“We should have made a stand for our rights,” he hissed. “We should have prepared ourselves to fight. We should have armed ourselves and stood tall, making it clear that we were prepared to fight! And yet, the Elders wouldn't let us prepare for war. We had to just sit there and endure the hostility, endure the threats, endure the knowledge that one day we would be wiped from the planet. And it happened! We were lucky they didn't decide to merely kill us all.
“Never again.
“I say to you, never again.
“We will soon be dumped on a whole new world,” he warned. “And when that happens, we have to be ready to make it clear that we are going to fight for our rights.”
He paused, once again. Officially, they hadn't been told their destination, but it hadn't been hard to find a spacer willing to take a bribe. Arthur’s Seat ... a world embedded in Forsaker hearts. And a world with a population that might - just - remember its roots. And, perhaps most importantly of all, a peaceful world. Fighting on Tarsus might have been suicidal, giving the government all the excuse it needed to exterminate the Forsakers, but fighting on Arthur’s Seat ...
And his friends were ready to fight. They had been humiliated; worse, their families had been humiliated. Wives and mothers had been molested, unmarried girls had been urged to abandon their families and stay on Tarsus. Oh, it had been easy to keep the pot boiling, to keep reminding his brethren of the humiliation they’d suffered. The only problem had been in keeping the pot from boiling over before it was time.
“I have obtained weapons,” he said, into the silence. “We will spend the next two days learning to use them. And we will be ready when the time comes to fight.”
He turned and picked up one of the boxes he’d placed on the table, opening it up to reveal the assault weapon within. A low hum of admiration and fear echoed through the room for a long chilling moment. It was rare, almost unknown, for civilians on Tarsus to own weapons, certainly not assault rifles. Joel had planned to find contacts amongst the criminal underworld, hoping to purchase weapons, but his father had scorched that plan. It would give the government all the excuse they needed to take decisive steps, he’d argued. He hadn't realised that the government didn't need an excuse.
“This is power,” Joel said, bluntly. “And this” - he opened up another box to reveal the ammunition - “is the key to making it work.”
He removed the weapon from the box, holding it in the air. “This is the last resort,” he said, grimly. “But, when the time comes, we will use them.”
There was a long chilling pause. “Any questions?”
John looked as if he wanted to say something, but held his tongue. Joel was tempted to call him out, to find out what he’d wanted to ask, yet it would have been pointless. John wasn't the most popular man in the compartment, even if he was Joel’s stepbrother. And John being beaten halfway to death would have been hard to explain. God alone knew what would happen if the Elders reacted badly.
It was a gamble, Joel admitted. They wouldn't use the rifles, not at first. They’d use baseball bats and other improvised weapons, devices that could be used to fight without posing a serious threat. Arthur’s Seat could not be goaded into taking strong action until it was too late. And yet ... he had no illusions. A war against the entire planet would end badly. But at least they’d go out fighting.
We cannot give up what we are, he thought, as he opened the hatch. The Outsider was unpleasant - Joel had caught him eying some of the girls, even in their shapeless dresses - but useful. And if we have to make use of Outsider technology to preserve ourselves, then that is what we shall do.
“This is a friend,” he said, simply. “He’s here to help.”
The Outsider - damn him - had promised him that the weapons were easy to use. And he was right, going through the motions time and time again until Joel and his loyalists could use the weapons without hesitation. They hadn't actually fired a shot, unfortunately - there was no way to hide the noise - but he thought he could handle a weapon if he had to fight. And, by the time the meeting finally came to an end, so could his allies.
“We’ll be meeting again tomorrow,” he said, after a final speech. “You know what you have to do.”
The Elders would not be amused, he thought, as his loyalists slipped back into the corridors and vanished. Some of them would be horrified, either at Joel’s preparations to fight or his embrace of the demon technology; others, more perceptively, would see it as a challenge to their power. And they would be right. He bore them no ill will, but they were old and feeble and utterly unprepared for the changes buffeting the Empire. Some of the old geezers were even still talking about appealing to Earth!
“John,” he said, when the room was clear. He didn't know why his unwanted stepbrother had stayed, but it hardly mattered. “Where is Hannah?”
John’s face flickered. “I think she’s with mother,” he said, flatly. Joel was almost sure it was a lie. “They were sewing.”
“Oh,” Joel said. “And where was she before, seeing she wasn't with her mother?”
A wave of emotions washed over John’s face, coming and going too quickly for Joel to identify them. Not, he supposed, that it mattered. John was weak, ineffectual ... really, what could one make of a brother who allowed his sister to walk all over him? Part of him was tempted to admit that Hannah certainly had more life about her than two or three other girls her age put together, but it wasn't right. A young woman her age should be married - she would be married, once the date was set. And her brother had given up the right to object.
“Answer the question,” he said, coolly. He might not be married yet, but he still had certain rights. “Where was she?”
John blinked, then made the visible decision to lie. “In the female quarters.”
Joel lunged forward, allowing his anger to show. “No, she wasn't,” he said, as John scuttled backwards. “Where was she?”
It was a bluff - even Joel wouldn't have dared enter the female quarters, not when trying would have gotten him shunned by the entire community - but it worked.
“Exploring the ship,” John said, reluctantly.
“You should make sure she doesn't leave the hold,” Joel said. “She’s your sister. Who knows what could happen to her.”
John flushed. “She’s safe.”
“No, she isn't,” Joel said. A starship wasn't safe and both of them knew it. “You have to keep her safe.”
John looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't quite have the nerve. Joel wondered, absently, why John hadn't simply left, back when he’d had the chance. He wasn't quite as aggressive as some of the other Forsakers. He’d even done his best to actually earn money, even if it had meant working in an Outsider office. Joel wasn't sure what John had done to earn money, but he had. And yet, he'd come back to the estate every night and been rounded up with the rest of his family.
He probably just didn't want to leave his sister, he thought, amused. There was no doubt that John loved his sister, even though he wasn't doing right by her. And his mother.
“When I marry her, she will be taught the error of her ways,” Joel added. His stepmother had insisted that Konrad find Hannah a husband, nagging Joel’s father until he’d agreed. “A young woman should not be so defiant.”
“She isn’t defiant,” John protested, weakly.
“She shouldn't have left her mother’s side,” Joel pointed out, sweetly. It was easy to make John aware of his own failings, failings he didn't seem interested in addressing. “Who knows what could happen to a young girl like that?”
He shrugged. Tormenting John was fun, but it grew old fast. John didn't seem capable of resisting, not even in defence of his sister. It was pathetic. Joel would have gone through hell to protect his sister, if he’d had a sister. His mother had died in childbirth, her infant son stillborn. Perhaps she would have survived, if she’d had proper medical care. But no one on Tarsus wanted to help a Forsaker ...
“Go back to father
,” he ordered. His father would have lectured Hannah until her ears were bleeding - perhaps literally - but he hadn't had a go at John yet. Joel would keep his opinions to himself, at least until they were actually married. Hannah would learn to behave herself after that, or else. “I’m sure he’s waiting to speak to you.”
“I’m sure,” John said. He paused. “Why did they sell you the weapons?”
He paused, again. “And how did you pay for them?”
“Outsiders are always interested in profit,” Joel reminded him. They’d been told that right from birth. Outsiders put profit ahead of everything else, from common sense to long-term thinking. An Outsider would sell his son, his daughter ... or his coat, even if the weather was growing cold. “It was easy enough to make a friend.”
He shrugged. He didn't care why someone would choose to sell fifty assault rifles and several thousand rounds of ammunition. It wasn't as if they could take the freighter and sail off into the sunset. He would be the first to admit he didn't know how to fly the giant starship, even if they could. All that mattered was that they had the weapons they needed to make a stand, if their rights were disrespected again. Who cared? There was little to be gained from looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“But you had money,” John pressed. “How did you ...?”
Joel moved forward with stunning speed, shoving John back against the bulkhead. “Don’t ask such questions,” he snarled. John’s face paled. “It’s none of your business!”
He stepped back, letting go of his stepbrother. “Go back to father,” he hissed. John would obey. He was too much of a coward to do anything else. “And keep your damn mouth shut!”
John turned and practically fled the compartment. Joel watched him go, snorting in disgust at such craven cowardice. Hannah was braver than her brother, even though she was a young woman. Maybe she’d inherited their father’s masculinity even as she’d inherited their mother’s body. Joel pitied John’s future wife and children. Without a strong hand to guide them and keep them in line, they’d Fall for sure.
I might wind up having to take them in, he thought. If John is unable to do it ...
He returned the rifles to their boxes, then sealed and locked the crates. No one should touch them, but he knew better than to take chances. There was very little private property amongst the Forsakers. Almost everything, save for a handful of small possessions, was communal property. He took one final sweep around the compartment, just to be sure, and then hurried through the hatch. The Elders would probably notice if he wasn't on duty with the other Stewards as the day drew to a close.
Although no one would notice that the day is over, he thought, sourly. There was nothing natural about the giant starship. The lights burned constantly, day or night. Joel had a feeling the crew refused to dim them just to be unpleasant. We don’t even know what time it is on our new world.
He stopped as he turned the corner and saw a young couple kissing. Mary - a distant relative of his - was kissing a starship crewman. She broke off as she saw him, her face flushing bright red. Joel stepped forward, bunching his fists and caught her arm. The crewman had no time to object before Joel had dragged her into the hold and sealed the hatch behind him.
“You utter idiot,” he snapped, as he marched her over to her parents. “Do you know what could have happened to you?”
He pushed Mary into her father’s arms, then gave a brief explanation before turning to find the other Stewards. Mary would probably be shunned for the next few days, once word got round. Kissing an Outsider ... it was dangerous, very dangerous. Mary couldn't have married him without leaving the community, cutting herself away from her entire life. And if the Outsider had refused to marry her ...
Behind him, Mary’s mother started screaming her outrage. A slap echoed on the air. He didn't look back.
She could have fallen pregnant, he thought, morbidly. It had happened before. Young girls were taught almost nothing about their bodies until it was far too late. Hell, Joel himself was still a little fuzzy on the details. Or worse.
He shook his head as he stepped into the outer compartment. Tarsus had been dangerous as well as unwelcoming. There had been too many temptations for men and women, threatening to seduce them from the path. Things would be different, he promised himself, on Arthur’s Seat. He’d make them different. Lands of their own, farms ... a place where they could grow, away from the demon technology. The Forsakers would become what they were meant to be, rather than parasites on Outsiders ...
... And if a few Outsiders got hurt ... well, he didn't care. But then, they hadn't cared either.
Chapter Five
The first expansion phase gave birth to a number of cultures that considered themselves to be space-based, first and foremost. Like the modern-day RockRats, they tended to distance themselves from the ‘groundhogs’ and move further away as launch systems improved and governments extended their control over outer space.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.
Constable Mike Whitehead was in the shower when the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” his wife called, as he stuck his head out of the bathroom. “It’s probably Suzie.”
Mike rolled his eyes as he stepped back into the shower. Suzie and Jane, his wife, had been plotting something over the last few weeks, probably something to do with his birthday. He wasn't too worried about it. His wife had a mischievous sense of humour, which led to the occasional practical joke, but she wasn't particularly cruel. He’d fallen in love with her sense of humour, years ago. She still made him laugh.
Which is something you need on the job, he thought. Something to keep you from losing your humanity.
He scowled at the thought as he turned off the water and reached for the towel. Police officers on Arthur’s Seat had an easier time of it than officers on Earth, if the entertainment flicks were to be believed, but it was still a taxing job. He'd seen more accidents and crimes than he cared to think about - and, even if they were small fry compared to problems on Earth, they still took a toll on innocent civilians caught in the middle. He wouldn't have worked on Earth for anything, even enough money to buy his own planet. The horror stories he’d heard, filtering through the police grapevine, made him wonder why anyone would want to live and work on Earth. Humanity’s homeworld seemed trapped in a permanent nightmare.
Was trapped, he reminded himself. Earth was gone. The news had shocked Arthur’s Seat, although very few people had ever set foot on Earth. Earth has been destroyed.
There was a tap on the door. “Mike, that was the office,” Jane said, sharply. She sounded alarmed. “They want you there now.”
Mike glanced at the clock, alarmed. Was he late? No, he still had two hours before his shift was due to start. An emergency? He hadn't heard anything, but emergencies rarely announced themselves in advance. Cursing under his breath, he finished drying himself and hurried out of the bathroom. His blue uniform was lying on the chair, waiting for him. He donned it quickly, taking the opportunity to study himself in the mirror. There was no way he’d win any beauty prizes, but he looked honest, friendly and trustworthy. Police on Earth might go around looking and sounding like soldiers in a war zone - an apt description of Earth’s CityBlocks - but Arthur’s Seat preferred a softer vision of policing.
“You spend more time in front of that mirror than I do,” Jane teased. “Would you like to borrow some of my make-up?”
Mike glanced at her. She was shorter than him, her dark hair falling nearly to her shoulders and spilling around a white blouse and skirt. Her pregnancy was only just starting to show, a faint bump he would have missed if he hadn’t known to look for it. It wouldn't be long before they had to talk to her bosses and make arrangements for her to take maternity leave, even though there was a good chance she’d lose her job. The economy was too weak for someone to be allowed to take long-term leave.
But she’s a nurse, he thought. She shouldn't have any trouble finding a new
job.
“I think I look handsome enough already,” he said, striking a dramatic pose. His muscles failed to ripple, much to his disappointment. Fictional cops were either strikingly handsome, if they were the good guys, or ugly as sin, if they were the bad guys. Flicks rarely portrayed decent cops as ugly or vice versa. But then, the flicks were about as realistic as the old novels about a girl who went to magic school. “And make-up wouldn't improve my looks.”
“Probably not,” Jane agreed. She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be heading out in an hour. Text me if you’re coming back late.”
Mike nodded, feeling a flicker of nervousness. It wasn't common for him to be called into the station ahead of time. If he was in trouble ... but he wasn't in trouble. He knew he hadn't done anything to earn the ire of his superiors. And there was no drill scheduled, no football game on ... something must have happened. But what?
He kissed his wife and walked out the door, collecting his bike from its shelter beside the garden path and wheeling it onto the road. A handful of people were already going to work, but the streets still seemed largely deserted. Rush hour didn't start for at least another hour as people hurried to their workplaces. Even then ... he mounted the bike and peddled down the street, glancing from left to right. If there had been a disaster of some kind, there was no hint of it on the streets. In hindsight, he should have checked the datanet before he left the house.
Culture Shock Page 5