Exiled to the Stars

by Zellmann, William

  Raymond shrugged. "They aren't. But there's something you must understand that you weren't told in training.

  "Governments come to expect that most people will obey laws, no matter how silly they may be. So, except for some hit or miss enforcement, they assume people will comply with the law.

  "And they're usually right. Most people want to stay out of trouble, and it's easier just to go along. But that government complacency can become blindness in some circumstances. Take the colonization program. You grab four thousand urban poor from a ghetto, and you tell them they are going to be locked up for five years with a thousand assorted criminals. That means that one fifth of the colonists are thugs, gangsters, and other assorted trash. Further, you tell them that they will be beyond the protection of EarthGov, and that they will not be coming back to Earth."

  Raymond shrugged again. "Ghetto dwellers are very familiar with criminals, and the effects of lawlessness. We've lived with them for years. Nearly all of us have families, and will do anything necessary to protect them. Naturally, our first thoughts turn to weapons.

  "Now, EarthGov marshals search all the baggage coming onto the stations, and confiscate any weapons. But when you have thousands of weapons in storage, and thousands of people willing to pay good money for weapons, people who won't be coming back, a good-sized black market inevitably arises. So, the guards and the flight attendants make very good money selling the confiscated weapons to other colonists on later ships."

  Captain Angelo frowned. "Are you trying to tell me that your militia has lethal weapons?"

  Raymond nodded. "I'm trying to tell you that there are probably hundreds of lethal weapons aboard. I heard in the Classification Center that I should save my EarthGov credits to buy weapons once we boarded.

  "Luckily, most of the people with weapons are inexperienced. They think a weapon is a magic wand – you wave it around and people do what you tell them. You and I know better. Unfortunately, many of the criminals know better, too."

  He sat forward. He was coming to his point. "Now, we love those batons you gave us. They're good, versatile weapons. But they have one shortcoming: they're strictly hand-to-hand. Since we knew many of the criminals would be armed with distance weapons, like lasers, blasters, needlers and such, I felt it necessary that our militia include snipers."

  The Captain jerked. "Snipers? On a ship? Are you insane?"

  Raymond held up a hand to restrain the Captain. "Please, Captain! I don't mean snipers in the military sense. It would be stupid and irresponsible to try to use long-range weapons aboard a ship. No, we call them snipers because that was the most descriptive term I could think of. We have two people who have been training with hand lasers, and one with a blaster. Their job is to hang back and protect our people by picking off any opponents with lasers or blasters. Our blaster man works up close, among the baton men, of course, and concentrates on needlers.

  "Now," he continued, "I'm telling you this because I must tell you that we will be happy to become the ship's security force, but only if our snipers are part of the team. They've been training with us, and all of our people find their presence very comforting."

  The Captain's face clouded, and Raymond hurried on. "Really, Captain, our people are no threat to the ship. You even know one of the snipers, Ron Creding."

  Captain Angelo's frown lightened slightly as he glanced at Ron. "Creding, eh? I should have guessed." He paused, and then shrugged. "Oh well, at least he's not trying to blow up the ship. All right, Messer Koh. You can have your snipers."

  That settled, the conversation moved to practicalities. Raymond's militia consisted of forty baton men and the three snipers. He was sure that at least thirty of them would volunteer to become ship security. Ron was certain Tara would volunteer, but he sighed with disappointment. He was going to have to adjust his schedule to accommodate both his classes and security duties, and since Tara was the only other sniper, it was obvious that they would be opposite each other on the schedule, and Ron was painfully aware that he would be seeing little of her for a while.

  Several of the surviving redsuits would also begin training as snipers, and the rest would receive refresher training with the side-handle batons. The batons were very popular with the redsuits now. A number of them were looking forward to being able to use them on the colonists they blamed for the deaths of their friends. Raymond was going to have to watch them carefully.

  Instead of the red shipsuits that identified the crew security detachment, the militia settled for a red armband sewn around the left arm of their issue shipsuits. They now wore their batons suspended from belts around their waists, and Ron and Tara could now wear their holstered lasers.

  With surprising speed, life returned to its normal, slow pace, at least for awhile. 29 of the Dorm 25 children had been adopted, once Cesar reminded the Council that none of them were getting any younger, and that they would need all of the young hands they could find to tame a planet. Otherwise, the welded hatch of Dorm 25 became the only reminder of the revolt.

  ******

  4 September 2206

  The comfortable sameness of ship life was again affected as the ship's long-range sensors began detecting their second possible home. The excitement was somewhat muted this time, but it was still palpable, and only grew as the sensor techs reported their results.

  "This one looks much better," the Captain reported to the Council. "Comparing our readings with those from Earth, the orbit seems stable and more or less normal, near the center of the star's liquid water belt. It appears to have several small moons, but we'll have to wait to see how that affects weather patterns."

  Of course, the Captain's excitement communicated itself to the crew and colonists, and each updated report was eagerly anticipated.

  Finally, the Captain addressed the Council. "I think this might be it. Atmospheric analysis shows the atmosphere to be slightly higher in oxygen content than Earth, but not enough to become a problem. The three moons will probably cause some, uh, interesting weather patterns, but they are small, and we will of course observe that before deciding whether to ground here. Gravity appears to be approximately 97% of Earth normal. I have already given orders to alter course to approach Planet 2."

  The announcement touched off wild celebrations in all the dorms, and if there was an edge of hysteria to the parties, well, that was only to be expected. After all, assignment to a colony ship was a likely death sentence. No one on Earth really knew how common Earth-type planets were in the universe, and the information available was very sketchy. If they were unable to find a suitable planet, they would either have to ground on a "marginally habitable" one and struggle to survive, or sail on through hyperspace in a futile search until their fuel or supplies ran out. If this planet were truly better than "marginally habitable," they would have a survivable environment to return to, even if the Captain found a reason to continue to their last target.

  Many beer allotments were drunk up, and many entrepreneurs were finally able to empty their stores of beer bulbs, selling them back to those from whom they had bought them.

  The party in New Home Village was as big as or bigger than any of the others. Smiling broadly, Raymond Koh emptied his storehouse of beer, selling it below its market value in celebration. Even Cesar and Vlad Renko, now nearly inseparable, were sipping cautiously at the amber liquid as they talked quietly, though both wore broad smiles.

  Neither Ron nor Tara usually drank, but several bulbs of beer had both of them becoming tipsy.

  Suddenly Ron grabbed Tara and pulled her into his arms. She began to struggle, but after a moment relaxed and raised her arms around his neck. His lips approached hers, and hers rose to meet them. The kiss they shared was more intoxicating than the beer.

  After an endless, timeless moment, they separated. Both were red-faced with excitement. Suddenly Tara swallowed and stepped back, tears welling in her eyes.

  Her hands rose to cover her face. "Oh!" she cried. "I'm sorry!" She turned to fle
e, but this time Ron grabbed her arm.

  "No!" he said, shaking his head. "Not this time. This time we talk about why you keep running from me, and why you're 'sorry'!" He pulled the weeping woman down to a seat, while looking around. The party was in full swing. No one was paying them any attention.

  She tugged on her arm, but when Ron refused to release it, she relaxed, and a shade of her old, bitter self rose in her face. "Why talk?" she said sarcastically, "You know what I am…was," she amended.

  Ron nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I know what you are. You're a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman who can plow a field, butcher a hog, shoot a gun or laser, and care for an injured child. You're even learning to cook. You're also going to be one of the most important people in the colony once we ground." He shrugged as he continued, "And I know what you were. So what? I told you on the day we met that I judged people by who they are, not what they had to do to survive."

  The hardness in her face faded. "You meant that!" She exclaimed. "You really don't care!" Tears welled again, but this time they were happy ones.

  He shook his head. "Of course not. You had some bad years, some desperate ones. So did I. I told you I was raised in South 'Cago, in a ghetto every bit as bad as Nawlins or Manila. You think I didn't see the horror confronting the girls? A lucky few were able to test out and escape completely. But if they couldn't escape, or couldn't find a man to take care of them, or one of those nasty, sad girl gangs to join, the predators were always there, sometimes seducing, sometimes kidnapping, always brutalizing them into crime or prostitution.

  "I tested out and managed to escape to another world, but I never forgot where I came from." He looked around. "I wish there was a quiet, private place for me to show you what I think!"

  He caught sight of Raymond Koh. "Wait here," he said. "I'll be right back!"

  Yes, he learned, Raymond's storeroom was empty now. Raymond glanced around, saw Tara waiting anxiously. With a broad grin, he slapped the storeroom key into Ron's hand. "Go," he said. "Enjoy. Love."

  They did.

  ******

  The course change added two more months to the voyage, but no one minded. Nearly all the news was good.

  The earlier atmospheric sensor readings were confirmed. The air was breathable. The presence of liquid water was established. By the time they entered orbit, they were pretty certain they could live here.

  But that didn't mean they hurried to ground. The Captain had warned them that they would be in orbit for at least two months, and possibly more, while they studied conditions on the surface and searched for the best landing spot. Since they had no landing boats to make direct observations, they would have to make very careful orbital studies.

  Life returned somewhat to normal, though a "normal" tinged with impatience. Ron and the rest of the teachers suddenly found themselves flooded with requests to study practical skills: well digging and drilling, logging, house building, animal care, machinery repair, and dozens of other critical skills.

  At last Ron was able to show Cesar that a lack of interest in academic studies did not mean a person was lazy, or ignorant. Most of those Cesar had spent more than a year calling "lazy ones" had been some of the first to seek out practical training. Cesar reluctantly admitted Ron's point was valid, but as far as he could tell, no apologies were forthcoming.

  Tara was suddenly a celebrity. With Cesar repeatedly bragging about her capabilities, she found herself the go-to "expert" for any question remotely connected to farm life. Women who had studiously ignored her and shut her out for more than a year now suddenly sought her out instead, with a seemingly endless litany of questions. Which was really better for a baby, cow's milk, or mother's milk? How did one prepare real eggs? How did one get a chicken to produce them? Few had ever been able to even see real meat. Was it much different from synthasteak? Was it much harder to prepare? Did it really bleed when cut?

  And not only the women were seeking her out. The men had endless questions garnered from their VR lessons. Was it really that easy to drive a tractor? Why were they having such a hard time plowing a straight furrow in VR? Was it really easy to build a still to produce alcohol fuel? Was butchering a hog really that bloody, messy and disgusting? Hunting and shooting was fun, but how did she deal with walking up to the animal's body and realizing that she had just killed something?

  Some of the questions amused her, some amazed her, but she always managed to keep a straight face and give a serious answer. Many times, she referred the asker to Ron for VR instruction. Some reportedly threw up, and others actually fainted when confronted with the facts of farm life in virtual reality.

  When Ron reported this, she just nodded. "When I was a kid, Daddy let me raise a lamb by hand. Despite Daddy's warnings, I named her 'Ethel' and let myself start to love that lamb. But it wasn't a county fair grade lamb, and we didn't raise sheep, and soon the time came for Daddy to butcher her. Of course, he knew how I felt about her, so one day while I was at school, he took Ethel to town and sold her. I was furious with him, of course. I knew she'd be butchered. I didn't talk to him for a week. And I stopped eating lamb and mutton for months. I got over it. They will, too."

  Cesar and the rest of the Council found themselves consulting the computer, as well, looking at suggested colony layouts (drawn by Earthmen on Earth. How would they know?) And evaluating possible colony sites as the planet rotated beneath them. Council meetings became contentious and even raucous on occasion as delegates praised or criticized possible sites.

  ******

  "… octor James!" Susan James struggled to consciousness. The woman who had awakened her looked nervous and worried. "Please come, Doctor," the woman pleaded. "You have a visitor. And he's crew!"

  The man who waited for her was short and dark, and in his late twenties, Susan judged. She thought he was remarkably handsome. Now, though, he looked nervous and impatient.

  His white shipsuit identified him as a technician or scientist, and he was accompanied by an armed redsuit. "Doctor James?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Ramasingh, the ship's Biologist. I wonder if I might talk with you." He looked around the dorm. "Is there somewhere we might talk?"

  Susan nodded. "Of course, Dr. Ramasingh. We'll go into the mess room."

  The mess room was crowded, as usual, but Dr. Ramasingh's white shipsuit and the red one of his bodyguard ensured they could find a hastily unoccupied corner.

  "Doctor James," the white-clad man began. Susan interrupted him. "Call me Susan, please."

  He nodded. "Thank you, Susan. Please call me Raj." His smile was nervous as he continued, "As I mentioned, I am the Ship's Biologist. However, I am painfully aware that four years ago I, too, was a Drone. In other words, Susan, I'm actually the equivalent of a newly-minted lab assistant." He shrugged. "Your own reputation as one of Earth's foremost molecular biologists, of course, precedes you.

  "One of the biggest shortcomings of the colonization program is that no one in the crew actually has any hands-on experience. We're all selected from Drones and rushed through a training and testing curriculum. I, for instance. I do, in fact hold a PhD from the University of Canberra. But I've never even been to Australia. I was crammed with every professional course requirement for twelve hours a day, six days a week. But I had no courses that were not directly related to the ship and my duties aboard it. The same is true of every crewman aboard, including the Captain. Lots of book, lab and VR learning, but little or no real hands-on experience, and nothing nonprofessional."

  He shrugged. "I have the Captain's permission to ask if you would consider temporarily joining the crew, and assuming control of the Biology lab. I must retain the title of Ship's Biologist and the position of department head, but you would have virtually a free hand in the lab. We will have much to do when the samples begin coming in, and for years in the future. We're already busy analyzing the sensor data. Your hands-on experience will be invaluable in making certain we don't miss something that could be a threat to the colony

 
"I'm authorized to offer you quarters on the crew deck; not a private cabin, but one with only one roommate instead of 200. Essentially, I'm offering you crew status. Temporary, I'm afraid." He smiled. "Of course, we're all temporary. Once we ground, we're all colonists together.

  Susan was excited. To actually get back into a bio lab! The crew status might be temporary, but the colony was going to need a bio lab even after grounding! She began to enthusiastically accept, but then paused.

  She had responsibilities here. She was one of only four teachers. And she owed Ron, Cesar, and the dorm a lot. And what about Vlad? They were developing a relationship that might very well lead to something.

  "Raj," she finally said slowly. "There's nothing I would like better than to get back into a bio lab. But I have responsibilities here. May I consider your offer for a day or so? I will need to consult some others." Suddenly a wide grin flared in the attractive face. "You have no idea how much I would love to just say, 'hell yes, let's go!' But I owe people here."

  Raj answered her smile with one of his own. "Of course, Susan. I quite understand. I'm told the Captain considers New Hope Village the backbone of the colony." He gave her a comm code. "I will be awaiting your call." He rose and bowed slightly, and then he and the redsuit strode from the mess deck.

  Vlad was talking with Cesar when she approached them. She told them of her visitor, and explained his offer, simply and without embellishment.

  Cesar simply nodded. "You must go, of course," he said as Vlad nodded. "You will be missed." He glanced at Vlad, who was torn between beaming with pride in her and distress at her departure. A smile flared on the old man's face. "By some more than others," he continued.

  She looked worried. "But…my classes!…Ron…"

  Cesar waved away her concerns. "I'll talk to Ron. We will have no trouble getting another teacher. Can you believe it? We actually have a waiting list of people wishing to join our village!" He shook his head sadly. "No, there is no doubt that you can contribute much more to the colony in the bio lab than you can in our training room."