but they won't 'bust a deal'.
"Okay," he continued, "You have about nine thousand here, and I have another two thousand. We should hold back a thousand for other things, but ten thousand should get us a lot of things we'll need. Things EarthGov wouldn't let us bring.
"So, we need to put together a 'wish list' of things we'd like to have. Be imaginative. Don't forget, the only things we'll have available are what we take with us. Even if there's something you think you might want in a few years, put it on the list. Keep in mind, though, that we'll have to find places to hide anything we buy."
They talked for a few more minutes before Ron called Manny back. "Did you tell anyone about Vlad's credits?" he asked.
Manny gave him a sharp look before replying. "Naw. I din't know th' right customers yet."
Ron nodded. "Good," he said. "Manny, we want to offer you a deal. We want you to take our credits, and use them to get us some things while you still can. Most of them will have to come from the guards or attendants. Anything you have left is yours."
Manny's eyes gleamed with avarice. "What if I can't get everything you want?"
Ron shrugged. "Then we negotiate your cut."
"Let's see the list."
Manny scrutinized the list Ron gave him. "Hmm. Stunner's probably no problem, but a blaster or laser might be. Fighting knives and practice knives, okay. Hush field generator. They're hard to come by and expensive, but I'll try. The engineer's wrist computers and most of this other stuff should be easy, if you got the credits. How much you got?"
Ron shrugged. "Ten thousand credits, cash"
Manny frowned, lost in thought as he calculated the probable cost of the objects on the list. Finally, he nodded and looked up. "I'll try. What're your priorities?"
Ron ticked them off on his fingers. "Highest priority is weapons. I've got a feeling we're going to need them badly, either on board or on a colony world. Knives and practice knives first, then the stunners and the stun grenades. Blaster or laser next, at least one, preferably two. Then the hush field generator, and then the other stuff in no particular order."
Exiled to the Stars Page 2