Dust

by Jason Hutt

  Lonnie stopped and was silent. Nick eyes widened slightly at the admission. Kids, more than anything, explained why she was really on Dust. The Vestara sped above the desert floor as the two sat in uncomfortable silence.

  “How many do you have?” Nick asked, unable to let the word pass.

  Lonnie sighed and then touched a spot on her control panel. A picture of her and two boys appeared on the console. They were young, roughly a year or two apart, but clearly their mother’s sons.

  “The one on the left is John, the one on the right Joseph,” she said softly, “We came out here when I was pregnant with Joseph, shortly after John was born.”

  Nick was shocked. His cheeks grew red and his brow furrowed in disbelief. He momentarily felt the urge to direct her to stop and let him out.

  “How can you do something like that when people across the Republic are dying because they have no food? That’s why the law exists. So that we get back to a point where there’s enough for everybody? How can you do something like this?” Nick asked.

  Nick knew, as all kids were taught, that population control laws and measures had been in place for almost 200 years. Food shortages and resource problems had turned the human race against itself. Colonies died out from starvation and disease, others wiped out local animal populations, while others turned on each other fighting for what food supplies were available. The fledgling Republic was threatened with civil war. Drastic measures were enacted to limit the ever burgeoning human population.

  Bio chips were modified to include receptors that altered the normal human reproductive cycle. Desperation had driven a mandate, there was to be no unauthorized reproduction. Adults, married or single, could apply for a parent license. Once granted, the person would be given hormone therapy that allowed for the birth of a single child. Multiple births were a rare exception to the law, though Nick had been taught something in school about how the chips released something that prevented that.

  Of course, he knew that with the establishment of the laws came the rise of the black market. He had been taught about so-called Breeder towns, the back alley establishments that used homemade hormone therapies to restore the right to have children. Breeder towns popped up on worlds across the Republic under deplorable conditions. Starvation and disease were rampant, and crime rates sky high as people preyed on each other to obtain the drugs they needed.

  The Republic established the Population Protection Division of Republic Security. The PPD hunted down these illegal towns; raids were conducted across the Republic. There were some violent confrontations, with the leaders of those sects painted as crazy, unstable criminals bent on destroying civilization. Nick could vividly remember the days when a PPD officer came to his class to warn them of the consequences of unauthorized population expansion and the threat they would be to the very fabric of society.

  Nick remembered the strident discussion of this in his history classes at all levels of his schooling. His teachers had repeatedly made it clear that this egregious violation of human rights was necessary to the survival of the species. This was sacrosanct. This was law. This was not to be violated.

  “Don’t lecture me, kid,” Lonnie said, “Not until you’ve had a chance to walk in my shoes.”

  Nick’s face was bright red. His hands trembled slightly. He looked at her with contempt; she looked at him with pity.

  “How many?” Nick asked with pointed anger, “How many other families are living out here like this? Is this what Max keeps telling me about when he says that everyone here on Dust is running or hiding?”

  “Nick,” Lonnie said, sliding her hand surreptitiously to her pocket, “Take a deep breath. Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” Nick said. He shifted in his seat to face her directly and her left hand calmly slid into her pants pocket. “How can you do something like this? Not only do you put other people at risk, but you put your own sons at risk. How can you stand to do this?”

  “Put them at risk for what, Nick?” She asked calmly but firmly.

  “Starvation, disease, death,” Nick said, “Not just for them, but for all of us.”

  “Look around, kid,” she said, “Do you see anyone starving out here?”

  “That’s not the point,” he argued.

  “Isn’t it? If we were so bad off that the slightest population increase could send humanity spiraling into oblivion, wouldn’t you expect us to be dying out here? Wouldn’t you expect everyone to be just scraping by? Last time I was at Nexus, I don’t recall seeing too many emaciated people crawling about begging for scraps. We all seem pretty fat and happy.”

  “That’s because the system is working as intended,” Nick said, “Unless people like you doom us all because of your wanton carelessness.”

  “Don’t be so naïve-”

  “Don’t call me naïve,” Nick retorted. His temper was barely controlled.

  She spoke softly, almost conciliatory in an effort to calm him. “What do you intend to do, Nick? Where do you go from here?”

  “I should turn you in,” Nick said heatedly, though the edge of his words had softened.

  “To whom? The Governor’s office? Do you think they’ll lift a finger?”

  “Then I’ll notify sector security at Nexus,” he said.

  “Do you really think they’ll spend the resources to come get me? Do you really think they’ll care about one person on one remote world?”

  “Why not?” Nick asked, “Why wouldn’t they? This isn’t just some petty little crime. You could be put away for a long time, have your children stripped away from you. Besides, how do I know it’s just you? Windy City could be full of people like you for all I know.”

  She stared at him coolly, letting a few moments of silence pass between them.

  “I don’t know that one way or another,” she said earnestly, “As far as I know, I have the only unauthorized child in Windy City.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “I can’t help you with that one,” she replied. At that moment, the Vestara’s main computer issued a chime. They had arrived at Winters’ location. “We’ll continue this later.”

  He nodded curtly. Lonnie was just another person who did whatever she felt like, without regard to those around her. Selfish. Greedy. Like his father.

  He sat there unmoving, staring into the darkness that had quickly engulfed them.

  “Nick,” she said, “I’m not evil. I’m just a mom, a mom who loves her sons very much. I would never do anything to put them in harm’s way. If I didn’t think I could take care of them, I would have never had them.”

  “Right,” Nick said. He waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s go find your client.”

  He stressed the last word, twisting it with contempt.

  Lonnie settled the Vestara at the crest of a small rolling hill. According to the indicator on the wrist computer, Winters was just beyond the crest of the next hill. Lonnie grabbed a couple of flashlights out of the door of the Vestara and handed one to Nick.

  “Mr. Winters?” Lonnie called out.

  There was no response. She started off down the hill, Nick reluctantly in tow. This was a mistake, he thought, this whole thing. Shouldn’t have signed on with Max; shouldn’t have run off from home. Shouldn’t have come to this godforsaken place.

  He trudged ahead, not paying attention to where he was going.

  Lonnie gasped.

  Nick walked up beside her and followed the focus of her flashlight. Mr. Winters was lying on his back in a pool of blood. His torso had been sliced open from shoulder to waist. Nick had never seen anything like this before. He stood there, mouth agape, unsure of what to do.

  Lonnie hurried over to the unmoving body and knelt beside him, her knee dropping into the pool of his blood. She felt for a pulse on his neck and found nothing. She put her ear to his mouth, but caught no sign of him breathing.

  “Damn,” she said softly.

  “What was he hunting?” Nick asked, looking
around for any signs of the predator that did this. He struggled to take his eyes away from the body with its seeping wound or from the blood that was being soaked into the desert floor.

  “Dust Devils,” she said. Nick looked at her quizzically. “They’re like large, feral dogs, except they have a helluva temper.”

  “Could they have done this?” He asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t think so.”

  An unearthly screech pierced the night air. Lonnie looked up and Nick swung around with his flashlight. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge. At the end of his sweep, he thought he saw the outline of a figure, but it jumped back beyond the beam of his flashlight.

  Nick froze as he heard rustling in the distance. Something was moving fast below them across the dune. He swept his flashlight down, but the thing disappeared again. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Lonnie pull a gun from her pocket. She crouched protectively over Winters’ fallen body.

  Another shriek erupted from behind him.

  “Jesus,” Nick gasped, ducking involuntarily. Nick braced himself for an attack but none came. The air was now quiet. Nick breathed again; his hands trembled.

  “What the hell was that?” Nick asked.

  “No idea,” she said, “And I’m not sticking around to find out. Let’s get him in the craft and get out of here. Let’s get him back to Windy City, then you can turn me in for my crimes against humanity,” she said, letting her annoyance show. As Nick knelt by the old man’s shoulders preparing to pick him up, he saw a tear streak down her face.

  ***

  Late that night, Max stepped onto the brightly lit spaceport landing pad. He had too much to drink that evening, but the news of Winters’ death had sobered him up. Word had reached the Dry Dock fairly quickly after Lonnie and Nick returned to the landing pad. Tragedies like this were rare, but not unheard of around here.

  There had been a murder here a couple of months ago, a crime of passion, but that was the last time Max could remember something like this happening. He knew Lonnie would be shaken a bit and also wondered how the kid had handled everything. He walked out on the pad, wearing his respirator and goggles. The wind that night was mild, but there was still a fair amount of sand being blown around.

  Lonnie was going over the Vestara with an ultraviolet light, looking for any unseen stains around the rear passenger door. She found a spot and dabbed at it with a silver cloth in her right hand. She pulled the cloth away and Max watched as the small spot quickly faded.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Max?”

  He was surprised by her aggravated tone.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Lonnie stood up and her fierce blue eyes tore into him from behind her goggles.

  “That kid is a threat,” she said vehemently, “He’s a threat to this whole colony.”

  Max sighed and said, “He knows then.”

  “Yes, he damn well knows,” Lonnie said, wiping the silver cloth across her hands, “He knows about my boys. Did you really think you could bring him here without him finding stuff like this out?”

  “Hasn’t been a problem before,” Max said, looking down at the pad away from her angry stare.

  She stepped into his face. “You didn’t hire anyone from Valhalla before Max. Christ, you’re an idiot.”

  Max took an involuntary step back and shrugged. “He’s just a kid, Lonnie. An idiot kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. What do you really think he’s going to do? Besides, he may be from Valhalla, but he’s trying to get away from his old man. Maybe all this will open his mind a bit.”

  “Do you know why he’s out here, Max? How do you know he’s not some Republic mole?”

  “You’re being paranoid, Lonnie. He’s just a confused kid, a little naïve and idealistic, but he’ll get beyond that.”

  “He’s a threat, Max. He’s a threat to this entire colony,” Lonnie said, turning away from him, “If you’re lucky, he’ll only get himself killed.”

  Chapter 4

  Nick awoke still wearing the coveralls that he had donned prior to the delivery to Fracture. His hands were still stained by Winters’ blood. He stripped and staggered into the shower. Today, the sonic vibrations did not seem to be enough to shake loose the dried flecks of blood that stuck to his hands. He went to the sink, but minutes after minutes of scrubbing didn’t seem to wash the dark red color away.

  The image of Winters’ body was burned into his mind. Before ever seeing him, he had reviled the man for what he was doing. Alien life, life native to worlds other than Earth, was so far very rare in the galaxy. That life was to be protected, not hunted down for the amusement of the rich. Nick could never have approved of what Winters was doing. However, he didn’t wish the man dead.

  Lonnie didn’t speak to him the entire trip back. She had sat there in the pilot’s seat, staring into the night, tears running down her cheeks. They were met at the landing pad by a team of doctors with an incredibly archaic, wheeled gurney. Nick had never seen one before, didn’t even know they existed.

  The team of doctors loaded Winters onto the gurney and whisked him away. One of them stayed behind, a Doctor Booth, and he took short statements from Lonnie and Nick. Minutes later, the Doctor was gone, Lonnie turned her attention to cleaning out the Vestara, and Nick was riding the subway back to the hotel by himself. His mind was overwhelmed from the shocks of the evening. He found he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling.

  The night’s sleep had not helped him much. He struggled even to pick out clothes to put on. Finally, he decided he was too hungry to care, put the dirty, stained coverall back on, and marched down to the cafeteria.

  He sat down at the first open table and ordered the same thing he had the day before, this time getting a double order. He turned up the volume of the news broadcast, slumped in his seat and watched vacantly. The same female news anchor stared at the camera while images of another riot played over her shoulder.

  “Riots continued on Canis 1 today,” she reported, “As Republic security forces tried in vain to keep the peace, Marshall Conglomerate representatives continued negotiations with colony leaders to provide the colony with emergency supplies of military rations. The supplies would provide a stopgap food supply while colony researchers continue to search for viable crops that will thrive in the soil on Canis 1.”

  “In the meantime,” she continued, “The Governor of Katia pledged to send supplies from their reserves to help with the situation on Canis 1.”

  The image shifted to a middle-aged man with graying temples and dark circles under his eyes. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “We’re sending what we can,” he said in a dry, hoarse voice, “But there’s only so much we can spare without putting ourselves at risk.”

  Nick’s food arrived and his stomach audibly growled at the sight of it. The succulent aroma filled his nostrils and he dug into his double order eagerly. About halfway through, he felt a pang of guilt, gorging as he was. The news broadcast continued on in the foreground, with the story having shifted to a new vaccine the Conglomerate was developing for the residents of Midas.

  Nick tuned out the broadcast. He wasn’t sure if he was bothered more by the image of the dead man that was burned in his memory or the conversation he’d had with Lonnie before that. Both were a shock to him. This was a far cry from the life he knew.

  Suddenly no longer able to eat, he pushed his plate away and walked out of the room.

  ***

  Max stood in front of Sylvia Pritchard’s desk in the otherwise empty customs office. His shoulders slumped slightly; his eyes were puffy from a lack of sleep.

  “What’s the latest?” Max asked.

  Sylvia looked up at him with a disappointed smirk and a shake of her head.

  “I’m sorry, Max,” Sylvia said, “It doesn’t look like our link will be restored any time soon. It’s not a hardware fault; some sort of software corruption. Damn strange. I
t could be another couple of weeks.”

  “Sylvia, you know I can’t wait that long,” Max said, pleading, “Doc Sinclair doesn’t like it when his shipments are delayed.”

  Sylvia nodded her head in understanding. “I know, Max, I know, but regulations are regulations. I can’t release your cargo without clearance from Nexus. You know the drill.”

  Max shook his head in aggravation.

  “Can’t make any money with my ship on the ground,” Max said. Also, the more time Nick had to poke his nose into things, the more likely he was to get into trouble. Need to get him out of here, Max thought, let things cool off a bit.

  “I know, Max,” Sylvia said, “You’ve got bills to pay.”

  Max let out a sigh.

  “I know you’re doing everything you can,” Max said, “Shoot me over a waiver form though. I’ll take it by the Governor’s office.”

  “Whatever you need to do,” Sylvia said. She tapped her desktop in a few places and a moment later the form popped up on Max’s wrist computer. He smiled, thanked her, and headed out of the office.

  He took a moment to fill out the form and submit it. He then checked his account balances on his wrist computer just as he had every day for the last ten years. He grimaced as he reviewed his debts owed. He wasn’t going to make any money by standing around here.

  Max headed out of the customs office and his mind wandered back to the conversation with Lonnie. He wasn’t sure what to do with Nick out here. The kid would have to adjust or be adjusted. Spout off again like he did to Lonnie and Nick’s stay on Dust might be extremely short. Got to keep an eye on him, Max thought.

  ***

  Nick had hopped on the subway, which he was surprised to see relatively full. The subway car stopped at the Governor’s Hall and he briefly debated taking another trip to the neglected chapel. However, he stayed aboard and decided to follow a number of people as they got off and entered Windy City’s residential district.

  Two or three of the other people gave him an odd look as he stepped off behind them. He looked down at his clothes and for the first time noticed a few spots where blood had been smeared on the hips of his tan coverall. He moved his hand to his sides and tried to obscure the still noticeable splotches. He then lowered his eyes toward the floor and pressed ahead into the main thoroughfare.