by David Coy
“Dead?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Let’s find out.”
Lavachek carefully grabbed hold of the leathery edge of the casing and wiggled it. Habershaw felt it, but there was no stinging pain to speak of.
“Did it do anything?” Lavachek asked.
“No.”
“Pull the goddamned thing off, Greg.”
“You sure?”
“I want that goddamned thing off me. Pull it off.”
“If you say so.”
Lavachek had never been squeamish. He took a good hold on the casing on one side and worked the black legs out of Habershaw’s flesh. Habershaw made a face and groaned a little. Lavachek did the same to the other side, then he grabbed the spent parasite by the head, down next to the skin and worked it around and around in a circle until it pulled free. Lines of blood ran down Habershaw’s leg from the holes the creature left behind. Lavachek handed the flaccid life form to Habershaw with two fingers.
“Here he is. He’s a ugly little bastard.”
“If this goddamned thing had got on my neck it would of killed me.”
“I thought they were supposed to warn us about shit like that,” Lavachek said. “We’re supposed to be briefed and all that, right? Nobody told me about those goddamned things.”
“Right,” Habershaw said.
“So what’s the deal?”
“Maybe it slipped through, didn’t get cataloged or something like that. Nobody told you about ‘em, either?”
“Hell, no.”
“Ain’t that a bitch."
“I think so.”
“So, there’s your goddamned cause,” Habershaw said. “But listen, nobody’s ever gonna put the blame on a bug. They’ll put it on me; and if they put it on me, they’ll put it on you.”
Habershaw tossed the dead parasite over the railing into the water below.
Lavachek swallowed and almost complained that it wasn’t his fault in any case, but that could backfire. Habershaw was the boss, and it didn’t do to be at odds with him. He held his tongue.
“So the rig went out of control,” Habershaw continued. “That keeps everybody happy, more or less.”
“Now what? What happens to the rig?”
“There’s no way to get this thing out of this shit. No way. We can’t get the truck-crane in here to disassemble it; there’s no footing. My guess is Smith’ll leave it right where it is and send for another one. His insurance’ll pay for it anyways. It’ll take two months for the new rig to get here. By that time, the whole schedule will be screwed. He won’t like that much.”
“So what’ll we do for two months?”
“Well, our contracts say if we don’t have equipment to work on, we don’t have a contract. If the general contractor fails to provide the equipment, he has the penalty and has to pay us as if we were working—even if he sends us home. That applies to the accidental destruction of equipment, too.”
“So what’ll we do?”
“Fucked if I know,” Habershaw said. “This is as good a place as any for a fuckin’ vacation. Just keep your mouth shut about what happened.”
4
When he was just starting out, Mike Kominski’s father told him he should do his best and be thankful he had a job, no matter what. If a man does good work and works hard, then good things will come his way, he’d said. That simple idea was his father’s rock. Stay neat and clean and work hard. Be honest in your dealings and don’t lie. Show respect to your boss and don’t steal.
When Mike came of age, his father helped him negotiate his contract with the IRSG. Mike’s first assignment was working as a Continuity Checker for a cable manufacturer in Cleveland. It was boring work, but his contract went down a little each day, so he stayed with it.
His father got sick and died just two years before his own contract was paid off. The last thing he said to Mike was be glad he wasn’t working in one of the factories on the mainland. In order to get your contract paid down in one of those places, you’d have to work fourteen hours a day all your life in a hot, crowded place.
When his father died, the debt he left still had to be paid off, and the remaining balance, fell on Mike, as the youngest son. His only brother, fifteen years older than Mike, would share the debt, only unofficially. Military duty, an official exemption from such indebtedness, his brother would credit the account when he could, but would never let Mike shoulder it alone. Together they could do it.
Mike was uncertified, and it would take years to obtain certification in almost anything. He knew he would eventually earn one; anyone with any ambition could do it. His lack of a certification and the newly acquired debt of his inheritance made him an attractive commodity from an employer’s viewpoint. The reason was simple: the more you had to pay down, the weaker your bargaining position. Undaunted by that, and bored stiff by cable ends, he took his contract to Richthaus-Alvarez, and they bought it right up. He knew the contract wouldn’t be real good, but there were advantages to it. Because he was uncertified and carrying a millstone, they could do just about anything they wanted with him. He’d have to work hard, and there was no time off in the first five years, but that was okay. Everything worked out for the best. There would be opportunities ahead, and the chance to travel to distant worlds was a big plus.
His first assignment with the company was as a Maintenance Specialist Grade IV on board one of the massive transports. It was filthy work, and Mike didn’t like working around toilets; but he did it better than anybody. His supervisor was a good guy and took notice of Mike’s hard work. As soon as he got the chance, he gave Mike a big reduction and got him transferred to Transportation as a Light Expeditor, the promotion confirming what Mike already knew: hard work always paid down.
The transport’s destination was General Settlement’s new mining project on a planet called Verde. Mike had no idea where Verde was, but he knew it was exciting anyway. No one in his family had ever traveled off-world as far as he knew, not even his brother.
His quarters onboard ship were cramped and grimy, but at least he didn’t have to share his sleeping quarters like he had back home. The air was stale, and he didn’t like that much. The walls felt damp when he touched them; and every morning when he woke up, the walls dripped water as if they’d collected dew. The bed itself had a musty smell, but it was still the best one he’d ever slept on.
Mike pulled his clothes on, washed his face, combed his hair, brushed his teeth and headed for the commissary. The commissary provided three meals per day, free during the trip. Next to the bed, the commissary’s food was the best thing onboard ship. They had corn flakes.
* * *
Eddie Silk and a couple of other guys were already there leaning against the counter with their arms folded, waiting for Mario, the cook, to open up. Mario was always a little late; the guys were always a little early. Eddie, just three years older, was Mike’s lead. Mike was encouraged by the fact that you could get a leader’s contract at such a young age in Transportation.
“Howdy, Mike.”
“Howdy.”
“I heard one of the riggers saying that Ed Smith’s a real penny-pincher,” Eddie was saying.
“Yeah,” Nelson Santos threw in. “That’s what I heard.”
“Yep. They say he’s a real hard-driving sonofabitch, too.”
“I heard he cuts corners—doesn’t obey the law,” Nelson added.
“Could be. Shit, you have to make the schedule,” Eddie added.
“I also heard this was gonna be the biggest installation ever. Bigger than Fuji-3.”
“I doubt that,” Eddie said.
“That’s what Dintler said.”
“Dintler’s a asshole. Fuji-3’s been going on for twenty years already.”
“I’m just repeating what he said.”
“He’s a bullshitter, too.”
“They got cereal today?” Mike asked.
“They always got cereal, Mike,” Eddi
e said.
Mike leaned against the counter and folded his arms, too.
“I heard there are man-eating plants on Verde,” Nelson said.
“Who’d ya hear that bullshit from?” Eddie wanted to know.
“I heard it from an Expeditor who knows one of the Defoliators who was on the orbiter.”
Mike swallowed involuntarily.
“Do you believe everything you hear?” Eddie asked.
Eddie gave Mike a look like Santos was nuts. It put Mike at ease.
“Besides,” Eddie went on. “What do you think the defoliators do? They defoliate. So if there were any man-eating plants, they’re dead now. Those defoliators kill everything. Plus, it would be illegal to send us down without clearing away any goddamned man-eating plants.”
“Only if you obey the law,” Nelson persisted.
“Man-eating plants my ass,” Eddie said in a huff.
They heard the clasps unhinge on the big sliding door and turned around. The door rolled up noisily and slammed into the stops with a rattle. Peter Ho stiffened at the noise.
“Who’s first?” Mario said, pointing a thin finger at no one in particular. His apron was streaked and smeared with foodstuff
* * *
They were scheduled to transfer to the orbiter the next morning; so after his shift, Mike packed his things into his bag and cleaned up his room as best he could. He didn’t want to leave it all messy for the next person.
The transport docked with the orbiter, and Mike got a good look at the planet from the gangway going over. It was his first view of anything outside the ship in a month, and he spent a few minutes just staring at the sight. The planet looked smoother than he thought it would, and the silver band of ocean that wrapped around it made it look like a big, hard jewel floating in space. He had expected the planet to look brighter, friendlier than it was, not so spooky. It was dark green, almost black, with patches of heavy white clouds scattered over it. He’d heard it was hot on the surface. He didn’t like being too hot.
* * *
They spent the next day moving their equipment over to the orbiter and preparing all of it to go down to the planet’s surface. Eddie knew exactly what he was doing, and Mike and the guys were good at following orders so the operation went real smooth. They were the second team of Light Expeditors from Transportation to go to Verde. According to Eddie, as the project progressed and more and more contractors took up residence on the planet, the need for Light Expeditors increased, too. Eddie was taking the lead position on the planet itself but would report directly to Joan Thomas who’d be the boss of all the Light Expeditors. Mike, Bruce Smith and Peter Ho would join with Joan’s people for a full crew of seven for now. Their team would have the job of moving all light goods and materials on the planet—food, tools, clothing, toys—anything ordered through procurement that would fit in a Number 10 container—would wind up on Joan’s dock to be distributed by her department.
Mike thought the whole thing was just glorious. Eddie told him the food would be great, but the best things of all were the shelters. Used but clean, the shelters had built-ins and running water. And the best part, the very best part, was that the law said only two people to an entire shelter. He’d have more room to himself than he’d ever dreamed, his own room and a shower.
“Do we get to order our own food, Eddie?” Mike asked.
“Order? What’d ya mean order? Shit, we get our pick of whatever we want. We don’t have to order nothin’.”
This job was getting better and better.
Except for the heat.
Mike was prepared for hot weather, but not the oppressive, wet heat of Verde. He hoped he could get used to it. By the time he walked to the bottom of the shuttle’s ramp, he was sweating through his clothes. The air was so thick and wet it clogged his throat. He was glad there was plenty of water on the planet.
The warehouse was cluttered and disorganized to Mike’s eye, but the others took no notice. Eddie introduced himself to a guy who was stacking containers with a forklift and asked him where he could find Joan Thomas. He pointed to an office attached to the dock a few hundred meters away. On the way, they walked past hundreds of coffin-sized Number 10 shipping containers packed with goods ready for distribution.
The warehouse was open to the air on all sides and covered with a dense screen high above that let in plenty of light but kept most of the hot sun off the containers. There were big lights hanging down on conduits so the crews could work nights, too.
“Jeez, there’s a lot of stuff here,” Mike said.
“This ain’t nothin’,” Bruce said, spitting down through the grates. “This place can expand in all directions if it has to.”
“Yeah, this dock is small,” Peter Ho added.
“Wait ‘til they start bringing down the big stuff every day. All the pipe and building materials and shit. You ain’t seen nothin' yet.”
Neatly colored lines ran parallel like roads all over the floor grates, and big areas of the warehouse had been divided into colored sections. Most of the sections were completely empty. Above each section hung big, number-coded, three-sided signs that could be seen from any angle.
“By next year at this time,” Eddie said. “All this shit will be stacked and organized like you wouldn’t believe. Wait ‘til they get the stackers in place; that’s what these big holes are for.” Mike fell back with Peter Ho as they walked along. Peter had worked with Eddie before, but had scarcely more experience than Mike.
“Isn’t this somethin’?” Mike asked him.
Peter had been only half-listening and kept his attention split on the wall of jungle to the west. When Peter didn’t answer him, Mike just shrugged.
A few steps later, Peter answered as if he’d been in a daze, still keeping his eyes on the distant foliage.
“Yeah . . . I guess so.”
* * *
Mike took to Joan Thomas right away. He could tell she knew what she was doing by the way she kept her office clean and neat. A clean and neat work area was important. That’s what his dad always said.
Joan was pretty, and Mike saw the other guys looking at her breasts where her cottons were open when she reached for things. Mike looked, too, but he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.
It was nearly lunchtime so Joan called the other Light Expeditors in and introduced everybody around. Joan provided lunch, and they spent the next half hour getting to know each other.
When she sent the other guys back to work, everyone shook hands. Shaking the hand of the older lead, Don Krupp, Eddie smiled. Krupp didn’t smile back. Eddie was taking over his job.
Joan showed them the overall plan for the project and gave them maps of the facility that showed where everything was. After that, she called in the order for their shelters to Rigging and Assembly, and they all sat stock-still, listening to the order being placed. Their shelters would be installed later that same day. When she asked them if they had any preferences about sheltermates, they all shook their heads. She put Mike in with Bruce and Peter with Eddie. It made sense to put an experienced guy with an inexperienced one.
“Any man-eating plants on this planet?” Bruce asked suddenly as kind of a joke.
Eddie groaned.
Everybody chuckled, except Joan.
“Not that I know of—but I’d stay out of the jungle.” There was nothing funny about the tone of her voice.
“How come?” Eddie finally asked.
Joan thought about it before she answered. She wasn’t the kind to keep her people in the dark about anything, but these kids were really spooked by the green and black woods. Some corner of her psyche took a little delight in that fact.
“Well, we haven’t found anything that’s killed anybody yet,” she smiled. She thought about the nasty bug that attached itself to Bill’s leg before Christmas. Thank God they didn’t turn up very often. “But I’d keep my doors closed at night,” she said. “Nearly everything on the planet is nocturnal. Did you notice
there were no bugs around to speak of?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, wait until nighttime.”
When she looked at Peter Ho, the blood had drained from his face.
That one’s really spooked. “None of you are afraid of bugs, are you?” she asked.
“Naw,” they all said, laughing in false bravado.
She grinned.
There wasn’t much to do that afternoon, but they moved the forklifts and trucks off the shuttle and put them over by the dock. Mike was almost too lathered up to work. The idea of having his own shelter filled him with a twitchy joy he could scarcely contain. He kept waiting for Eddie to call it a day so they could go see them. The idea of the shelters and running water and private beds was like a sweet dream. The last work they did that day was to pick up their bags at the dock and pile them into the back of one of the trucks, so they’d be ready to go.
They gravitated to the side of the truck as if it were a magnet. Leaning against it with their arms folded, they waited with foot-tapping impatience for Eddie to set them loose. No one actually got in the truck. That would have seemed too impatient.
The guys were watching Eddie like a hawk but tried not to let it show. Eddie looked at his watch a time or two before he said the words they were dying to hear:
“Let’s go check out those shelters.”
They piled in the truck with big grins, trying to bust out, just under the surface of their faces. When Mike looked at Peter, he thought he looked a little concerned but was trying to hide it somehow.
“I’m taking a shower tonight!” Mike said cheerfully.
“I’m taking two,” Bruce said.
“I told ya this job would be great, Mike,” Eddie said.
“Yep,” Bruce added.
Eddie drove the truck down the ramp off the dock and over the bumpy terrain toward the rows of shelters in the distance. They sat like blocks about a hundred meters from the jungle perimeter in neat orderly rows. Identical in size and shape, some of them were considerably more battered than the others. It didn’t matter to Mike. He’d take anything with a bed and a shower in it, banged up and dirty or not. There was space enough for a truck or RTV between them, and they could see several of each already parked there. Mike guessed there were about fifty or so shelters. That would put the number of people on the surface at about a hundred.
