The Alliance

by Jason Letts

  Pumping Cheever for information seemed the best place to start. Over the course of a few days, as he learned how things worked in the slums and put together a plan, Rion asked Cheever every question he could about when they’d be leaving and returning, what the other companies involved were, and how they were transporting the tulips.

  “What if instead of the big net bags you have to haul the flowers, we use cardboard boxes? That’s what they deliver the ration packs in to the colony’s police, and those boxes just get piled up in the back. I could collect them and that would allow us to transport the flowers on the tram in a more efficient manner,” Rion said, drawing a wide-eyed look from Cheever.

  “You’ll be quite a business man if you keep it up. What’s the term? Very detail-oriented. Boxes, bags, whatever you want.”

  Cheever’s lack of concern about the details put Rion’s plan that much closer to being within reach.

  The others routinely spent their mornings and evenings sneaking about the area hunting for news about the Regent’s Center and the ways to get there.

  One day Bailor told Rion to follow him after work. They shuffled down an alley toward the tram station, stopping at a shoulder-height fence that Bailor plopped a few charge coins onto. Rion eyed the money, wondering what was going on and where they were. A few seconds later a hand scooped up the coins and deposited a small bottle of brown liquid in their place.

  “Is that what you’ve been spending your money from Cheever on?” Rion asked.

  “You’re going to like this. Take a sip,” Bailor said.

  Rion put the bottle to his lips. His mouth instantly felt like it was burning up and would disintegrate off of his face. Doubling over, he coughed, gagged, and spat.

  “I don’t mean you’re going to like the taste. You’re going to like what it’s for.”

  They continued on toward the station, where one of the trams was rolling in. Waiting while it came to a stop and discharged its passengers, the boys watched the area clear out and become quiet again. Only then did the tram conductor exit and make his way for the stairs. He passed them closely enough for them to see the stains on his shirt under the arms and followed him as he continued on.

  The conductor’s walking grew more labored as he turned a corner and approached an area behind the station with a ledge running along the colossal wall bordering the colony. The way he sat down made Rion think he wasn’t in good health.

  “Who’s he?” the conductor said to Bailor when he sat down next to him.

  “A friend. Don’t worry about him,” Bailor answered. Handing over the bottle did more to assuage the man’s worries than anything Bailor said. The conductor unscrewed the cap and took a long sip, downing nearly a quarter of the contents. He sucked his teeth and leaned back against the wall.

  “Tell him what you told me about the Regent’s Center,” Bailor said.

  The man took another swig, grimaced, and scratched behind his ear.

  “It eats me up I’ve been at this job going on ten years and they’ve only let me off the cart over there a handful of times, and only been in the center once when one of the big wigs forgot a briefcase. I’ll die before they treat me as anything other than one of the undesirables over here.

  “But that’s neither here nor there. I know you want to be wowed by the grandness of the place, and it is pretty stunning. Right from the station you can see that they’ve done everything they could to make you forget you were on Mars. Screens cover every inch of the walls, displaying blue sky and a mountain valley behind. They got grass imported and put down next to a stream of pumped water, even a fake breeze with some sweet scent in it. The reason they don’t let people over there is because if anyone went they’d never come back here.”

  Rion got the gist of what kind of opportunity Bailor set on his plate, a disgruntled, tipsy employee that didn’t mind running his mouth at length. It wasn’t a floor plan of the center, which Rion was hungry to get his hands on, but it sure couldn’t hurt.

  “What can you tell us about the layout of the area and what’s around the center?” Rion asked once the conductor lowered the bottle.

  “There are a few sections of gardens, but closer to the building you can tell they’ve got plastic plants in. A few fountains. That’s between the station and the main entrance, which has a lot of windows. Behind on the left you can see elevators that go up to some private docks. Mind you, it’s outside of the bubble over there. There are a few sheds and lean-to’s with chairs around.”

  “You make it sound like there’s not much in the way of security,” Rion said. The conductor shrugged.

  “There is security around the station exit there and a final check at the door, but most of the effort to keep people away is done right here at these stations.”

  The man had already consumed half the bottle and was beginning to smell of it.

  “What about the inside?” Bailor asked. “What does that look like?”

  “I didn’t see much more than a few rooms. The main foyer or ballroom is right beyond the entry room, and there’s a staircase and hallways at the back of that. Lots of paintings on the walls, sculptures here and there. The floor is real marble. Only other room I saw was a study with a mountain of books in it. Smelled of cigars. People there are living the life, no doubt.”

  Rion nodded, trying to picture the place in his mind and fit it into his plan. It complicated things that the party and dinner would be held so close to the main entrance. They’d need to find another way out, a side door or a window.

  One of the biggest snags in the plan was how to work out being there later than everyone else, especially when their tram ticket would specify when they were to return. Saying they missed the right train and begging forgiveness was the best solution Rion had at the moment, but that would certainly work more plausibly if the conductor checking his ticket could be bought off with a little booze.

  “Do you ever work nights?” Rion asked.

  “About three nights a week the trams run later. I don’t usually do it, but this other cocksucker conductor’s wife expelled another baby and I’m stuck with all of them until he comes back. He’ll be taking his sweet time. You think I get paid extra? Of course not.”

  Rion was tempted to try to arrange something with the man by telling him they were headed to the center and needed to come back late, but simply surprising him with the situation seemed like a better option, so there was no way it could slip out when he got blackout drunk. Still, having an edge on the return trip made Rion more confident than ever about their plot. This man wasn’t going to even bother patting them down to find the extra things they’d be carrying.

  Without another word, the two boys left in order to give the conductor and his bottle the alone time they needed.

  Ready to move on to the next item on his list, Rion spent the next few nights nursing his aching fingers while keeping a watchful eye on the inspector’s offices near the cavern. It wasn’t long before he noticed a routine that would be easy to exploit. None of the inspectors, with their cushy colony jobs, was from the slums, and thus at shift change time, around 7 o’clock, most would leave the area while the rest went into the spaceport to handle the night arrivals.

  The building would be almost completely dark, and only once had Rion seen any of the inspectors come back for something, and that was hours later. When it came time to pounce, he brought Lena along. Together, they kneeled beside a stoop down the street as they watched the daytime contingent depart.

  “What do you want to break into this place for?” Lena asked.

  “You’ll see,” Rion said with a sly grin.

  Together they left the stoop and went for the inspector’s office building, slipping down a narrow alley on one side that was barely wide enough to walk down. Canvassing the entire building revealed only one possible point of entry other than the front door, a window on the second floor. He stared up at it, wondering if trying to bust down the front door was a better option.

  W
hen he turned around, Lena had disappeared. He glanced up to see her halfway to the window, feet against one wall and back against the other.

  “I’m not going to make it up there, and I don’t think you should try to open the front door where anyone might see,” he said, wishing he had a Martian lasso right about now.

  “Then think of something. I can only camp here and trim my nails for so long,” Lena said, annoyed.

  A thought struck him, but it did involve running all the way back to Cheever’s sweatshop. He returned with his arms full of the thick coils of string. While he’d been away, Lena had wedged open the window and gotten inside. Rion tossed the coils up to her and soon about twenty strings dangled in front of his face. He twisted them up around each other like a rope, wondering if that made any difference.

  “It’s a good thing you’re a little pipsqueak,” Lena said cheerfully.

  He began to climb up, getting most of the way to the window when the strings started to snap. Lena caught him by the collar of his shirt. Dangling, he looked up at her and saw a strangely fascinated expression on her face.

  “Do you want me to drop you?” she asked.

  “What? No!”

  “You might land head first. It would be so nice to escape,” she said.

  Rion shook his head, cringing. Finally, she pulled him in and he tread across the floor in the dark room with more thankfulness than he thought he would have.

  “Let’s head downstairs. We need to find a printer, a copier, anything,” he said.

  A number of terminals were running in the first floor’s main offices. Rion settled down in front of one and began tapping on the folders as he conducted his search.

  “Now will you tell me what we’re here for?” Lena asked.

  “Wait one second. It’s this,” he said, opening up a file. “The manifest form with the trick question. I want to print out hundreds of these, rig them up with the balloons above the regent center’s ballroom, and have them rain down on the heads of everyone who profited when kids were either abandoned or fined.”

  “I like that,” she said.

  After he made a few more taps, a printer beeped elsewhere in the room as it came to life, discharging copy after copy into a tray.

  “Because the ships handle all of this electronically, these forms are almost never printed. Maybe that made it easier for them to overlook us. It’s also why I wanted Cheever to transport all of the pillows in cardboard boxes. Some of them will be filled with these forms, but no one else will know like they would with bags.

  A few boxes were handy, and the pair stuffed them with the loose pages after emptying the original contents in the trash. Soon it was time to go, and the first step of getting out was having Lena climb out the window and catch the boxes from ground level. When they were safely set down, Rion stepped onto the sill.

  “You’re going to catch me, right?” he asked her. For a second he considered trying to stretch across the gap and shimmy down like she had, but he felt sure he would slip and land on his head.

  “Try not to fall too fast,” she said.

  Her teasing didn’t make it any easier, but he had no choice but to jump. He closed his eyes for a second. When they reopened, he was on the ground next to her after knocking her down. Lena sighed and began to brush herself off. Picking up the boxes, they carted them through the streets to their room.

  Every day brought more progress and more information that they could use for their scheme. The day of their trip was getting so close Rion could taste it, and all of the preparations came together flawlessly. Or at least they did until the night before their excursion when a sharp pain ripped Rion from sleep.

  “Where is it?” a loud voice echoed in Rion’s head, which felt like it was cracking apart. Before he could open his eyes, another impact made his head jerk to the side. He felt the cold floor on his face. His mat wasn’t even under him.

  By now there was yelling from other members of their group. Blurry shapes appeared when Rion cracked his eyelids open. The taste of blood was in his mouth.

  “He has it! I know he has it!” called an angry voice. Enough lucidity returned to Rion to identify the voice as Wud’s. The boy had hit him several times, dragging him to the middle of the room, and was holding one arm over his neck.

  It was dark, and none of the other workers lived on the premises. He had no idea when or if Cheever would react to the commotion, but it probably wouldn’t be in time to prevent him suffocating. Trying to suck in a breath and failing, a feeling of panicked rage came to Rion, and he began scratching and pulling at the skin on Wud’s arm and face.

  The others were trying to pull Wud off of him. In a snap, Wud had let go of Rion in order to shove Bailor against the wall. His friend groaned and slumped onto the floor. Gasping for breath, Rion tilted his head upward enough to catch a glimpse of a glow coming from the alley through the window.

  “Where is it? Tell me now or I swear none of you will leave this room,” Wud said, fuming. The anger in his eyes could’ve fueled an inferno.

  “Where is what?” Rion asked.

  Wud kicked him in the side hard enough to move him by a few millimeters.

  “Don’t give me that bull, you little scrotal growth. Where is my card with all of my charges on it?”

  Rion peered at him, trying to add it up. At first he wondered why they were wandering like they were penniless if Wud had all of his money on him. Then he wondered how Wud knew to have his card on him when they left the spaceport when he usually hid everything away like a squirrel. He voiced the answer as fast as he could think it.

  “You killed the pilot in his ship.”

  Wud curled up his lip and clenched his fists.

  “What was I going to do, let her catch me, let her pull some kind of weapon on me or turn me in? No, thank you. It was her mistake to come back when she did. I’m not going to end up like the others who didn’t make it.”

  Rion finally managed to prop himself up by the elbow, but getting to his feet still seemed like a long way away in his dizziness.

  “I had no idea you had brought anything with you,” he said, stopping when he noticed a painful soreness in his mouth. “I didn’t take your card.”

  Looking over, he saw that his mat had been flipped. His clothes had been searched in a way he didn’t want to think about, and his boxes of forms had been taken out of the room. Wud stalked back and forth in the small space, looking like he’d throw himself at Rion any second.

  “You don’t think I know what you’ve been doing? First you show up, punch me in the nose, then you try to steal my position among the boys, you cozy up with the girl, and now you rob me blind. You just can’t stand that I’m a better thief than you. It’s because I’m smarter.”

  Rion opened his mouth to mount his defense against the snowstorm of absurd accusations, but he stopped when he heard Lena laughing while leaning against the corner. It got Wud’s attention as well.

  “What’s so funny? I’m so tired of this snide little skank always heckling, acting like she’s all that, when she really hasn’t done anything. Yeah, keep laughing. Tell me about one big score you’ve made. You can’t, can you?”

  Lena looked repentant for a moment, tilting her head downward and shrugging a little. Then she reached behind her back and pulled something out of her waistband. It was a small silver card with the symbol of the Planetary Alliance on it, a circle with eight dots representing the sun and the organic natural planets of the solar system. A sly grin crept onto her face.

  The effect wasn’t lost on Wud, who began shaking with rage. Lena waved the card around, further antagonizing him.

  “You’re so smart, except you were one-hundred-percent wrong about the thief who robbed you blind. If you think I steal in order to think big of myself, like you do, you’re completely wrong about that as well. I steal to punish people, and I knew from the first moment I saw you that your pretension and your insufferable ego needed to be punished. You should’ve come up with
a better hiding spot for this than under the sole of you shoe. I think I’ll spend it all on Brain Candy to forget what your hideous face looks like.”

  Wud watched the card and then turned his attention to Lena, sidling to the right a little to put a wall right behind her. Lena’s stance changed the instant Wud started to charge at her. His large mass only needed a couple of steps to reach her, but in that time something hit him on the back of the head. Bailor had swung the end of a Martian lasso, something he must’ve been secretly holding onto since back in the spaceport.

  Lena had already deftly dodged the freight train rolling at her. The impact of the lasso’s weighty magnetic end knocked Wud forward, sending him tripping over Lena’s outstretched leg. Everything in the room shook when Wud’s head busted a hole in the wall. His head was buried and his arms went limp.

  Everyone watched for a moment, wondering if he would move. Rion got to his feet and heard some noise from elsewhere in the building. Cheever wouldn’t be happy about his wall.

  When they began to think Wud had cracked his head hard enough to kill him, the burly boy let out a groan and withdrew his head from the hole. When he got up, he had trouble keeping his balance. A cut high on his forehead sent blood dribbling down his face.

  Bailor and Rion stood close to Lena as Wud turned around. He let out a wail as he charged again, knocking all of them down. Another blow made Rion feel like he would pass out, but mostly Wud was trying to get his hands on his card. A fist came down like a hammer on Lena’s shoulder in the midst of the scuffle. Rion was too disoriented to do anything, but after a few moments Wud began sputtering and coughing.

  Blinking, Rion saw that the line from the lasso was tied around Wud’s neck. Bailor had him choking, his face growing visibly red even in the dim light.

  “I give,” he said in a scratchy voice.

  Bailor glanced at Rion, who nodded in an indication to relent. On the eve of their big break-in, they didn’t need to deal with Wud’s body, even if Rion wouldn’t have been too saddened if it worked out that way.