by Jason Hutt
Nick scrambled to the open panel and held out his hand. Max pulled him up with a jerk and deftly unclipped the tether from the floor. Reggie overpressurized the compartment to keep any more sand from flowing in and replaced the panel.
Nick sat with his back to the compartment wall and tore off the goggles and mask.
“I hate this ship already,” he said weakly.
“That’s the spirit, kid,” Max said, smiling, “You’re already coming around.”
***
Half an hour later, after Max completed post flight checks and asked Reggie to check into a cockpit fan that had picked up a slight rattle, Nick found himself in the drab Windy City customs office. An old woman with short, silver hair greeted them with a kind smile.
“Good to see you again, Max,” she said kindly.
Max nodded in return. “You too, Sylvia.”
“Who’s the new guy?” She asked, turning her attention to Nick.
“My new co-pilot,” Max said, “Sylvia, this is Nick Papagous. Go ahead; tell her where you’re from.”
“Valhalla,” Nick said, nodding politely at the older woman. She smiled at him and approached with a black baton in her right hand. She was shorter than Nick by a good foot or so.
“Valhalla?” Sylvia said with a skeptical look on her face. “I hope this isn’t a missionary trip, hon, or you’ll get driven off this rock faster than you can say the Lord ’s Prayer.”
“It’s not,” Nick responded, “I promise.”
She eyed him cautiously for another moment. It was plain to Nick that she was trying to assess how honest he was being. After a long moment sizing him up, she shrugged and went about her business.
“You’re a tall one,” she said, grabbing him gently by the right elbow, “Mind leaning forward a bit so I can scan your chip?”
Nick gave her a puzzled look.
“There’s no full body scanners here, kid,” she said, “I’m going to need to scan your bio chip with this.”
Nick was slightly surprised; he had never been through this before. He leaned forward and Sylvia passed the black baton emblazoned with the Marshall Conglomerate logo over the back of his neck. The baton beeped and a moment later an image of Nick along with his official Republic record popped up on her wrist computer. Nick could see his marital status, his child permit status, his criminal record, his immunization status, and the rest of his vital statistics listed on the display.
“Single, huh?” Sylvia said with a raised eyebrow, “Well, I hope you haven’t come to Dust looking for love. I can count the number of single women here on one hand, myself included.”
Nick blushed a bit and laughed. “Not really at the top of my to-do list.”
Sylvia looked over Nick’s scrawny, lanky frame and smiled at him warmly.
“You’re a little young to be out this way, aren’t you?”
Nick tried to hide his agitation. “Just trying to step out on my own a bit. Spent most of my life on Valhalla. Thought I’d try to broaden my horizons.”
“Oh, son, you couldn’t have picked a worse place,” Sylvia said.
“So I’ve been told,” Nick responded, nodding at Max.
Max couldn’t help but smile. Sylvia gave Nick a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. She then scanned Max’s chip. She glanced at something on her wrist computer, putting her arm as far away from her as she could in order to read the information.
“Max, go ahead and file your forms. It’ll be a few days before I get clearance to release your cargo. The return path on our data link is down again.”
“Again?” Max said, “Think the Republic just needs to replace that relay. Should get the Governor on that.”
Sylvia shot Max a look that suggested he was delusional.
“If you can get that lazy slob off of his fat ass, you are more than welcome to push that idea through, sweetheart,” Sylvia said.
Max laughed and headed towards an enclosed booth at the end of the room.
“What’s that mean?” Nick asked. He suspected he knew the answer, but he wanted to be sure.
“No communications from Nexus, for one,” Max said.
“No communications from anyone,” Sylvia added, “We can send stuff out, but we can’t receive anything.
Nick suppressed a smile. Let’s see my father find me out here, he thought. This was better than he could possibly have hoped. He had effectively stepped off the map, well beyond his father’s reach. Now he just needed to convince Max to let him stay.
“Nick, welcome to Dust,” Sylvia said as she gave him a pat on the back, “Don’t let Max be too hard on you.”
Nick nodded thanks and followed Max into the booth. It was a slightly cramped space with a computer desk and an interactive map on the wall. Max had transferred the appropriate manifest forms from his wrist computer to the customs computer built into the smooth, glass-topped desk.
Nick ignored Max’s bureaucratic filings as he studied the map of Dust on the wall. There wasn’t much to look at. They had landed in Windy City, the de facto Capitol of the colony. There were only two other settlements on the map, Fracture, a mining town to the west, and Bloom, a farming community that lay just to the North nestled at the foot of the large mountain range that dominated the upper half of the continent. One other marker on the map caught Nick’s attention, a quarantine zone on the northeast tip of the continent.
“What happened up there?” Nick asked, tapping on the screen. Nick was disappointed when no additional information appeared.
Max looked up from his forms. “Where?”
Nick tapped the quarantine marker on the map again.
“Freighter accident,” Max said, turning his attention back to the screen embedded in the desktop, “Story is it was carrying a load of supplies in, misjudged some winds and piled into the cliffs in that area. Reactor core was exposed and contaminated the area for the next thousand years.”
Nick nodded and said, “Surprised they couldn’t clean that up quicker.”
“The Republic released some kind of microbe that was supposed to clean it up,” Max responded, “Didn’t work though. Something native to the soil killed off the microbe. At that point, they decided it wasn’t worth the money to clean it up.”
“That’s lousy,” Nick said.
“Like I said, if it’s bad for the bottom-line, it’s bad for the Conglomerate. If it’s bad for the Conglomerate, it’s bad for the Republic,” Max said matter-of-factly. He finished the form and pressed his thumb to the glass to sign the document.
“Let’s get out of here,” Max said, “With the link down, it’ll take Sylvia a couple days to verify the manifest with Nexus. Until that happens, we sit tight.”
“Great,” Nick said, “So what do we do until then?”
“I don’t know about you, kid,” Max said, “But I’m ready for a cold one.”
Nick said, “Look can you stop calling me kid? I really don’t feel like having everyone here call me that.”
Max hesitated a moment.
“Fair enough, ki…er, Nick. Bet you a beer you’ll hear it from everyone else you meet on this trip anyway.”
“You’re on,” Nick said, “And thank you. I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day.”
“Ha,” Max said, “Gotta earn your stripes, Nick. This day’s just getting started.”
Max led them to a lift and waved goodbye to Sylvia who had sat back down at her desk and started watching something that was just out of their view. She waved back and gave them a nice smile as they got in the lift.
“Subway,” Max commanded the lift.
“I thought you said everyone here was running or hiding,” Nick said as the doors closed.
“I did,” Max said.
“That old woman isn’t running from anything,” Nick said, “And I don’t think she’s got too much to hide.”
“Not everyone’s running from a crime, Nick,” Max said, “Sylvia? She’s outlived her husband and her son. She’s running from bad memories; came
here for a clean start.”
Nick listened and nodded.
“So what are you running from?” Nick asked.
“Me? I’m too old to run,” Max said dryly, “Makes my knees hurt.”
The lift reached its destination and the doors opened. The subway station was all but empty. The only other presence was the robot attendant, who unlike most other humanoid models, consisted only of a large optical scanner and speaker on the left wall. The station itself could not have been more than ten meters square with a single car. In that car, which was roughly double the size of the Hannah’s cockpit, there were no more than ten seats.
“Is this it?” Nick asked.
“Yep, it’s a far cry from Valhalla,” Max said, stepping up to the scanner and pressing his thumb on its face. A moment later, the robot beeped.
“Welcome back, Captain Maxime Cabot,” the synthesized voice said, “Enjoy your stay.”
Nick stepped forward and did the same. This time, Nick noticed a hint of excitement in the robot’s voice.
“Welcome, first time visitor Nicholas Papagous! If you have any questions, please stop by the Visitors Bureau located in the lobby of the Drifter Hotel. The hotel is the second stop on the subway. Also, be sure to drop by the Dust Museum of History located in the basement of the Governor’s Hall, the next to last stop on the route. Enjoy your stay!”
“Well isn’t that nice,” Max said, “Come on, I’m thirsty.”
Nick boarded the car and looked at the destination list; there were only six possible stops. He looked at the open seat, which one day long ago may have been a cream color but was now mildew-tinged and rust brown, and decided to stand. Max didn’t hesitate to sit.
“Dry Dock,” Max commanded and the doors closed. Seconds later, they were off with a lurch and a loud squeal.
“Lovely,” Nick said.
“At least it works,” Max said.
“Right.”
Max laughed. He seemed to be getting a lot of enjoyment out of Nick’s discomfort.
“This place, this Dust, can get under your skin real quick. The grit and grime will get under your fingernails, turn them black. You’ll cut and scrub, but you won’t get them clean. It’ll get in your teeth, grinding with every bite you chew. Hell, even the beer will feel like it comes with a cup of silt in every bottle. But, you’ll adapt. Get to the point where you don’t even notice; where a smooth glass of water just doesn’t feel right. You’ll do all right, Nick. You showed that today when you lowered the strut.”
Nick nodded somewhat absently, not sure if he really believed Max. This was a far cry from the clear blue skies of home. For the first time since he left, he felt homesick.
“Ever been away from home for this long, Nick?” Max asked.
Nick shook his head. “I went to a month long summer camp once, but that was on Valhalla, and I put in a call to my parents every night.”
“I could’ve guessed,” Max said.
“That obvious?”
“I’d venture to say you’re not much of a poker player,” Max said, “Going to have to toughen up out here. Else this place’ll chew you up pretty quick.”
At that moment, the subway car came to a slightly stilted stop and the doors whooshed open. Nick followed Max into the station, this one just as small, cramped, dirty, and empty as the departure station. Max took his old, beat-up, gray backpack off his shoulder and pulled out goggles and a mask. Nick gave him a quizzical look.
“Time to go for a walk outside, Nick,” Max said, gesturing to a set of stairs to their right, “Never go outside on Dust without your goggles and mask, lest you want a scratched cornea or two and a mouthful of sand. That swirling sand you experienced while working on the strut just gets worse the closer you get to the surface.”
“Great,” Nick replied. He felt tempted to get back on the subway car and return to the Hannah. After a moment’s hesitation, Nick donned his goggles and mask and then gave Max a thumbs-up that he was ready. At the bottom of the stairway, Nick noticed a few scattered grains of sand on the steps. By the time they reached the top, there was easily a half inch layer of sand on everything except for the large metal doors that led to the outside. To Nick’s surprise, the doors were not automated.
Max hit the switch that retracted a heavy latch, the door then swung toward them. A foot closer to it and Nick would have been knocked down the stairs. Blinding light from the outside filled the dimly lit hallway. The whistling wind drowned out any other sounds. Max put a gloved hand in front of his face and stepped outside. Nick hesitated, watching as the sand swirled around Max.
He had heard of sandstorms, but had never seen one. The sand rotated around Max, seemingly hitting him from all sides. Max gestured for Nick to follow and tried to yell above the wind.
“Don’t just stand there! Let’s go!”
Nick nodded and hurriedly stepped outside. Grains of sand immediately pelted his skin. He felt the sting of thousands of little needles digging into his cheeks. He made a mental note to bring a scarf next time. No wonder Max wore a beard. Once Nick stepped through the door, Max pulled it closed with a grunt. The thud of the latch closing automatically on the inside of the door could barely be heard above the swirling winds.
Max pointed to the left and trudged on without a word. Nick fell into step behind him, his cheeks and forehead already red with windburn. Nick had never experienced anything close to this. His home, Valhalla, had a perfectly regulated climate. It rained as needed, the temperatures were mild, and no one was ever surprised by the weather. This was crazy. Nick no longer wondered why he didn’t see more people at the subway station. No one in their right mind would live in these conditions voluntarily.
After a minute of plodding along, a noise pierced the droning howl of the wind and sand. It took a moment for Nick to register the sound. It wasn’t until Max turned around and clutched his arm in an overly firm grasp that he realized he was listening to the wail of a siren. Max put his mouth right next to Nick’s ears.
“Storm siren! We have to move!”
Nick nodded his understanding. On cue, the wind reached an almost unbelievable pitch and a wall of sand smacked into him. Nick staggered back a step. Even though he knew Max could not be more than three feet from him, Nick could no longer see him.
Nick panicked.
His first thought was to run, but his second thought was that he didn’t know where to go. His feet locked in place. He could no longer see the doors to the subway station. In fact, he couldn’t see anywhere to go. After several long moments, he felt Max forcefully grab his wrist and he was dragged along. The sirens continued to wail and the wind grew in strength.
Max pushed Nick against another hard metal door. He could barely see Max throw it open. This time, Nick jumped through the door with no hesitation. He took a lunging step through and slipped on some loose sand. He fell to his knees in an ungraceful heap as he heard the clunk of the door closing. The roar of the wind faded to a whisper and sand gently settled to the ground around him.
Nick ripped off his mask and yelled, “Oh, thank God.”
In response, he heard a roar of laughter.
“Little rough out there for you, son,” said an old man seated just to the right of the door. Blood immediately rushed to Nick’s face. He felt frustration well up inside of him, frustration with being embarrassed, with being overwhelmed by the elements, and most of all, frustration with not being his best.
While still on his knees, he looked down at the floor and composed himself, breathing slowly in and out. The blood drained from his face. He looked up to Max’s outstretched hand, offering to help him up. Max’s expression was sympathetic.
“No shame, Nick,” Max said in a low tone, “Everyone here gets rattled every once in a while by the weather, especially when you’re not used to it.”
Nick nodded, but brushed away the hand. “Thanks, but I’m all right.”
Max shrugged and walked into the dimly lit bar beyond them. “Fine then, let�
��s have a beer.”
Nick stood, somewhat shakily at first, and followed Max to the bar. He looked around at the dark, rundown establishment. The entire room and all the furniture with the exception of the bar was a dull gray. Sand covered the first ten feet of floor, then it turned a dull black with light reflecting off long dried stains of Nick didn’t know what.
The bar stools were a mismatched set of old spaceship seats. The bar itself seemed to be scavenged from a variety of spaceship parts complete with what looked like the control panel from Max’s ship. There wasn’t much of a crowd either with easily less than fifteen people in the room. Nick wondered if this was normal or not for this time of day.
He sidled up to Max and took a seat in an old bucket seat that, judging by the scuff marks and unidentifiable stains, must’ve been scavenged from a hundred-year-old passenger liner. Nick and Max had the bar to themselves with everyone else seated in the darker corners of the room.
A woman stepped from behind a thin red curtain at the other end of the bar and approached them. She was about as old as Max and probably had the plainest looks of any woman Nick had ever met. She had long brown hair, streaked with gray. She wore no makeup and her complexion was pale. Nick shook his head incredulously.
“What’s with you, kid?” The bartender asked in a warm, soft tone the belied her looks.
“Thanks, Myra,” Max said, “You just won me a beer.”
Nick sighed.
“You can explain that in a minute, Max, but your little travel companion hasn’t answered my question.”
Nick almost flushed again and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s just been a long time since I’ve seen a place with a flesh and blood bartender, manual doors, and not a server ‘bot in sight. I feel like I’ve gone back in time. Either that or I’m in some kind of museum.”
Myra shook her head at him. “Did you happen to notice all the sand outside, boy? If you can supply a gear or a joint that won’t get jammed up within a couple hours, you can make a lot of money around here. But, I wouldn’t start thinking of us all as primitive hicks. Do that and you’re liable to get yourself knocked on your ass a few times before you leave.”