by M E Wise
The Big Load must be bugged! I have never told anyone about my plans to buy a ship. “Way to talk out loud Itou!” I yelled. Who cares! At this point she knew way more than how much I talk to myself. Dude, there’s so much more she knows if she has video and audio! So much for intimate privacy. Getting into Martian territory was tricky enough without lugging black tech through Orbital Guard tour zones. I suppose that’s the point. Halfers out here can be desperate; I know too well. In spite of this I sent the confirmation code.
Romania used a randomizer to create codes for communication, it was embedded in the audio and video. Which is how I found her in the first place, snatching wayward signals in space. I ran a few encryption readers on the digital source and sure enough the two-part code was there. New You: wasn’t even a subtle attempt to camouflage her desires. Maybe I put so much effort into helping Romania because of this need to get a second chance. A new me wasn’t the worst thing that could happen! I gave up on analyzing myself years ago after playing SIMS for two years straight!
Gently drifting about my cabin was getting really old. Balloons can be entertaining but they don’t have jobs to do. Fixing the magnetic gravity ring was a definitive priority. The bug could wait; it didn’t change anything now. The panel to the gravity generator had a strange wear to it. I don’t remember working on it yet? The panel popped off and drifted loosely away. Seriously! I thought loudly to myself. Wires were rerouted into a black box looking device. The bug was the system jarring anomaly that caused all of my current problems. Whoever did this, knew where they wanted it but didn’t know what would happen once it met a surge. That surge nearly docked The Big Load for an extended time.
I carefully removed the device intact and sat it up on my pilot controls. I slid into the pilot seat and gave it a giant thumb up! “No need to hide anymore you peeping tom!” I said to the lens. I went back to work on my gravity generator, which was now an easy fuse problem. I braced myself as I reconnected the wires inside. The generator grinded into motion and soon enough I lowered to the floor. “I’m so handy!” I sang out loud.
Creeping up on Deimos was a giant relief. The Big Load wasn’t fast to begin with but with the aging systems failing left and right I coasted along very fearful of being discovered. Some tricks and travel knowledge helped keep me off most radars though. Dropping random beacons out in space also helped. Give a drone a little fuel and an errant flight path, program a simple rescue message into them, and you have a nice decoy.
Mars’ smallest moon was really more of a hunk of rock stuck in orbit than moon- ignoring definitions of course. I could relate really! I’d love someone to try and define me. It was 2103 and I was a Halfer creeping up on another birthday at 27 in deep space. As long as I keep moving, I don’t mind being less than significant. A shimmering object on the surface caught my attention. The location was right and part one of this little story was almost accomplished. A ran a landing sequence and began my approach. There was no contact or signal of anything or anyone nearby to prevent pickup. This was a boringly easy risk.
I extended the towing claw and had the freighter car attached in minutes without a problem. “Seriously Ben, this is a smooth run.” I really need to stop talking out loud. Really, am I going to do disagree with myself? I initialized takeoff and it was time to take the preplanned trek back to the trans-Neptunian belt.
“Big Load to Romanus V: We have open channel.” I sent out a bulletin and several buoys looking for my recipient.
“Confirmed Big Load.” I knew the voice, it was Romania. “We can make the exchange in person.”
“Sure thing!” So far so good. I didn’t have much of a reason to completely trust Romania but I also didn’t have many not to. We both are probably tired of hiding.
I released the freighter car as the Romanus V had engaged their locking clamps. Now I was getting a little nervous, maneuvering to make airlock on the much nicer vessel. Whoever Romania really was, she was doing well for herself. Unless she worked for someone else then they were doing very well. Unless they too worked for someone else; well the point is someone was doing well. Anxiety makes a strange co-pilot.
I cleared the first airlock and waited between vessels for a green light on the wall to allow me access to the Romanus V. “I’m armed. Just to make that abundantly clear.” Romania said over the intercom. This is it Ben. You’re going to die in deep space far away from home because you got foolish enough to stop caring. The door slid open and I closed my eyes tight. Nothing happened. I opened one eye and looked around the tight corridor into the Romanus V. “Nice!” It was a top of the line luxury runner. The exterior paid her no favors. In Romania’s case it must be intended.
Romania walked around the corner with a gun strapped on her very curvy hip. Her exterior did her many favors! Also intended. She was tall with an hour glass frame. Her hair was streaked white and black and pulled back sleekly on her head. Her eyes flickered in the light from obvious implants or electronic lenses. She was hot in an intimidating dominatrix sort of way. “Benito?” She asked curtly. “Benjamin Edison Itou.” She corrected.
“Either you are a psychic or you have great research skills.” I valued an intelligent woman.
“I keep track of all my clientele. There isn’t a Halfer in space that hasn’t benefited from my help.” Romania moved to a panel nearby and ran a full local scan on The Big Load. “That thing won’t run forever.” She made an obvious assessment.
“How is it Halfer’s owe you?” The question seemed appropriate. Romania grinned in response.
“Someone has to hold the cards.” She sauntered down the hallway and I followed happily. I get the feeling she wasn’t referring to playing cards.
The bridge of this ship had plush fabric and seamless panel work. And real wood! Romania had excellent taste in decorum. I admired the mahogany framed built-in sofa. “Ever wonder how it is that Halfer’s such as yourself make it into space? I’m that reason.” Could it be true? A network for such an operation would have to be much deeper than just one person. She noticed my questioning look. “Am I the only part of the puzzle? You’re asking yourself.” She flowed across the room confidently.
“I was born with a once incurable disease. My parents were immensely wealthy and could afford all of the therapy to prevent me from a life in a chair, contorted and a prisoner of my own self.” Her words rang with the choir. “I was a college girl who didn’t want to be a college girl when I first learned about Halfers.” Romania patrolled the deck. “It was a protest. A protest within a protest. And all hell broke loose.” Early Halfer paranoia caused an unsettling community division. Riots often sprang from protests between people divided on what it all meant. “As educated and privileged people fought each other in the streets I retreated into the virtual world. And the endless potential to connect beyond our limitations was incredibly appealing. Someone like that could change things quickly!”
Now I understood her Tekker angle but that had little to do with the vanity issues. “So why the dazzling getup?” I asked as pleasantly as I could. She didn’t flinch. “People are completely superficial; even when they avidly say they aren’t. The greater the protestor the more profoundly laced their guilt.” Romania had a point. More importantly she understood.
“So Tech-Lady, why bring me into your confidence?” She had to have an angle in this too.
“I trust you are the kind of person who needed to hear it.” I thought for a moment she was being facetious but she was completely serious. She wanted only to give me the opportunity to know her. That’s a huge leap of faith. “I’ve watched you. I’ve listened in. You are at the end of your rope.” Again Romania was poignant in her observations. I didn’t have anything to add. She had the cards and knew where the deck was stacked. “Thank you.” I said to her earnestly. Romania walked over to me and lowered my hood. She leaned in and kissed my cheek.
Nothing else was said. She escorted me to the airlock and I was on my
way.
“And that’s it!” The large bearded trooper demanded. “Romania and you had some silly pity party!” He stood hellishly tall over me.
Romania had barely disappeared from my sensors when an Orbital Guard Cruiser charged after me. Apparently I was caught up in some serious crap! Before I knew it, I was apprehended. The Cruiser rendezvoused with the flagship Stonewall and a lurch of a man named Pri was kicking my ass and linking me to some intergalactic human trafficking ring. I had way too many petty infractions adding up into one colossal shit-stack.
“Helping Halfer’s violate international and common space is a violation of the law. Not only are you a Halfer violating this knowingly but you are helping traffic these people further into space!” He pounded my face as much as he pounded the table. His rounded glasses revealed my bruised and bloodied face. I honestly didn’t have anything I could tell him. I don’t think he cared though, this was something he enjoyed. His breath was thick with a liquored taint. “One more time son; what are the encryption codes for contacting or finding the wanted criminal known as Romania the Patron?”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “The Patron!” I howled. “Benito the Bold, would never give up the Patron!” I yelled valiantly. The large man responded with yet another slug in the head. A sophisticated type of man came in behind him and they bickered. Several guards began scuffling with the larger trooper as he flailed them about listlessly. They eventually escorted him from the room as he relented on his own. How does someone like that get any position of authority?
“I am the Vice Admiral of Science. You may call me Dr. Molnar.” The shriveled man lauded himself. “Welcome to my lab!” He seemed almost gleeful. “Let me first address your situation more clearly. You are currently a man without citizenship in the great expanse of the Milky Way. It is our sovereign duty to detain any and all illegal aliens for the safety of our legal and documented people. You have only yourself to blame really.” He sat daintily down across from me. “Should you cooperate; in your current delimitated legal predicament, coupled with your unfortunate failing health, we may see to it that your next of kin receive your corpse, or ashes should that be your custom, because we both know you will not survive to see this end in any romantic sense.”
“That’s kind of you bro.” I said licking blood from my lip. Who were these assholes? Seriously what deranged society would unleash such people on the populace-enemy or not?
“I assure you, we are not brethren!” He replied angrily but reserved. He stood and straightened his tunic. As he exited the room, two troopers came in and placed a bag over my head and dragged me down several halls into a detention portion of the Lab. They removed my hood and the brightly lit area was very clinical. The heavy plastic dorms were as sparse as they could be. A folded jumpsuit sat on the bed/bench combo. “Strip and change.” Ordered an angry escort.
A beautiful redheaded doctor was with the men. “I am Dr. O’Shea.” She said nicely. I tried to cover myself and felt ashamed. She was considerate enough to avert most of her stares. “I have to document your current condition and take your vitals. Please cooperate!” She was sincere for having such a part in this scenario. I turned around to face the wall and held my arms out to mimic her demonstrations. She took some notes on her tablet. “Turn please.” I was mortified but I complied. The doctor took her notes and nodded to the jumpsuit so that I could end this embarrassing ordeal.
I dressed as they sealed me into the room. The Lab containment ward was empty. I felt incredibly sorry for myself. Who would tell Paps what happened? Does anyone know what happened! “I’m a fucking idiot!” I squatted to the floor.
Weeks went by. Dr. Molnar never visited me again, but the pretty Dr. O’Shea made daily rounds. She didn’t talk much and was always escorted. I wondered how someone so lovely got involved with such a bunch of despicable people. I probably would never know. It was my birthday; I was 28. I laid on the slab of a bed bored and listless like I had for the last month or so and waited for the lights to come on and get my protein shake breakfast on. That’s goodness! The lights came on but were accompanied by four guards lugging in some unconscious man. It was the big bastard who beat my ass. “Well Happy Birthday!” I said out-loud. They ditched him in a cell catty-cornered from mine. He was evidently drunken and completely passed-out. They never brought me my breakfast shake.
I waited; and with no real way to tell time, stared out into the view of Mars outside. We had an apparent tour-line up and down the heavy shipping lanes around the red planet. It was like watching a boring news special on space commerce. It was better than staring into the clear plastic and opulently white walls. Watching Pri sleep was unsettling at best.
The ward doors were locked with a panel in a podium by the entrance, and before someone walked through, it would make a tone. That tone sounded now like earlier and Dr. Molnar and Dr. O’Shea hurried past my cell. Several guards crowded the pathway between cells. An ICU containment tank rolled in upright like some hand-carted freight. I couldn’t see the occupant. Why would someone needing medical attention get stowed away in this area?
“What a fantastic opportunity!” Molnar was excited about something. “Document all the information you can and we will soon introduce our guest to the committee!”
Doctor O’Shea didn’t say anything and seemed more unsettled than ever before. Whomever or whatever they brought in certainly changed the game here. I needed a stepstool to see into the next cell where they stowed the newcomer, only I didn’t have one. “Hey Lady!” I joked with her. “Who’s my new roommate?” She didn’t answer me. “Oh come on! It’s my birthday!” I tried again. I knew she couldn’t say anything if she wanted too. The guards were triple thick and for some reason I think she was as much a prisoner of circumstance as I was. All of them seemed on a higher alert than normal.
A cart full of drug and instruments were brought into the hallway between the cells. I could barely see Dr. O’Shea moving in and out of the cell next door. I tried to get real quiet and eavesdrop but all I could hear were clinical packs being torn open and the occasional shuffle of feet. Four of the six guards left. They were in full riot gear for some reason. Dr. O’Shea gathered her equipment. “Is all equipment accounted for?” Barked one of the two remaining troopers.
“Yes.” Dr. O’Shea answered swiftly. They paraded by slowly and the doctor stopped briefly and stared into my cell. She was definitely concerned.
Whoever lived next door now wasn’t the typical detainee. “Romania!” I called out quietly but there wasn’t an answer. I looked around the room for some kind of a way to get enough leverage to see into the next cell. Pri was sitting up on his bunk and staring deeply into the cell across from him. His sleeves were torn off as if he stripped himself of some allegiance or his rank. That man was crazy if I ever saw it.
“Freaks.” He said low and hateful. “For generations to come, none of your descendants who has defect may come near to offer the food of his God.”
“What was that?” I probably shouldn’t taunt him but that wouldn’t be fun. “I don’t speak gibberish!”
“Leviticus. You and your kind are marked. Poisonous to your selves.” He stood and further examined the new occupant. “You should be separated and prevented from tainting or mixing with the population.”
“You need some science bro.” I didn’t want to entertain this nut further.
“Right there, beside you.” Pri noticed my height disparity. “If you weren’t stunted you could see for yourself. There lies something unnatural. More so than you are Halfer. Whatever that is; there are more and that changes everything.” He was oddly in control of his madness. Everything about this man made me feel on edge. I watched him take his place on the slab again and turn away. He fell fast to sleep and snored. What a psychopath!
I went to the portal just out of my normal eye sight. I stretched and tip-toed but that didn’t help. I hopped and caught a brief glimpse of a deeply
pale and partially nude man. A Halfer maybe? He wasn’t deformed. I hopped some more and could see bleached hair and a solid athletic build. I gripped the wall and held myself from the floor like a pervert peering through a neighbor’s window. I struggled at first to keep my grip but I found a foothold and could keep the position with some effort.
They beat this guy up badly. He was bleeding out of his ears, nose and mouth. There weren’t many visible cuts though. That’s odd for someone so battered. Someone so pale should be bruised deeply too. Surgical tape held balls of bandage to his skin and were scattered near obvious veins. They didn’t discriminate, he had a hole wherever they could put one. They shaved a side of the dude’s head! Brain surgery! I won’t be sleeping for a while.
