by Lionel Law
Katrina did what was asked, laughing to herself at the irrational hope that flared through her as she did. It must be part of being human, she though, hoping to hit the big win, even if the big win wasn’t really all that much. Thanking the Doctor, she made her way back to her tiny one room living quarters, so small she couldn’t even call it an apartment. She had visited New Tokyo once, seeing a recreation of a twentieth century “capsule hotel.” While her space was larger than that, is wasn’t by much, as her bed tripled as her couch, her dining room chair, and with a small metal shelf pulled over the end where her feet rested, was also her entertainment center, computer desk, and writing surface on the rare occasion she had to write. She took off her jumpsuit and hung it on its hanger flat against the wall, relaxing in her underpants and tank top only. Reaching toward the tiny one square meter refrigeration unit that she had underneath her bed, she pulled out one of her two protein supplements. She was hungry, but with losing her temporary job, the fifth in three months, she was saving every credit she could. At least she hadn’t had to go trash pile mining for restaurant remnants yet.
Munching on her meal, she pondered what she was going to do next. Stuck in one of the lowest rungs of the Dirt ladder, she wasn’t sure what to do. The foreman had been right, the best chance she had for trying to make at least a halfway decent life for herself was to become the mistress of a Qual man. It wasn’t unheard of for an upper level Qual to have a mistress, sometimes even two or three. Still, the idea dug at her. She wasn’t a whore, dammit! While she didn’t have the same level of mental hangups as some of the other Dirts she knew who partook in some of the old religions, she still had her self respect, and that to her was more important than money or position.
“Face it honey, the only place you’re going is back to the day labor office tomorrow to see if you can get picked up for a job,” she muttered to herself. Reaching for her tiny personal tablet, she set it up on her pull out shelf and settled back. Electricity was so plentiful it was free on Luna, with almost constant harsh sunlight powering solar collectors all the time. She had helped lay the lines for the most recent collection farm in fact, a job that had netted her two month’s pay at the time. Turning it on, she quickly browsed to the entertainment channels, falling asleep to the most recent popular crime drama, a buddy cop pairing set among the terraformed red hills of Mars.
*****
The event was the biggest in media history over the last fifty years. Initial estimates were over four billion people tuned in for the drawing of the names for the Glorious Enterprise, and another one billion kept track via social media and other secondary sources. The government had spared no expense, telecasting from the museum at Cape Canaveral, with a recreated Saturn V rocket serving as one of the backdrops. Ryan Woolery, the most popular late night host, had been tasked with emceeing the star studded event, which included various acts to break up the monotony of drawing five thousand names.
Starting in groups of one hundred, numbers were drawn from giant mechanical drums. The numbers corresponded to lists of names that were put up on a fifty meter high hologram that dwarfed the Saturn V next to it. Even with that, the drums were gigantic, each of them holding almost a million ping pong balls.
Katrina had actually decided to take the day off for the event. She knew quite a few other Dirts that were doing the same thing, all of them hoping against hope for a berth on the Enterprise, not wanting to miss a single name drawn.
For the first hour and a half, things were boring. As expected, the Qual names were drawn first, broken up by long winded speeches and commentary from dignitaries and even the Vice President himself. The culmination of the Qual portion of the program was the revealing of the crew of the Enterprise, with all of the senior officers being announced publicly. When that was completed, the entertainment took on a more down to earth, plebeian tone. The lofty speeches were replaced with musical acts and comedians, as the drawings came faster and closer together.
When the moment came, Katrina was straining so hard, her eyes were watering. Despite the real screen being fifty meters high and a hundred meters wide, her tiny little data tablet was only ten inches wide and eight tall. It was impossible to read the names as they highlighted against the backdrop of the screen, and she had to wait as a crawling ticker of names went by with every drawing. The announcers stopped reading them out as they went, instead just calling off the numbers as they came out of the machine. After all, it was just Dirts getting picked, nobody really cared what their names were.
It took three times for her to register that her name was scrolling along the bottom of the screen, and even then Katrina didn’t believe her eyes. In a society of so many billions, there had to be many Katrina Cole’s in the Solar System, and it was with a slightly trembling finger that she reached out to tap the name, and pull up the detailed information.
When her picture and ID number popped up, Katrina felt her heart catch for a moment in her chest before starting again, and a stupid grin broke out on her face. She had done it. She had somehow, in some way beaten the odds, and she was one of the four thousand Dirts selected to go to the new colony.
“I’m going to the stars,” she whispered to herself, as the comlink on her wall flashed, and the first calls congratulating her came in.
Chapter 3
For Katrina, true weightlessness was never comfortable. As a Dirt, she had gotten used to fluctuations in gravity plating, but could never feel comfortable in true weightlessness. Unfortunately for her, while the government was more than willing to let colonists on the Glorious Enterprise upgrade to higher quality seating, for those who couldn’t afford it (and she couldn’t), travel from Luna to Ganymede Station was done in a manner that astronauts hundreds of years prior would have found familiar: strapped into chairs or floating around weightless.
She had learned long ago not to eat anything prior to one of these trips, she never could keep it down anyway. As it was, she still ended up spitting up hot, acidic bile into her sickness bag, but she refused to give up ten credits just to have a tiny two hundred milliliter bottle of water to wash her mouth out with. Instead, she grimly ran her tongue around her mouth until the worst of the flavor was gone, and floated as freely as she could the rest of the time. She had found that if she let her limbs and body float free, her body didn’t rebel as much. It was almost as if her insides and her outsides were under similar conditions, she somewhat figured things out.
Seeing the ship up close for the first time was even more impressive than she had thought. She had seen big ships before, after all, she had moved from Earth to Luna on a transport freighter. But the Glorious Enterprise had been built with a mindset different from most transport freighters. Built to make the most of the space afforded by the warp bubble, its rounded hull smooth except for the front, where a concave depression took up a huge chunk of the nose. Katrina had studied as much as she could about the design of the ship, and knew that the concavity was necessary for packing in the sensor and other systems in their proper configuration. She didn’t understand all the science behind it, but it didn’t matter to her.
The small transport shuttle docked, allowing her and the other fifty passengers who were coming from Luna to disembark. While the largest chunk of colonists had come from Earth, all of the settled areas of the Solar System were represented, and as she got off she saw some of the distinctive features that she had come to associate with Martians and Asteroid Belters. She was surprised at how utilitarian the corridors were, until they were led into a conference room where a man in the maroon suit of the ship’s senior officers was waiting for them. “Welcome, colonists. I’m Commander Peter Rodriguez, and I’m the executive officer for the Glorious Enterprise. Captain Sulumenov is currently on the bridge, giving a tour to some of our VIPs who are currently visiting from Mars. If you’d all take your seats, we’ll get the processing completed quickly, and those of you who are going under cryostasis ready.”
Katrina’s ears picked up. Cryostasis?
“Excuse me, sir? I never read anything about cryostasis.”
The Executive Officer looked over at her, his eyes immediately darkening with derision when he saw Katrina’s attire, which practically screamed Dirt. “If you had read your colonial contract carefully, you would have seen that paragraph forty seven, subsection alpha two noted that all colonists who did not pay for upgraded accommodations agreed to cryogenic suspension for the duration of the voyage from the Terran system to Iðavöllr. Or did you think we had enough space for food, water and other necessities for four thousand extra bodies on board doing nothing except waste oxygen for the next eighteen months?”
Katrina shut her mouth. While she hadn’t read the entire contract, the agreement had spanned over five hundred pages. She did however remember that any member of the ship’s crew could disqualify a colonist prior to their departure from Ganymede, and the colonist would then be responsible for not only their transport from Ganymede station, but also for paying for the next backup to travel from their home to Ganymede. If the colonist could not afford to do so, the government would cover the cost, at the price of the colonists indentured servitude until the debt had been repaid. Katrina had no desires to be working the asteroid mines searching for uranium for the next ten years. She kept her comments to herself. “Apologies, sir.”
The XO looked her over for a moment, his eyes resting on her hips and breasts, and she felt a shiver flow through her body. “All right then, if there are no more questions, I’ll turn you over to our processing staff. Those of you who have upgraded quarters, I look forward to seeing you around the ship. For those who are going into stasis, I wish you pleasant dreams.”
*****
Despite the common name of cryo-sleep, stasis was nothing like a dream. For Katrina, she was aware almost then entire time, the whole eighteen months feeling like a long, hellishly slow single day. She could see through the frosted front of her stasis pod as streaks, she assumed were crew members, would come by, blurry splotches of color that seemed to be there and gone in fractions of a second, even though she knew in real life it was much longer.
She was glad she had her vision though, because it was the only sensory input she had while in the pod. The pod was insulated to keep the temperature inside below the freezing point of water, which meant that it was also soundproof. In addition, the cold chilled her extremities before the drugs that kept her alive were fed in through her IV tubing, so she was numb to touch as well. Even her sense of smell was corrupted, the sterile, refrigerated air holding no smell at all. As she waited, awake and aware but trapped, she understood another reason for the viewing port. Early experiments in cryostasis had resulted in either death, or insanity of the test subjects. While the physical problems had been worked out, the mental ones lasted much longer. She knew why. If she had been totally sensory deprived, without even the streaky blobs of light that made up her visual input, she was sure she would have gone mad as well.
The first tendrils of heat that came to her attention started in her right forearm, which made sense. It was where the IV tubes had been inserted, after all. She knew from reading the specifications on the stasis chamber that the reawakening process took over two weeks when done normally, with electrical stimulation and automated lymphatic and circulatory system flushes being done to counteract the effects of muscle wasting and other issues. For Katrina, it felt like five minutes of absolute hell, as alternating waves of fire and electricity tore at her body. If she could have moved her vocal cords, she would have screamed, and her eyes teared up before the drops crystallized on her skin, only to melt as the time wore on and the outer temperature was brought closer and closer to room temperature.
When the pod was finally opened, Katrina felt exhausted, worn out as much as she did from a long day of the most physical labor she had ever done. Sagging into the crew member who helped her out, she staggered to the recovery couch before lying there, dripping wet from the melted condensation on her clothes and skin. Looking around, she saw that she was in a bay along with another large group of colonists. She didn’t know anyone’s names, there hadn’t been enough time before they had been put into stasis, and she didn’t recognize the few faces around her. Laying back, she sighed, and waited. The ship’s crew would tell them what was next, she knew that.
*****
“While you Dirts were taking your nap, the rest of us had a bit of a discussion,” Commander Rodriguez said to the assembled group of colonists who were still weakened from their time in cryostasis. “And there are going to be a few changes to the way life is conducted for you all. The easy life that you knew back in the Terran system is over.”
“My dear Dirts, this ship is landing on an alien world, and we are cut off from all support for at least another two years, before the Columbia Ascendant can make it out here. That means everything we cannot grow, manufacture or synthesize with local products will have to be strictly rationed. That includes such things as medicines and possibly food until we can figure out what grows in the local soil. And you idiots can guess who is going to be doing the heavy thinking in all of this. That’s right, the Quals. By the way, we’ve decided to rename ourselves. We are now Peers, and will be addressed as such by you Dirts when you speak to us. But, since we’re going to be doing so much to protect your worthless asses, we’re going to be requiring a bit of reciprocation from you.
“So, each of you is being assigned to labor groups, to do what you are suited for. You’re going to be putting up the walls, building the houses, and digging the ditches that we are all going to need. Once Iova City is built, you’re going to be assigned to Peer houses to act as servants. Any questions?”
“Yeah. When the fuck did this become a slave colony?” a voice with the distinct Cockney accent of Britain said from somewhere to Katrina’s right rear. “This was supposed to be the chance for a new life, not to become a bloody fooking piece of chattel!”
The response from Rodriguez was immediate and severe. Tapping his tablet, an energy bolt rocketed across the bay, catching the man in the head, his head exploding like an overfilled balloon. The bolt didn’t stop there though, tearing through the hip of the colonist behind the speaker before dissipating on the steel deck. “It’s quite simple,” the Executive Officer said over the screams of the wounded Dirt who had collapsed to the deck. “We Peers have all the guns. We have all the power. If any of you, and I mean any of you, steps out of line, we kill you. Captain Hunt has no problem with making this entire bay a vacuum, and spacing all of your worthless asses before we even land. And if you think Earth gives a shit, think again. Report back to your recovery bays for strapping into your bunks. Prepare for landing. Your data terminals next to your bunks will have your initial assignments.”
Katrina made her way back to her bunk, cursing her stupid decision to enter the Colonial Lottery the entire time. Life on Luna had been tough, for sure, but she had at least had her freedom. Now, she was worse off than ever. Lying down on the thinly padded couch, she wondered what she was going to do. On her right, the data terminal beeped, and she thumbed it on tiredly. She wasn’t sure if she could take any more news today.
The rugged yet ugly face of Peter Rodriguez greeted her. “Glad to see that you obey your summons quickly, Katrina,” he said, smirking. “I’m going to be taking advantage of that after we land.”
A sinking feeling came into Katrina’s gut, and she swallowed back her bile. “What do you mean, Peer Rodriguez?”
“I’m in the ship’s crew, even after we land you’ll call me Commander,” he corrected her somewhat gently. “What I mean is, that while most of the Dirts will be working the labor battalions, the Captain has agreed that some of the senior staff will be able to enjoy the fruits of our efforts faster than others. So, you will be assigned personally to me starting at oh eight hundred the morning of landing. I expect you to assist with the setup of my shelter, then prepare yourself. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the company of a woman as beautiful as you.”
Katrina couldn’t suppress her shudder at his words, and Rodriguez’s grin grew. “Good. I happen to like it if there is a bit of resistance to my advances. The more you fight, the more I like it. It makes breaking you all that much sweeter. And trust me Katrina, you will be broken by the time I’m done with you.”
The tablet went black, and Katrina stared at it for a moment before the tears came, and she rolled to her side, burying her face in the pillow before the sobs grew loud enough for those around her to hear. More than ever, showing weakness was not good for her health.
*****
Stepping onto Iðavöllr’s surface for the first time, Katrina’s initial reaction was staggered surprise. The sky was beautiful, clean and clear beyond anything she had ever imagined. If it wasn’t for the armed Peers standing at the end of the ramp back up to the ship, she would have felt like she was in some form of paradise. Instead, she tried her best not to trudge through the grass, which had already been pressed flat from the passage of a thousand other pairs of feet and various vehicles.
“Katrina!”
She turned, and saw Commander Rodriguez coming down the ramp towards her. He was wearing his field uniform, the blood red beret of the ship’s officers perched rakishly on his head. Even among the Peers, he was high in rank, and many of the people around him gave him a respectfully wide berth. “Commander. How may I help you?”
Rodriguez stopped in front of her, looking her in the eye. He studied her face for a moment, before breaking into a wicked, sneering smile. “I’m glad to see our little chat didn’t break your will already,” he said, reaching up to cup her chin. Katrina couldn’t help herself, she pulled away with a disgusted twist of her head. The Peer’s grin grew, and he snatched her tightly at the back of her neck. “Do you duty tonight, and the pain will be a bit less,” he advised almost kindly. “Do it sloppily or poorly, and I swear your bones will shine in the fucking moonlight.”
