by Ben Wolf
“Key, that’s not what I’m—”
“Let me finish, JB,” Keontae said, his voice calm, but firm. “That’s all I’m askin’. I’ll help you every way I can ’til we get there, but you know I wanna get back there soon. And in the meantime, I hear you. Sometimes a man’s gotta be alone. I get it. So every night when you go to sleep, and any other time you tell me, I’ll jump into the ship. Good?”
Relief filled Justin’s chest. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“Then it’s done, brother.”
“But listen, Key,” Justin said. “I don’t want you to leave. When I get you back to your mom, you can do what you gotta do, but I’m totally fine with you sticking with me if you want. I owe you that much, at least, for what you did for me. For what you’re still doing for me.”
“We’ll cross that slipstream when we get to it,” Keontae said. “Haven’t made any decisions yet. The idea of getting’ a new body is appealin’, but there’s benefits to ridin’ shotgun with you, too, so I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Guess we’ll see.”
“Yeah. We will.” Justin grinned at him. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Don’t get mushy on me, son. How can I improve your swagger if you keep goin’ soft like this?”
“Going soft with you around isn’t the problem. The opposite of that is the problem.”
“TMI, bro.” Keontae smiled, but shook his head. “Way too much information. Just put your damn boots back on so we can get you to your dinner with the captain. Unless… you’d rather I sit this one out?”
“Nah, bro. I want you there. You see things I don’t. Jump back into my arm whenever you’re ready.”
Within minutes, they had left Justin’s new room behind and headed toward the captain’s quarters for the second time that day—although the word “day” had little meaning in the dead of space.
The standard Coalition day was twenty-four hours, based on Earth’s twenty-four-hour day, despite the vast majority of planets in and out of the Coalition having different day and year lengths based on their rotation speeds and proximity to the central star(s) in their systems.
Someone somewhere had found a way to manage all of that and keep everything straight across the galaxy, and Justin was glad it wasn’t him. Just thinking about dealing with all of those moving pieces made him want to throw up.
As he passed the common room, Justin caught a distant glimpse of Lora heading into the kitchen. She didn’t make eye contact with him, probably on purpose, but there was no doubt from her rigid body language that she’d seen him.
Whatever. Not his problem anymore.
Arlie greeted Justin at the door again and beckoned him inside, and he soon found himself seated at the same table where he’d sat a few hours earlier. The only difference was that Rowley wasn’t there, thank God.
Along with Captain Marlowe, another shot glass of brown liquor waited for Justin at his spot at the table. When Arlie finally joined them, they toasted again and downed the bittersweet liquid. It wasn’t any better the second time.
Dinner came in the form of rehydrated salmon and rice with a sort of powdered butter flavoring. Justin hadn’t eaten salmon—or fish of any kind—since before he’d arrived on Ketarus-4, and he’d managed to vomit up most of that meal while still on the ship as it was entering the planet’s atmosphere. Damned vertigo at work.
But he didn’t put up a fuss. Meat—real meat—of any kind, rehydrated or otherwise, on trips like this was a rarity. It beat subsisting on powdered protein and flavorless potato flakes.
“Thanks again for the invitation,” Justin said. “Really nice to have someone to talk to, and nice to have a good meal for once.”
“Should be the first of many more to come,” Captain Marlowe said between bites. “Soon, too.”
“We’re already that close to the Jevilos System?” Justin asked.
“Better.” Captain Marlowe smirked at him. “We’re gonna catch a ride instead.”
Justin glanced at Arlie, but she gave him nothing to work with. He refocused on Captain Marlowe. “What do you mean?”
“Huge colonist freighter. Coming up on our six. We’re gonna dock with it and get repairs on the ship, and then we can go right back to work without having to dock on a planet.” Captain Marlowe tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “Gonna save time and money in the long run.”
“Oh. Good. Yeah, excellent.” Justin couldn’t help but wonder if it actually was a good plan or not, though. “Are you sure… I mean, do we know that the colonist ship will have what we need to repair the landing gear? It’s pretty mangled.”
“I take it you’re unfamiliar with the world of professional colonization? World-building, terraforming, and all that?” Captain Marlowe asked.
“Been a laborer all my life. Almost exclusively mining,” Justin replied. “In fact, this job’s the farthest I’ve ever gotten from traditional mining.”
“Mmm.” Arlie nodded, but she didn’t say anything else.
Captain Marlowe didn’t say anything either. They just sat there, staring at Justin for a long moment.
Finally, Justin asked, “So what am I missing when it comes to—”
“Colonist ship’s not just any ship,” Captain Marlowe said. “Thing’s a flying city. When it lands, the ship and everything inside it stay on the planet, plant roots, and grow from there. It’s a fully formed capital city, complete with infrastructure, buildings, and, of course, people. They’ll have what we need, for sure.”
Justin could hardly fathom such a thing, but he’d heard that ACM and other copalion mining companies had created similar ships to establish new mines on uncharted or unclaimed planets. The ship would set down and essentially burrow into the ground, and then the workers on the ship would set out to establish the mine.
The ships had everything the mines needed to function, ranging from heavy machinery to alloy walls and computer networks all the way down to shovels, pickaxes, bedsheets, and soap dispensers for the bathrooms. The workers just had to put it all together, and then they could get to the actual mining part.
Apparently, colonist ships functioned similarly.
“Well, that’s good,” Justin finally said. “Sounds like a cool ship.”
“It’ll be just like visiting a city on a civilized planet. The rig-runners will get some R&R, we’ll get the repairs done, and we can restock some essentials.”
[Nice. New playground for me,] Keontae said.
“I like it,” Justin said. “Good plan.”
“Glad you approve.” Captain Marlowe shoveled a sporkful of rice and powdered butter into his mouth. As he chewed, he said, “Meant to thank you earlier, but I didn’t.”
“Thank me?” Justin stared at him until he realized what he was referencing. “Oh, the rig, the drill, and all that. You’re welcome, Enix, but really, I had to do something, or we all would’ve died. That’s how dire it was getting.”
“And that’s why I’m thanking you. Part of why, at least. You’ve got quite the electric thumb. Like an electrician magician.” Captain Marlowe nodded to Arlie, who spoke up before Justin could respond.
“You not only saved lives, but you kept the damage to the ship at a minimum. Saved us money as well. And time. And headaches.” Arlie leaned forward, and her eyes narrowed. “I hate headaches.”
“You shouldn’t have married one, then,” Captain Marlowe quipped.
Arlie didn’t respond. She just stared at him, stoic.
Justin couldn’t nail down their relationship dynamic. In what little time he’d been around them both, they hadn’t ever really talked to each other, and they certainly hadn’t shown any affection. But some people were like that—more private. He certainly couldn’t hold it against them, especially after asking Keontae for more privacy.
“Anyway,” Arlie continued, “thank you. By keeping me alive, you made my life much easier.”
Justin could only nod and repeat, “You’re welcome.”
“T
hat brings me to my next question,” Captain Marlowe said. “How, exactly, did you manage to do it?”
“I already told you this afternoon. I said that—”
“I know what you told me this afternoon. I’m not asking you to rehash that,” he said. “I’m asking you to tell me what really happened.”
Justin gulped and tried not to sweat.
[Easy, JB. Don’t get backed into a corner.]
“Just have a knack for it, I guess,” he said. “When it comes to computers and networks and systems, I see things others don’t see. I see them in ways others don’t see. And I can move them like no one else can.”
“That’s all well and good, but I’m asking how you managed to handle all of that,” Captain Marlowe pressed.
“I… I don’t think I understand the question.”
“That’s fine.” Captain Marlowe sighed and pulled a silver case out of one of his pockets. He clacked it open, revealing several rows of narrow metal sticks.
Arlie shifted in her seat, and she kept shifting as if she were perpetually uncomfortable in that chair, but she hadn’t been sitting there that long, and the shifting had only just now started. Otherwise, she’d barely moved since she’d sat down, except to eat and drink.
“Let’s change the topic, then.” Captain Marlowe popped one of the metal sticks in his mouth, crunched down on one end, and tucked the silver case back into his pocket. Then he leaned forward. “Why’d you leave Andridge behind?”
Justin almost gasped, but he managed to choke it down.
[Impossible. There’s no way he could know about what happened to Carl,] Keontae said. [He’s punkin’ you, JB.]
Arlie kept shifting, but Justin’s focus remained forward.
“I… I don’t understand that question, either,” Justin stammered. He could never admit how Carl Andridge had really died. Only Shannon, Keontae, and Justin knew, and they shared an unspoken pact to never say a single word about it for the rest of their lives.
So how did Captain Marlowe know about it? How could he know about it? There was no way.
When Arlie finally settled, she held a plasma repeater in her hand.
It was pointed at Justin.
“Understand the question now?” Captain Marlowe asked.
4
“I’m not gonna ask you again,” Captain Marlowe said. “Because I can’t have you endangering me or my crew. So here it is, one last time: why’d you leave Andridge Copalion Mines behind?”
Justin’s thundering heartbeat calmed at those words. Captain Marlowe wasn’t asking about Carl Andridge himself. He was asking about the company, ACM.
Even so, the question still bothered Justin. He’d hoped to expunge that part of his work history altogether, but Captain Marlowe had found out anyway. No sense hiding it now.
[Choose your words carefully, JB. Tell ’im how terrible they were to you, but don’t play the victim.]
Keontae was right. Justin was about to walk a fine line, especially since he didn’t know where Captain Marlowe and Arlie stood when it came to ACM specifically. As freelancers, their allegiance shifted to wherever and whoever would pay them.
Given ACM’s size and endless supply of credits, they could very well be one of the Viridian’s main sources of revenue. But they were polarizing, too. Before he’d ever worked for ACM, Justin had known that folks across the galaxy pretty much either loved or hated ACM. Few people occupied the chasm of feelings between.
Now, having been one of their employees and surviving what he’d survived in that mine from Hell, he understood perfectly well why so many people hated ACM. The question was, did that group include Captain Marlowe and Arlie?
“I worked there for several weeks. Got into some trouble,” Justin admitted.
[Careful, JB…]
“I definitely did some things to piss off management, but I also got thrown under the hoverbus by the company in the process. And on top of all that, I lost people I cared about, including my best friend, who died saving my life when the mine became unstable.”
Justin paused and tried to gauge their reactions, but neither of them moved a muscle.
“In the end, I got out of a bad situation and—”
“What planet?” Captain Marlowe asked.
“Huh?”
“The mine. What planet was it on?”
Justin wondered why he was asking that question. Before Carl Andridge’s cronies had decided to let Shannon and Justin leave, they’d made it clear that in no circumstance could they discuss the specifics of what had happened at the mine with anyone.
It was a promise Justin had been glad to make at the time, but in hindsight, he realized it was a huge reach to try to do damage control. For a company as big as ACM, the loss of a single mine on a promising planet wasn’t a monumental defeat, but it wasn’t something they could just paint over in a single stroke, either.
The more Justin had thought about it since it had happened, the more it infuriated him. He recognized his sense of scale was different than that of one of the largest companies in the galaxy—if not the largest—but that didn’t mean they could just erase the memory of what had happened there… erase the lives of all the people who had died in that horrible—
“Justin?” Captain Marlowe broke into his sequence of thoughts. “What planet?”
Justin cleared his throat and glanced again at Arlie’s plasma repeater still pointed at him. ACM had told him not to talk specifics about the incident, but they’d never told him not to say what planet it had all happened on.
“Ketarus-4,” he said.
That got a reaction.
Captain Marlowe’s eyes widened slightly, and Arlie actually leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t lower the repeater, though.
“I knew it,” Captain Marlowe said.
[Shit. What now?]
Justin ignored Keontae and kept silent.
“What happened there?” Captain Marlowe asked.
“I…” Justin glanced at Arlie’s repeater again. “I can’t talk about it. ACM swore me to secrecy under pen—”
“Under penalty of lawsuits, financial ruin, and involuntary suicide.” Captain Marlowe scoffed. “Yeah, I know the drill.”
Justin could tell from his tone that Captain Marlowe wasn’t a fan… or that he was a good actor. Justin didn’t know for sure. He couldn’t know whether Captain Marlowe was actually in bed with ACM or not. For all Justin knew, this could be a trap.
Captain Marlowe seemed to notice Justin’s discomfort. “Relax, kid. I’m not coming after you. Just wanted to know what side you’re on, and if you got out of that mine and off that planet, I know you’re not on ACM’s payroll.”
He nodded at Arlie, who stashed her plasma repeater away.
Justin found he could breathe easy again, and he nodded to Captain Marlowe. “I’m not with them. I never will be again. I’ve worked at a couple other big players as well, and they all give off the same kind of stink.”
“It’s greed, kid. Plain and simple,” Captain Marlowe said. “Copalion is the lifeblood of the Coalition. Take it away, and the Coalition dies, and so do the largest corporations—who control the majority of the galaxy’s wealth. But with copalion in the mix, they’re behemoths feeding on anything and anyone within their grasp.
“Their greed cost you a lot. Friends, you said, and your best friend.” Captain Marlowe nodded at Justin’s right arm. “Cost you physically, too, ’less I’m mistaken and you were born with that.”
“No. Hazard of the job.” Justin shook his head and held up his robotic right hand. He huffed. “And you know, they didn’t even have the integrity, the balls to refer to it as an ‘accident.’ Called it an ‘occurrence’ instead, like it would somehow clear them of all wrongdoing.”
Captain Marlowe’s stern expression curled into a modest grin. “Not much better in the military. When you’re wounded in combat, they give you a medal. If it’s bad enough to end your career, they discharge you with honors. You get
a little pay bump, but it won’t get you very far.
“Then it’s off to the workforce with tens of thousands of other ‘disabled veterans.’ That label’s a death sentence for any hope of a career. Still, we all need jobs, and we all have useful skills, but the market’s flooded, so we either turn criminal and risk everything that way, or we make our own way, scratching and scraping for whatever’s left over.”
Justin nodded. “Exactly. It’s bullshit.”
[Damn right,] Keontae chimed in.
“We bleed for these bastards, and even when we try to get away from ’em, we can’t, ‘cause it turns out we still need ’em. They’re too big for us not to.”
Captain Marlowe reached toward his waist and pulled up his shirt, exposing his torso. An uneven patch of flexible metal mesh stretched from the top of his hip up to his lowest rib. It extended toward his navel and stopped along his side.
“I’ve bled for ’em, just like you did. Just like your friends did,” Captain Marlowe said. “Got sick of bleeding for ’em, so now I just work for ’em as distantly as I can—’cause you can’t ever get away from these giants. Not really. It’s just a matter of how much you can keep ’em outta your life.”
He let his shirt drape over his torso again and glanced at Arlie, and she planted her left leg on the table. She rolled her pant leg up and revealed a gleaming metal shinbone embedded into her skin.
How the doctors had managed to do that sort of thing, Justin would never understand. He figured it wouldn’t and couldn’t have worked, but he also didn’t have a medical degree.
“You were both in the Coalition Forces?” Justin asked.
They both nodded.
“And did stints in private military as well, working for ACM. It’s how we met. Both of us got sent to our deaths on the same mission. Piece of shrapnel tore through my body armor and carved a hole in my side, and Arlie pulled me out of there before I could bleed out. Saved my life, but it cost her a perfectly good shinbone in the process.”
