“What are you looking at?” Jules asked him.
“Nothing,” Nick said, laying the piece of paper flat on his chest.
“I can see the paper, Nick,” she insisted. “What is it?”
“Just a flyer. Space Marines.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” he said, handing her the flyer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”
“If any of it is true,” she replied. “Do you know anyone who’s enlisted?”
“No,” Nick admitted.
“Ever heard of anyone coming back?”
“Why would they want to?” Nick asked. “I’m not going to sign up. It’s just a flyer.”
She looked at the paper, her brows furrowing in a way that Nick recognized to be disbelief. The funny thing was, he knew exactly how she felt. The promises on the brochure sounded amazing, especially compared to their current situation. But when things sounded too good to be true, they usually were. His father had taught him that.
Suddenly he realized something he’d never thought of before. Why was he living out his father’s maxims? What did Nick’s parents have that made him want to follow in their footsteps? He rolled over on his cot, the support bands creaking under his weight. At that moment, he didn’t want Jules to see his face because for the first time in his young life, he was considering that maybe the Space Marines were a viable option. The thought made him smile. He felt like he’d just discovered a secret, and he didn’t want anyone to burst his bubble. Closing his eyes, he imagined what it would be like to walk through a meadow of lush grass barefoot while a stream of cool, clean water flowed past him. He could see his hands filled with dark, rich soil. In his imagination he had a real home, and his table was piled with fresh vegetables, baked treats, and roasted meat—not protein substitute or flavored soy, but actual meat. He’d tasted real meat just one time in his life, and he had dreamed of it ever since.
That night, Nick slept better than he expected. His bank account was nearly empty and his situation bleak, but in his dreams all of that was changing. And when he woke up, his mind was settled; all that remained was to convince his friends to come with him.
Chapter 3
“Proxy Marines?” Kal said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” Nick said. “Look at the flyer.”
“I don’t care what that thing says,” Kal argued. “I don’t plan on dying for a bunch of egghead Proxy. You know the PMC is suicide, right?”
“No, I don’t know that,” Nick replied. “What I do know is that if we stay here, we’re going to end up just like our parents.”
They were standing just outside the dormitory under a thin awning. Rain was falling, and the two friends had their hands buried deep in the pockets of their overcoats. Nick knew that he needed Kal’s support. The rest of the group would tag along if Nick and Kal were interested in something. Everyone had their own opinions, but Kal was a natural skeptic. He didn’t like or trust the Proxy, no matter what their teachers said about the galactic travelers.
“You don’t know that,” Kal argued.
“I know how much money we made after working non-stop all week. At this rate, it really will take a century just to get out of the dorm.”
“Not if we pool our money,” Kal said. “The way we planned, remember?”
“I do remember,” Nick argued.
“We’re going north. The mountains are less crowded. We’ll find work.”
“And how will that be any different than it is here?”
“We won’t have to pay union dues, for one thing,” Kal said.
“The union is the only reason we make a living wage. If we go north, we might not be able to earn enough money to live on.”
“That’s an urban myth, dude.”
“And you know this how?” Nick let the question hang a moment. “If the opportunities were better outside the city, more people would leave this craphole. Come on, Kal—all I’m asking is that we hear the recruiter out.”
“And what happens if we enlist and they split us up? We might never see each other again.”
“We hardly see each other now,” Nick replied. “We work twelve-hour days. That doesn’t leave much time for socializing. And we don’t have money to do anything outside the dorms, anyway. The food is terrible and the conditions are worse. Sooner or later, someone is going to get hurt or sick—and then what will we do?”
“We’ll look out for each other, the way we always have.”
“Look, if we stay here—and if we’re ultra-conservative—we might be able to save enough credits to purchase a tiny apartment in fifty or sixty years. That’s only if nothing happens and we live like monks for decades.”
“I know that,” Kal said. “But it’s better than being dead.”
“The term of enlistment with the PMC is five years. If we get through five years together, they not only take us to Elysium, but we’ll have saved more money than we could have saved slaving here for a century. I know it’s a risk, but it’s worth taking.”
“It won’t be if someone dies.”
“The Proxy have the best medical facilities in the galaxy,” Nick argued. “Food, money, a future...if it’s half as good as it sounds, I’m doing it.”
“You’ve already made up your mind?”
“I won’t end up like this, Kal. I can’t check scalding hot bottle caps for decades, man. I’ll go crazy.”
“You’ll get a promotion.”
“There are a hundred guys with more experience who think the same thing.”
“They don’t have your skills, Nick. You’re the smartest dude I know.”
“And the managers don’t care how much you know—it’s all about who you know. We didn’t get into college, which means we’ll never be more than shift supervisors. No matter how lucky we get, we’ll never have the opportunity to do more than just scrape by. The game is rigged on Earth, Kal. We both know it.”
“And the risk increases a hundredfold if we leave,” Kal replied. “We have to give this a little more time. It will all work out. You’ll see.”
Nick followed Kal back into the dorm. He wouldn’t force his friend to join him or press the others to choose sides. Nick had meant what he said: he couldn’t stay. But if Kal was opposed to going, Nick would do it alone and quietly, without telling the others.
They walked around a corner and suddenly found themselves face-to-face with three big men. One of the men had gloves on with metal studs on the knuckles, and another had a thick, white scar that ran from his right temple to his jaw.
“Been looking for you two,” the man with the scar said. “Yesterday was payday. You owe the Syndicate a weekly security fee. A hundred creds each.”
“What are you talking about?” Kal asked.
The scar-faced man grinned, showing a mouthful of jumbled, rotting teeth. “Show him what I’m talking about, Richie.”
The man with the metal knuckles moved fast. He stepped toward Kal and threw a punch at the dark-skinned boy’s stomach. It wasn’t the first fistfight Nick and Kal had been in; there were plenty of fights in school. Kal reacted to the aggression without much thought. He twisted out of the path of the blow and shoved the man away.
The third man in the group wore a red bandana over his balding head. He tried to grab Nick, but the younger man stepped back, bringing up his hands to protect his face as the scar-faced man threw a looping punch. Nick caught the punch on his arm, then countered with a quick jab at the man’s nose. The jab landed. It wasn’t a hard punch, but the scar-faced man stumbled back.
Kal and Nick didn’t wait to see what the three men would do. They turned and ran, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and their attackers.
“What the hell was that about?” Kal whispered furiously.
“The Syndicate?” Nick asked. “You ever heard of that?”
“Only on television,” Kal replied. “I barely got a hundred credits after all the fees, dues, and deductions.�
�
“Same. But we can’t hide from those goons forever.”
They were in an alcove just off the stairwell. Nick knew it wouldn’t take the men long to find them, and his instincts told him they wouldn’t give up. The “protection money” the men were extorting from Nick and Kal would put a major dent in their plans to get out of the dorms.
“So what do we do?” Kal asked. “I ain’t paying for protection from criminals.”
“They’ll rough us up if we don’t,” Nick said. “I doubt the security force cares too much about us.”
“Let’s get back upstairs before those guys corner everyone else.”
Nick led the way. They climbed four flights of stairs to reach the open dorm that was their home. As they walked into the big open room, half the beds were still occupied. Ty sat on his own cot, rubbing his eyes as Jules and Ember came out of the bathroom together. Nick and Kal hurried to join them.
“Get up,” Nick told Ty.
“I am, I am—don’t rush me.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jules asked as the two girls approached.
“Have any of you been asked for money from a group of rough-looking guys?” Nick asked.
The looks of the others expressed exactly what Nick was feeling: they couldn’t afford to pay anyone. Working so hard for just a pittance was difficult and depressing—but working for nothing was unthinkable.
“Hell, no,” Ty replied.
“Well, we just were,” Kal confessed. “Three big guys. One had metal knuckles.”
“What did you do?” Ember asked.
“We fought them off and ran for it,” Nick said. “But they’ll be back.”
“What did they want?” Jules asked.
“A hundred creds each,” Kal said. “They called it protection money.”
“Protection from who?” Ty asked. “Sounds like we need protection from them.”
“It’s extortion,” Jules said. “We should go to the security office.”
“And tell them what? That three bullies are trying to steal our money?” Nick asked.
“That’s exactly what we should tell them,” Jules argued.
“There they are!” came an angry shout from across the dorm.
The voice of the scar-faced man was unmistakable, even though his nose was clogged with blood from Nick’s jab. The entire group of friends turned, looking at the approaching trio of thugs. Ty was the biggest member of the group. When he stood up, his broad shoulders strained against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Nick saw a look of doubt suddenly cloud the eyes of the three older men approaching them. They no longer had the advantage of outnumbering Nick and Kal.
“The Syndicate gets paid,” the scar-faced man said when he was just ten feet away from Nick and his friends. “Everyone knows it. We collect every other week. A hundred cred or you wind up dead.”
“That’s extortion,” Jules said. “We’ll report you to the security office.”
“You do that, love,” the man said with a grin that showed his rotten teeth. “Tell inspector Quidby that his old friend Amos says hello.”
“We can’t afford a hundred cred a week,” Kal complained. “We won’t have anything left if we pay you.”
“Well, that’s too bad, kid. You’re breaking my heart.”
“We won’t pay,” Nick stated, his heart thundering away in his chest.
“Oh, you’ll pay. You won’t always be together. Get the credits, or the next time we meet, I’ll take the payment right out of your mangy hide, boy.” He swiped his nose and left a bloody streak across his face. “I owe you one, that’s for certain. And I won’t forget.”
They turned and left the dormitory. Nick was filled with so much anger that his hands were shaking. He knew they were in trouble. The man had been right: they couldn’t stay together all the time, not when they worked in different factories in different parts of the city.
“What do we do now?” Ember asked as they sat down on two of their narrow cots, facing one another.
“Nick’s got an idea,” Kal said. “Why don’t you tell them what you were telling me?”
“You mean the PMC?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, I think maybe you were right...things don’t look so good around here, and I don’t think they’ll get better any time soon.”
“PMC?” Ty asked. “As in the military?”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “I think maybe it’s worth checking out.”
Chapter 4
The recruiting station was a small storefront on the ground floor of a dingy public housing building. The five friends opened the glass front door that was covered with posters showing Proxy military personnel in action scenes on exotic worlds. Nick was fairly certain the pictures were fake, but they did inspire a sense of adventure that sent a thrill through him as he stepped into the office. A man in a nice-fitting shirt with the PMC logo printed neatly on the front stood up and came around his small desk. He stuck out a hand and greeted the friends.
“Morning,” he said. “Welcome to the Peregrinantes Military Corps recruiting office. I’m Sal Bernard. What are your names?”
“I’m Nick. This is Kal, Jules, Ty, and Ember.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I take it you’re interested in joining the PMC—that’s excellent. No better organization for humans in the system, I can attest to that. Are you all at least eighteen?”
The group of friends nodded.
“Let me guess: they stuck you in the Unskilled Labor Union,” Sal said, shaking his head sadly. “There was a time when men and women had a choice of vocation in this world. Well, at least in the PMC you’ll get paid a decent wage and have opportunities. I assume you all know about Elysium.”
“We’ve heard of it,” Kal said. “Does it really exist?”
“Of course it does. The Peregrinantes were captivated by human mythology. They named Elysium after the paradise created by the gods for human heroes who gained entrance through bravery and great deeds. It’s only fitting that after you’ve served a full enlistment term that you earn passage to a verdant world. Elysium has breathable atmosphere and ideal climate conditions. Three quarters of the planet’s landmasses are undeveloped. You can homestead and farm, or you can take a job in one of the cities. It’s a land of opportunity, where you can thrive and create a legacy.”
“If you survive the enlistment,” Jules said. “We’re not talking about working on a mining ship. The Proxy need us because they can’t fight their own battles.”
“Well, that isn’t exactly the case. The truth is, the Peregrinantes have made some enemies. They are travelers and traders, but not every species they encounter are as open-minded as humanity. Some are hostile, that is true. But the Peregrinantes are smart and wealthy; they outfit the PMC with the best equipment, armor, and weapons in the galaxy, the training is top-notch, and they have medical enhancements that are worth millions of credits alone. Each recruit is valued. They represent a significant investment, which means you aren’t just cannon fodder—no matter what the rumors say. The PMC is a good job and a great opportunity for a better life.”
“I was reading about the food,” Nick said, prompting the recruiter.
“How about real meat?” Sal said. “During your basic training on Bentex Seven, you’ll have fresh food. Fruit, vegetables, meat, dairy—everything grown and raised on-planet from earth seeds. Nothing modified, nothing substituted. It’s the real deal.”
“If that’s the case,” Ty asked, “how come you ain’t in the Corps?”
“I was,” Sal said. “I enlisted, at any rate. But a genetic defect made it impossible for me to join the PMC proper. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice. The Peregrinantes didn’t just reject me, however. Like I said, they’re smart and gracious. I was given the opportunity to work for them in a different capacity.”
“What’s the pay for enlisted personnel?” Ember asked.
“Base rate is fifty-two thousand credits a month, with bonuses for rank and div
ision. The best part is, since you’re out of system, there’s no taxes. No union dues, no banking fees. You keep what you earn—that’s the Peregrinantes’ way. There’s even a signing bonus right now. A hundred thousand credits, which you can keep or assign to a loved one here on Earth. If you pass the physical and mental entrance exams, you can report as soon as tomorrow.”
“Can we stay together, Mr. Bernard?” Nick asked. “That’s important to us.”
“If you enlist together,” Sal said, “you’ll go through basic training together. From there, you’ll have options depending on your aptitude. If you want to stay together and serve in the same unit, it’s very likely you’ll be able to do that.”
“Likely,” Kal said. “But not guaranteed.”
“No,” Sal said. “The truth is, some of you may have opportunities to go into more exclusive divisions. That’s just the way things work. The PMC is a meritocracy. But, if you all qualify for the same assignment, you have the option to join together.”
“There are different divisions?” Jules asked.
“Oh, sure. Different systems require different equipment and training. Just look at our own solar system; you couldn’t just land a drop ship on Venus. The gravity would crush the ship and all the people on board. It can be overcome, obviously, but the equipment that works on Venus won’t work on Mars, so there are divisions for different environments.”
“What are the entrance exams like?” Ty asked.
“Physical is a simple scan. Takes five minutes and I do them here in the office,” Sal said. “Then there’s a written and verbal test to ensure that you’re mentally sufficient to serve. If you graduated high school, then it’s really just a formality. Takes half an hour. Give me two hours of your time—we’ll run you through the entrance exams and then you’ll know for sure if this is an option for all of you. If you decide to enlist, I do the paperwork. We can even order in some food. When was the last time the five of you had takeout?”
Dragon Team Seven Page 2
