by Casey Herzog
As the foreman finished yelling at the boy in front of him, his eyes roved the production floor for a fresh victim, and Peter was staring mindlessly at him. That was all it took for the man to rush across the cavernous space, shouting at everyone to clear a path. Peter knew he had been singled out, but didn’t move a muscle.
Peter had no memory of what the foreman had said. The shouting was terrifying and utterly incoherent. The man shook his body, then gripped his head tightly, his hands like some terrible vice. He forced Peter to look at the conveyor belt, the chunks of white diamond rock he had let slip past him in his moment of mindlessness.
All the other children had stopped working, and watched with utter passivity as the foreman ordered the conveyor belt to be cranked up to full speed. The rocks began to jump and bounce. When they left the conveyor, they shot out like bullets from a machine gun. The foreman kept his tight vice-like hands on Peter’s face and forced his body to bend, turning his face so that his right cheek hovered just over the whirring rubber machine.
Peter screamed. In desperation, Peter forced his lungs to work, letting out a strange strangled noise that sounded like the cry of some wraith from folklore. He screamed to wake himself up, to force his body out of the rigor mortis of sleep and away from the frightful memory that had left its mark on his face as well as his mind.
As control of his body came back to him, Peter thrashed and pushed himself up, throwing off the blanket that covered him. He sat up, chest heaving and body sweating like he had just finished a marathon. His eyes were wide and unfocused. The dark around him was too much like the dark of those claustrophobic pits he had been forced to toil in. He needed reassurance, some positive sign that he was not still there, that he really had come out of that dark abyss.
“Peter?
A familiar and gentle voice lilted through the dark, feminine and reassuring. He turned his head towards it, trying to make out the figure in the dark. “Nisha…is that you?”
“Yeah, course it is.” She sounded a little incredulous, but the softness quickly returned to her voice. “Bad dream?”
Peter wiped his face, disgusted to find it slick and damp. Immediately, he began to shake his hand to rid himself of the clammy sweat that clung to him. “Yeah, something along those lines.”
“You still get them?”
“Still?” Peter turned and looked at Nisha’s outline in the dark. “How did you know?”
“We may not have shared dorms growing up, but we still grew up together. The guys told us about all the times you’d wake up. I hear you were even given your own private room at one point. Most of us were pretty angry about that; thought you were making up the dreams so you could get more stuff for yourself.” The girl’s outline moved, and she seemed to slip out from under the sheet of her bed, sitting upright.
It was funny to think that before coming out into the solar void, Peter had been a pariah among those he worked with. He still recalled how frosty Nisha had been with him before he had helped save her during an EVA mishap on route to Mars.
“Hey, if you’re not going to sleep, take it into the corridor.” The voice of one of the others in their cramped bunk chimed in. The voice sounded irritable, and Peter honestly couldn’t blame them.
“You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll just go for a walk and clear my head.” Peter eased himself out of his bunk and began to shuffle towards the doors. He had slept in his uniform as the others had to do, and so there was no need to dress.
Nisha yawned and Peter assumed she would settle back down to sleep. However, the raven-haired girl pulled herself out of bed and shuffled after him into the corridor.
Despite the beauty of Europa’s surface, Europa colony itself was a bleak place to call home. Buried deep into the moon’s ice-covered surface, the place offered no vistas or windows out onto the world. The only view to be had was the thick lead lined walls that worked, in conjunction with the thick sheet ice, to fight off the deadly radiation from Jupiter’s magnetosphere. After the nightmare he had just been forced to relive, it didn’t comfort Peter to reflect on how similar this base seemed to his memories of the diamond mines. He even half expected to see small holes dug into the walls for the children to crawl through.
Nisha followed Peter like some attentive pet dog as he began to walk up and down the corridors. She didn’t hassle him with questions or force conversation. She just stayed with him and walked where he walked. Peter was grateful for her thoughtfulness, but felt he owed it to her to try and create some semblance of conversation.
“It’s weird to wake up and find a girl sleeping in the opposite cot.” It was not much of a conversation starter, but it would do.
“I’m sure the Commanders will find time to sort our sleeping arrangements in time. I don’t think it's high on anyone’s priorities, but it’s not like the Europans made any space for us.” Nisha put a hand to her mouth as she yawned.
They were headed in the direction of the colony’s main food hall. As they drew near it, they noticed more of the Europan residents milling about or walking by. Combined with the rounds of Unity guards in body armor, and the narrow passages felt extremely claustrophobic. It was not long before Nisha was forced to peel away from Peter’s side and walk behind him.
The mess hall was filled with Europans eating in an oppressive silence. It was extremely off putting, and as Peter walked over to the coffee machine, he noticed many sets of eyes following him. He was used to attention from strangers. His mild celebrity on Earth had followed him into space, so it was possible the Europans were simply taking a gander at the boy from the slave pits who made it into space. Even so, the looks he and Nisha received as they walked among the Europans seemed loaded with something else. It was such a strange feeling. Peter barely noticed the coffee machine as he grabbed a cup for himself and Nisha.
“Hey!” one of the older Europan men stood up from his seat and pointed a thin white finger at Peter. “You!”
All at once, every person in the mess hall seemed to freeze in place like mannequins. Their muscles tensed, their eyes darted about and a sense of ominous foreboding hung thick in the air. Peter felt at once that he should try his best to diffuse the tension, not wanting to see the wedge between the Europans and his team widen. “Yes, sir, can I help you.” He used his most courteous tone of voice and made sure to turn his body so he was giving the man his full attention.
The man seemed momentarily disarmed, his pointed finger wavering. His lips drew thin and he lowered his hands to rest on the table in two closed fists. “Coffee is rationed!” A few nods were seen from among those sitting at the tables around the man, though none gave vocal ascent to their fellow’s words. Meanwhile, the five guards from the Unity posted in the room held their weapons a little tighter in their grasp.
“I understand,” Peter said. “I’ll make sure I only have the one then?” He began to turn back to the machine, but the stranger’s voice stopped him again.
“Wrong. It’s one coffee a day for those of us posted to Europa colony. Our supply shipments from Earth do not cover an additional sixty people coming in and sharing our ration pile.” The man had dark green eyes, and even from a distance, Peter noticed his pupils were dilated. Though he was putting on a show of strength, maybe even defiance, there was a definite sense of fear in the man. Even his arms shook slightly.
Peter looked longingly at the coffee machine, but then inclined his head in a nod for Nisha to follow him and moved to the water cooler instead. He made a show of letting the man see him pouring out two cups of plain chilled water. Passing one to Nisha, he began to walk quietly through the crowds of people and chose a seat in the middle of the mess, right among the Europan miners. Nisha looked more than a little nervous as she followed him, but made no complaint.
The man who had challenged them remained standing for a few moments after Peter and Nisha had sat down. His hands remained balled up into fists, but the attempted show of rage and indignation had gone from his face. Now
there was just bemused confusion. He had likely hoped to make some kind of stand, show himself a martyred hero for his fellow miners, and now, he had been robbed of the chance. Eventually, a woman sat next to him, pulled on his sleeve and encouraged him to sit back down again.
Nisha blew out a sigh of relief then downed half her water in a single go. “Who would have known liberating the Outer Solar System from the Secessionists would feel so rewarding,” she whispered.
Peter smirked and began to look around him to the other nearby miners. He wanted to find one, just one who looked like they might be open to talking. In the end, he focused on a young fresh-faced man who looked no more than twenty. “You must be fairly new to the station yourself.”
The young man jumped in his chair as if Peter had given him an electric shock, and his eyes darted in every conceivable direction as though searching for some trap or hidden danger that might suddenly jump out at him. Though the conversation was just between him and Peter, many ears were listening in. “Newly transferred from Earth. Came over on one of the long haulers carrying luxury goods to the system.”
Peter nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He really didn’t care who the guy was, but he had to seem interested. It was a talent a lifetime under the media’s spotlight had honed to perfection. “Interesting. What made you choose Europa, or were you assigned for a special skill?”
The young man gave an awkward embarrassed smile. “Well, Europa was both my first choice and where Earth wanted to assign me. It was a win all around really.” The man seemed to shuffle a little closer along the bench, clearly aware that their conversation was being eavesdropped on. “I specialize in hydrological concerns, so Europa, Ganymede or Enceladus on Saturn were all strong candidates for my posting.”
Peter nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t try for Ganymede. Further out from Jupiter’s radiation belt, far more hospitable.”
“Far more impact craters and meteor strikes,” the man corrected.
Peter smiled. “A fair point. So, what’s your name?”
“Christian,” the man extended a hand tentatively, and Peter was quick to take it.
“Well, this is Nisha Goswami, and I’m-“
“-Oh you need no introduction. Even without that massive scar, your face is legend out here.”
“Thanks.” Peter spoke in a flat tone, and he noticed the uncomfortable look Nisha gave at the man’s words.
“I mean, I didn’t mean to say the scar is that noticeable. It really isn’t that bad. I just meant that people know you because of it…well-“
Peter raised a hand for him to stop. “It’s okay, quit trying to explain there before you dig yourself an even deeper hole.” He flashed a smile and ran a hand through his jet-black hair.
For the next half hour, Peter tried to make conversation with as many of Europans in the mess as he could convince to talk. Christian was a sure thing, asking all the kinds of questions journalists on Earth asked Peter every time he was made to do an interview: what was it like working in the Diamond mines? Would you have died if the Earth League forces didn’t rescue you? Do you still keep in touch with Sergeant Denver? They were the kinds of questions that made Peter’s skin crawl. He put on his best camera face though and slowly, more of the members of Europa colony gathered around him to hear his story.
As time went on, Peter tried his luck at taking the attention off himself and putting it on those who had been listening to him. He began asking about the operations on Europa, peoples’ experiences and ways to have fun on the base. Soon, a wholesale discussion took hold with some of the colonists peeling off to talk to Nisha. It was encouraging, and Peter hoped the simple act might open up both the colonists and his own people to a more respectful coexistence.
It was only when Peter made his excuses to leave, reminding Nisha that they were eating up their rest period, that he noted the two dissenting faces that stared at him. The first was the pasty skinned man who had first called him out over the coffee. He sat with a small party of friends who appeared to be trying to keep his mood in check. He flashed irritated glances at Peter, but as soon as he was spotted, his eyes retreated back to the table. The other pair of eyes came from the tall slender Martian who stood on guard with spear in hand. She too seemed annoyed, though Peter could not tell just what it was that upset her. Had it been his friendly banter with the Europans, or was she still sore about their previous conversation? Either way, he was determined to ignore both irked glances as he wandered out of the mess hall and back to his temporary bunk.
CHAPTER 10
Slowly, cautiously, the crews of Europa station and the crew of the Unity started to come together. It was not an easy process and both sides seemed to accept that tensions would continue to arise between them. However, both sides seemed more open to communication. The Europans, who at first never seemed to express their frustrations except in the mess hall outbursts, began to open up about their grievances. Meanwhile, the Unity crew began to soften toward the Europans, seeing them more as colleagues than prisoners under guard. It was an encouraging start, and with this newfound spirit of cooperation came a return to productivity for the station.
While the Unity crew had been placed on Europa to oversee the facility’s production lines, many began to chip in with the day-to-day running of the facility. While roving patrols of guards continually roamed the corridors of the facility, there was always a handful of Unity cohort standing by to assist in station operations. This, Alphred pointed out, was good for their image, making them seem far more like liberators sent to help, than a police force ready to crack the whip to ensure targets were made. Commander Icarus did not seem to fully agree with Alphred’s rosy outlook, but he made no comment against it. As long as the peace between the Unity cohort and the Europans continued, he had no real cause to complain.
Peter couldn’t help but feel smug. He knew better than to say it was he alone who ushered in the spirit of cooperation and understanding between the two crews. Even so, he liked to think that it was his actions in the mess hall that kindled the spark of friendship. As he watched the Europans help make space in odd corners of the facility for new bunks, and as he witnessed his own people helping man the water purifiers and fisheries, he felt a real sense of pride. It had been some time since he had felt this way. It was the first time since Mars that he had felt truly comfortable in his Unity uniform. Once more, he felt like he was doing something valuable for the Solar System, not just running rough shod across it.
Waking up, Peter slipped out of bed and dug out a fresh uniform from his footlocker. Since the Europans had helped set up new quarters, he no longer had to sleep in co-ed conditions, though now there was a very loud pipe next to his bed that made an array of sounds through the night to disturb his rest. He made sure not to complain though. In the washroom, he practiced his smile as he tried to tame his thick black hair. He had taken it upon himself to be an ever-friendly face to the Europans, and he needed to keep it up. While Nisha and a number of others had been busy making friends in the colony, the majority of issues the Europans had always seemed to be voiced to him first. It seemed the Europans had come to see him as their intermediary, and Peter was not going to complain as long as it helped keep the peace.
Arriving at the central control hub, Peter found Alphred and Icarus already hard at work. The two were stooped over a table reading various data feeds and listening closely to Icarus’ second, Lauren. The girl had shown herself adept at managerial tasks, and while neither of the cohort leaders admitted it, she had basically taken over the running of the facility.
“Morning, you all look hard at work.” Peter yawned and sidled up next to Alphred. That his commander answered him with little more than a grunt was adequate confirmation.
“We’re preparing for our first run of supplies off planet,” Lauren answered. “We’ve got a surplus of shipping containers ready to reach the other moons and stations on Jupiter, so it’s high time we look to getting it off world.”
“Tall order,” Peter admitted.
“Our main concern is in ensuring the cargo is not intercepted by Secessionist forces.” Icarus’ arms were folded across his chest, and he seemed to be brooding. Peter frowned, noticing that the commander still insisted on wearing a sword on his belt at all times. Peter wondered if Icarus really was expecting trouble from the Europans still or simply enjoyed having a weapon strapped to his side.
“Are we really expecting trouble? I thought the bulk of the Secessionist forces were being chased across the system in shuttles.”
Alphred blew out his cheeks. “The Secessionists still hold Ganymede and Io. There are ways they could intercept us if they are clever.”
Peter nodded. As it seemed the other commanders were completely absorbed in the issue, he decided to leave them to it and picked up his work docket for the day: guard duty in the water purification center.
Duty rosters were fluid things, and as long as you could work things out with the others on duty, you could always share your shift with the people you liked. For Peter, that invariably meant Nisha. He didn’t even have to ask her, she had already swapped her guard shift in the mess in order to share Peter’s shift. While Peter did not like to use the word ‘replace,’ Nisha’s friendship had been a great help in filling the void left by Minerva since she had turned into a volatile ice queen. Along with Julian Crookes, a friendly enough member of Neptune cohort, the day’s shift promised to be tolerably easy. It certainly beat planning flight paths and trajectories for cargo freighters in the command center.
