by Mark Zubro
Brux nodded. “You know the progress we’ve made on the solar conductors.” Joe and several of the others nodded. He continued, “I’ve found a way to set them up so that we could be self-sufficient in energy production within a month.”
The men murmured in astonishment. Mike let it die down. He too had been surprised when Brux told him the news earlier. Brux continued, “As you know having control of our energy supply has been one of our main goals.”
“Not approved in the charter,” Coof said.
“Not mentioned in the charter,” Brux corrected. “Because they never dreamed we’d set so unbelievable or unrealistic a goal, and a goal decided on by the members of this colony unanimously at our first meeting.”
Brux and Coof glared at each other.
Cak said, “And Brux doesn’t even work in the energy sector.”
“So what?” Joe asked.
“It’s not his area of expertise.”
Brux said, “I showed you the specs in detail. Are you saying they won’t work.”
“No.”
Brux snapped. “Good.”
“Go on with your explanation,” Mike prodded.
“In my spare time I’ve been tinkering with some ideas on how we could increase energy resources, in case something happened to the supply ships, if they simply decided to abandon us here to die. Even if we seem to have been living the worst that could happen, it still doesn’t hurt to prepare for the unthinkable.”
Mike tuned out the rest of Brux’s technical explanation. He’d heard it once already and hadn’t understood it then. If Brux vouched for the technical aspects, Mike was ready to agree. Mike had come to trust his abilities. Mike wanted the colony to be completely independent so the men could then look forward to some degree of security. Energy self-sufficiency during the sunny months was a start, and if it worked, a miracle. For now they were totally dependent on the arrival of the supply ships from the government.
Brux finished, “So with a hundred extra man-hours a week allocated to the Energy Corp, we could do it in a month, maybe less.”
Sry, head of the mining section objected. “We can’t spare that kind of man-hours. We have only a brief period of time before the next shipment of colonists arrive. We’ve been getting a few new men with each supply ship. Who knows what they might decide to send. To be ready, I need every man hour that I’ve been allocated. If anything I need more, not less.” He shot a look at Cak. “I don’t disagree with the goal. It’s a practical question. Many of us are on the point of exhaustion. Can we really ask more of ourselves than we already are?”
Mike knew it was a circular debate. The energy, agricultural, and mining groups were always requesting more work hours allocated to their sector. The work was rigidly allocated. All of them were expected to do minimal labor of ten hours a day. They had been doing so since they arrived. The amount of work that needed to be done in starting up a colony was staggering. The actual reality of life on6743-0A had been nearly overwhelming although the men’s spirits remained high. So far, they were still willing to endure the back-breaking labor involved.
When Mike found out men often put in more than the required time, he’d been worried about the danger of physical breakdowns, no matter how strong the motivation for work. Mike looked forward to the arrival of the new colonists, if for nothing else it meant the killing workload would be reduced.
He turned his attention back to the meeting. Mike had told Brux earlier he’d only give him fifty more man-hours. Fortunately that compromise number was emerging from the group. There might be grumbling about greater man hour allocations for the energy sector but they all shared the hope that they would be energy independent and were willing to sacrifice to get it.
Brux said, “If I can get fifty, I’ll take it.” He knew his energy system would work, if given the time and man-hours.
After disposing of several minor items on the agenda Mike announced the beginning of the weekly Free Forum. It was a time set aside at each meeting when any member of the colony could speak on any issue. The Free Forum parts of the meetings bored Mike silly. He couldn’t imagine how people who worked so hard could have the energy to talk so long. And then they would argue for hours about some of the most useless topics. He located the list of speakers. Cak, as usual, had signed up first, but there were only two other speakers listed. Maybe he’d get to bed before midnight one night his week.
“Okay, Cak, you’re first,” Mike said.
Cak began, “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I rise to speak tonight to an issue this group continues to ignore and was brushed aside earlier tonight. Why are there no women on this colony?”
Mike tuned Cak out. The best way to handle Cak, Mike had discovered, was to say nothing. Other colony members had begun to catch on and Cak’s pronouncements were most often met with silence nowadays. Mike wondered how long it would take for Cak to catch on to what was happening.
Brux touched Mike’s shoulder and pointed to the computer screen embedded in the desk in front of him. The communication light blinked. He punched the readout button. The computer screen printed – ULTRA SECRET MESSAGE FROM THE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT – then went blank.
Cak wound down five minutes later. Mercifully the other men who spoke were brief and discussion stayed at a minimum.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Only the computer console in Mike’s and Joe’s living cubicle could receive and decode such messages. Mike did not look forward to whatever news awaited him. He was tired already.
As Mike and Joe trudged up the incline to their cubicle. Mike asked, “Is there prejudice against you here because I’m an Earthling?”
“Because you’re not from Hrrrm. It would be equivalent to the attitude in your country about mixed race marriages in the nineteen sixties.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have been aware of it.”
“In your 1960s a lot of people were over it. It wasn’t illegal in a lot of places. But even the day we left Earth, there were still a lot of people prejudiced about it. They just couldn’t stop it.”
Mike said, “I know they talked about this at the Senate meeting. We should have talked about it.”
“What’s to talk about? I love you. I don’t question the love. I question them.”
“It makes it harder for you here.”
Joe looked up and down the gray, poorly-lit tunnel they were hiking up. He patted the wall. “Not much harder than this.”
They embraced in the tunnel and kissed. Joe left to make a final check on the agricultural work done that day. Some days it seemed Joe was trying to coax the damn plants to grow one by one.
Mike marched to deal with the message from the government. Ten hours of slicing and melting rocks, four hours of fruitless meeting, and now another ultra-secret communication from the central government waiting in their cubicle, with a response expected before they slept. They were lucky they had the two extra hours in the day. Mike found the messages frustrating. About one time out of twenty the communications from the government were actually important. The problem was that no bureaucrat would admit that his work was possibly less than top priority vital. Of course, everything was most vital these days. He snorted in derision.
Mike entered their cubicle. He punched in the code to activate the energy supply for their room. They had up to six hours of personal energy use a day. This included more than the eternal ambient light for six hours along with heat to be on at sixty-eight degrees for the same amount of time. The rest of the time the heat was kept at fifty-eight. They slept fully clothed.
Mike considered the six hours a triumph. If Brux’s system worked, they hoped to be up to twelve hours a day per person.
The colony’s energy came from two sources. The solar collectors on the mountain sides and the electric generators buried just beneath the surface next to the mountains. They were for use during the rainy season. These generators had to be resupplied by the supply ships. Each of the devices cost a billion dollars. The colony had ten of them. It was the single
largest expense in setting up the colony.
Mike spent much of his time trying to get more of these. Solar energy was great, but the nights were cold and ninety percent of the energy had to be used for the water pumps for the crops. Bringing the precious water to the surface was of prime importance.
Joe entered.
“Plants okay?” Mike asked.
“For tonight.” He sighed and sat on the bed then said, “I think I like those plants more than I like most of these people. Those meetings drive me nuts.”
Mike said, “I thought all the evil people would be Bex and his minions, especially the Religionists.”
“Gay people can be evil too. And maybe Bex isn’t all evil.”
“I’d find that last hard to believe, and I knew gay people could be shits to each other. I’ve seen that happen. It’s just, in the middle of this horror, I’d hope we’d revert to kindness, or at least reasonableness.”
“With death and destruction facing all of us? I think any reaction is understandable.”
“Bex’s evil isn’t.”
“Actually, it kind of is. He wants to make money, and he wants to be all powerful. He can make tons of money from this situation. He’s Mister Security for this end of the universe. Right now, you’re all powerful and that’s all that’s stopping him.”
“Not stopping him enough. He’s still killing gay people.”
“We’ll get him some day.”
Mike said, “I wish I could believe that. Yes, I know I can just out and out kill him when next I’m in his presence, but I don’t think that would stop what’s happening to us. He’s just taking advantage of it. And he’s got the personality of someone who likes to kick puppies.”
“We all agree he’s a shit, and that we’re stuck unless we get a miracle or two. What’s the secret message?”
Mike turned on his desk computer and began typing in the codes that would eventually reveal the message which began to appear on the screen a minute later. “Shit,” he said after he read it. He punched on the keys on the computer to tie into the intercom system.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Mother’s too tired to care,” came a high-pitched voice.
“I need you here,” Mike said.
“The only emergency these tired old bones will respond to if the sun is going to explode in the next five minutes. I am available for that, but not for anything less.”
“Now, please, Brux,” Mike said and switched the communicator off. While Mike waited, he worked on the stack of supply orders that he was a week behind on. Joe went over plans for the next seeds the supply ship was supposed to bring.
Brux barged into the room. “Well dear, what is it?” Without giving Mike a chance to reply Brux continued, “This had best be vital beyond my wildest dreams.” He plunked himself onto the stone slab that was Mike and Joe’s bed. Brux pulled at a corner of his moon uniform. “Look at this dreadful thing, so gray, so drab, so filthy. How’s a girl to keep her spirits up? I haven’t had it off in weeks I’m sure.”
For doing laundry most of the men opted for the unpleasant but somewhat effective chemo-rinse every day. Like on Mike’s ship to Hrrrm, this consisted of standing fully clothed under a spray of chemicals for fifteen seconds. You and your clothes dried almost instantly since the chemicals evaporated so rapidly. Mike seldom felt clean from this treatment. Eventually everyone began to have the same faint chemical odor about them. Mike longed for a real shower.
Brux bitched on, “And I know you didn’t call me up here to offer me all the hot sex I’ve been desperately longing to have. So let’s keep it brief. Mother needs her beauty sleep. Really, dear, you and Joe may be the hunkiest things in this colony, but there are limits to what I’d do for you. Cute covers a multitude of sins, and gorgeous beyond words is nigh on to sainthood, but there are limits.”
Joe smiled.
Brux worked harder than any of the other men in the colony except Mike and Joe. Brux had worked miracles with a minimum of men and materials. He had a personality similar to Mike’s dearest friend on Earth, Meganvilia, a man of extraordinary proportions and talents. Brux, thin as Ichabod Crane, older by far than most of the other colonists, wrinkled and sarcastic, had been a great help through the training and here on the planet.
Mike smiled for a moment at the outburst then announced, “I got a message from the central government. A guy named Fash arrives tomorrow. He’s leading an inspection tour with a committee composed of members of the Senate which includes a large number from the Religionist faction.”
“Do I have to learn to pray for the visit?” Brux snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. As soon as I see them, I could run up to them and drop to my knees. I do some of my best work on my knees.”
Mike said, “I’m not sure how many would be interested in such generosity.”
“More than they’d care to admit.”
Joe said, “Prayer from any of us is the last thing they’ll expect.”
Brux asked, “And what’s the first?”
Mike said, “I don’t know. All I have is a message that they’ll be here tomorrow.”
Brux smirked. “I can show them some places they’ve never inspected before.”
Mike ignored the comment and continued, “They didn’t give any reason for showing up at this time. We’re not due for an official inspection until the end of another month.”
Brux said, “I’m sure they’ll make their reasons painfully obvious before they’re through. They wouldn’t want to shut us down, do you think?”
“I can’t see that. It’s taken them too long to get this far. They wanted us exiled. Now they’ve got a plan, unbelievable resources, and support from the Senate.”
“Maybe they’ve decided on extermination.”
“How would that be different from this?” Mike asked.
Brux looked at him quizzically. “That’s more bitter than I’ve ever heard you be before.”
“I’ve never felt this bitter. I thought here was a chance to be away from all the shit we had to go through. I thought that I would be free at last.”
“We all did.”
Mike looked around their cubicle and sneered. “This is the freedom we’re supposed to build on? Constant brutal work, trying to grow a few stupid crops, with men who are angry, resentful, and who don’t begin to have the skills necessary to make this place work. Their biggest skill I’ve seen is the ability to have endless meetings.”
“Those were your idea.”
Mike gave him an exasperated look. “I know that.”
Joe said, “Mike, you know the meetings are long because everyone is allowed to speak for as long as they want. It’s one of our basic rules. It was yours, and I think it’s a good one.”
Brux harrumphed and turned efficient. “I think an occasional wallow in self-pity is food for the soul.”
Mike smiled.
Brux continued, “That’s better. You’ve had your wallow, now listen, my dear, I’ve busted my butt to make a go of this place. I am the best VEQ you ever hope to meet. When these fools show up tomorrow, you and all the rest of us will have our glad rags on. Our party smiles will be fixed upon our faces until it hurts. And they will be hideously impressed with what we’ve done. If they aren’t, I’ll find a way to bury them under a million tons of granite.”
Mike chuckled, “All right, Brux. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.”
“Far too true.” Brux rose and moved to go but stopped and posed in the doorway. “Well, Mary, enough of this. Mother has to get this place presentable. A flock of devoted, presumably non-gay, people is arriving, and we must be ready. I knew what I wanted to do tonight was more work.” And he was gone.
Mike and Joe crawled into bed and huddled together for warmth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brux fussed and fumed. He looked at Mike critically, “Honey, you have no sense of taste. Are you sure you’re gay?”
“Now what?” Mike asked.
“Real
ly, I have to dress all you boys.” He brushed invisible dirt from Mike’s outfit. Mike had chosen to wear the jeans and flannel shirt and running shoes he’d been wearing when he was kidnapped. They were well-worn and threadbare, but he was determined to make a statement, no matter how small and pointless that statement might be.
Mike, Joe, and Brux waited in the landing terminal for the committee.
Brux prattled on. “You should be in a prison uniform as all the rest of us are. They could see how obscene the way the gray thing clings around your ass, showing every tight curve. It’s even light enough to show the washboard ripples of that lean stomach, and your narrow hips, well.” He let he words dangle.
Mike said, “I’m nervous too, Brux.” The uniform was a stretchy fabric that clung even though all of them had lost weight with the boring rations.
Brux smiled at him. “Thanks,” he said. “You understand me. I think that’s why I really like you.”
“I know,” Mike said. “Under that loony VEQ façade there’s really, deep down, a very loony VEQ.”
Joe said, “Ah, Brux, while we’re waiting, Mike had the idea about using sand as the insides for pillows and cushions. I don’t know what we could use to pack it in and to sew up the packing. Any ideas?”
Brux snapped his fingers. “The boxes the packing material comes in. I should have thought of it.”
“Huh?” Mike and Joe said.
“You soak that stuff for several days in water. It gets real soft. When it dries it comes out softer. We could stuff those with sand.”
“What do we sew them up with?” Joe asked.
Brux said, “I’m keeping an inventory of everything we unpack. I have had my staff of two doing it since the beginning. Everybody records what they find to the central system. We’ve got several boxes of those immense cape-like tunics they wear in the Senate on ceremonial occasions.”
“Why the hell would we have those?” Joe asked.
“Random vicissitudes of the universe. And their old and tattered, but we can break down the threads to their thready-ness.”