I sent a message to the recorder mech to meet me at the plain surrounding Crater Poncelet. I left my floor and went to the ground floor, bought an emergency kit with a flare and rented a dune buggy – a ridiculous contraption that looked like my daughter's HoverTrike, only made of less sturdy materials - with my navigator programmed for the Poncelet Crater, north of Langrenus. I headed out to the northern highlands, crossing the eastern edge of the Mare Imbrium, wondering just what I would find.
. . .
The navigator map's lights flickered rapidly as I approached my goal. It would take me three days of riding before I got there and along the way the cursed buggy kicked up dust, crashed through rocks and swerved and jiggled around small craters – and large ones. The steering was terrible and I was sure I would develop arthritis after this was all over. The cursed thing made me feel every darned bump of the lunar terrain and, man, were there a lot of those! I would have much preferred a hover craft of any sort, but those had all been rented out. I passed by a few lonely looking outposts, one which had a few bed rooms available and a pub attached. In fact, all of them did.
But I'd decided to camp out in the open desert after the first forty-eight hours of travel, to experience the Great Outdoors. Terrible idea! Sleeping in my buggy in my spacesuit was not my idea of a good night's rest and once was enough!
I'd noticed after two days of travel that the buggy was running slower and riding rougher than usual. I fought anxiety down wondering what it could be. It was a brand new issued vehicle and thoroughly vetted before I took it on the road. What could possibly be wrong now? Hopefully there would be some kind of way station or pit stop with a mechanic the next time I stopped. I didn't have to panic too hard; I did bring flares.
The next cantina and boarding house looked a little more lively than the last three outposts. There were a lot of hover cars parked outside and small barges landing and lifting off from landing pads at a tiny spaceport a few kilometers away. Sending out a message for the little mech to return to me at my dune buggy through my data pad, I slipped inside the little biosphere and then inside the cantina. It was packed with people. Mostly miners and other blue collar types, by the looks of it. I ordered a hard cider at the counter and sank down on a stool, fatigued. I got a few odd looks from other patrons probably surprised to see a new face. I decided to ask about my transport. Couldn't hurt and the bartender seemed friendly enough as he poured my cider.
“You look tired. Rough trip?”
“You could say that. I'm having a little trouble with my dune buggy. Rides real hard and stops and starts suddenly. Any mechanics or a fix-it haus in the area?” I asked.
“You know you gotta empty the debris pan once a day on those rumpity things, don't you?” He said, giving me a look of bemusement. I stared at him in surprise and then grinned sheepishly.
“Well, I do now.”
“And you're all the way out here?”
“Yeah.”
“Try emptying out the buggy's debris pan every twenty-four hours. Gets full of dust and debris quite quickly on primitive lunar roads. You must be one of those guys used to the big cities on Earth with their sleek, smooth transports, I'll bet?”
“Yeah. Big city guy here. Can't lie. Riding a dune buggy isn't my cup of tea but its cheaper than a hovercraft.”
“Well it's no problem, really. There's a rail handle right in the front bottom of most of them. You pull it out, empty the pan, it's pretty big so do it carefully, then put it back in and you should be good to go.”
“That easy? Thanks!” I was genuinely relieved at hearing this. I wouldn't have to search for a mechanic after all.
“No problem. Say, what brings you out here?”
“I'm visiting Langrenus and decided to take a look at what's further out, is all. I hear they're building a new city out here.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Is everybody out here looking forward to future developments?”
“I don't know that everyone is but I am. It might put some keener eyes on some of the nonsense these companies that operate out here get up to.”
“You're not afraid of being squeezed out of here?” I asked. He laughed.
“It's gonna happen anyway at some point. Corporations rule out here and they can claim imminent domain to steal anybody's land. The government won't do anything about it. So I say, might as well bring on the progress. I might get a lump sum out of it when the corporate gentry all land in, eventually.”
“Wow.” I said, taking a drink and rubbing my eyes. “I guess you find that everywhere these days. You know what? I hear there's a few mines out here that aren't quite on the level.” He glanced at me and looked around and then shrugged.
“The guys that come out here want to make a lot more money but I don't know if its worth it, you know? I hear a lot. I haven't seen anything though. I do hear about it. The conditions out there are bad. Words don't even begin to describe the situation.”
“Why doesn't anyone go to the authorities?”
“When they sign the strict confidentiality agreements they give up the rights, presumably, to recourse if something bad happens out there. Even if they lose limbs, get sick or die in the mines, they have no right to bring suit against the company.” These days people rallied around their companies and showed unfailing loyalty to them. Until terrible abuses like this happened. Then they were left feeling desperate, depressed and still looking for ways to fit in with company culture. It was frustrating and depressing to watch and experience. I should know.
“I guess folks can't do much more than cry into their ciders here.”
“Yep,” he gave me a sly look and then he stopped grinning. His expression took on a very somber look. My ears were on high alert.
“Things are bad enough without you telling tales, Danny!” Scolded a patron across the room, raising his voice. A few others laughed.
“Well you all can go piss off!” Shouted a man. He stumbled from his seat and fell to the ground. The bartender rolled his eyes.
“That'll be Danny. Always drunk. Hey, Chet! Would you throw him in the sleeper?” A big, burly man nodded and he and another large bouncer picked the man up and carried him off.
“We'll let him sleep it off. As usual.”
“Is he a regular here?” I asked. The bartender nodded and poured a rich, dark porter for another patron that just came up to the bar to order. When he came back I continued my inquiry. “What kind of tales does he tell?”
“The kind that make folks real uncomfortable. They sound ridiculous on their face but. . . “ He turned to me, his look deadly serious. “There's more than what you see going on out there. At least that's what I think.”
“Like what?” It seemed there were things on the bartender's mind that he wanted to share with a willing listener. Well let's hear it, man!
“That's just it. I don't know. I hear a lot of weird stuff but I don't know what's really going on out there.”
“Want to know what the deal is out there? I could tell you a thing or two!” Said the new guy who had just ordered. He came over to us and the bartender nodded to him.
“I used to have a homestead and hothouse farm out here before that company came in and bought my land, my land that I bought with my hard earned savings years ago!”
“Wait a minute! You had a homestead out here? On the moon?”
“Yeah. A few of us did in the early days of moon exploration. I had a profitable hydroponic fruit tree grove. There was a thriving water culture farming community out here years ago in the early days.”
“I had no idea.” I was truly surprised.
“Oh yeah. But powerful interests were more interested in transported crops and supporting the food pellet industry instead of trying to make the moon a crop-independent world. I think it still is the early days but things have changed. Big Politics and Big Business came out here and kicked us out. They haven't developed the land like they said they were going to either. The whole reason we homesteaders had
to move was because they claimed direly needed economic development. Imminent Domain. Fuh!”
“Are you talking about the mine over there near the Poncelet Crater?”
“That's the one. Well, one of the powerful business interests here, anyway.”
“They can't do that, can they? Business people are private property owners. One private property owner shouldn't be able to run rough shod over another property owner's rights.”
“In theory they shouldn't. But in reality when you have lasguns and lots of money behind you, you can flout the law. And who's going to call you on it?” It made me bristle just thinking about it.
“Do you think something else is going on?” Man, I could tell you some stories buddy, about secret stuff going on. I wondered if he knew what I knew about Mars. Surely folks out here weren't as coddled and ignorant as Earthlings were. He looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“You see, people have been disappearing. Now this is just hearsay. I have no actual proof. But I've noticed and overheard that some miners get sick working in the mine either from radon poisoning or lung cancer and they aren't given the adequate medication to protect them while working. In fact, they give them a fake medical cocktail of drugs. Something different from what the workers at the other mines receive before they go to work. They're bright red pills and they look strange from what some of the miners say. I think those pills serve another purpose.” Aha! Diamond's words about his smuggling days immediately came to mind.
“Where did you hear this?”
“From a guy who worked in that mine in Poncelet, owned by Hussa. He came in here about a year ago. Escaped is more like it, but he died a few days later. His skin was an odd color. It took on the faint glow of the lunar lights. People were freaked out ever since. We sent for the ambulance and they picked him up and took him to the center on Atticus, but we heard no more about it or him. I don't think he was the only one this happened to but they keep it hushed up. The company that runs that mine is cheap beyond belief! Workers there have inadequate clothing and equipment for space. It's not entirely protected by a bio-dome so they nearly die in there from lack of breathable air, the harsh temperatures, poisonous gases and environmental conditions or it's just the back breaking work that nearly kills them and then they are hauled off for medical treatment and never seen again.”
“You say this happened a year ago?”
“Yes. In fact, I've heard it's been happening longer than that. A really long time. No one is allowed to talk about it openly and since these miners sign strict confidentiality agreements they can't talk about it either. Even if they get hurt or die in the mines their families can't bring suit or any accusation, and trust me when I say that this company is very aggressive about protecting their profits and enforcing their agreements with their employees. Sometimes they employ spies that pose as miners in the pubs and cantinas around here. You have to be careful.” I glanced around.
“You know, I've got nothing against a company making profits but this sounds like a nightmare right out of the Gilded Age.” I said. He took a long drink and then fixed me with a curious look.
“Where are you going?”
“Just a jaunt, really. I'm curious about what the terrain looks like up close. I've seen enough of it on WSEL. I'm on an expedition for personal reasons.”
“Personal reasons?” He asked dryly.
“Is that so strange?”
“You should be prepared.”
“I'm prepared enough. And wired in enough if anything goes wrong.” I said. He shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
“So what does the terrain look like farther north?” I asked nonchalantly or tried to. The man eyed me with a knowing look. Did I come off as that naive?
“One of those nature adventure buffs, huh? Or are you a journalist checking the place out?” He took a swig and set it back down, regarding me closely.
“I'm no journalist. Although after what I've been hearing, I wish I was. I've just been hearing some weird stuff about the north and thought I'd ask questions, that's all.”
“Well, it looks the same everywhere on this dust ball.”
“Surely there are mountain ranges?”
“Of course, but not like on Earth.”
“With a farm and all I take it you've lived here a long time?”
“Yeah. I also worked in a mine up north a few years back after I lost my farm. Good pay. Me and a friend are thinking of going prospecting for radon ourselves and then selling it to Sunsee and Mariwend. Got a good pile of money saved up. They stole one living from me but I might be able to make a living doing that.”
“So you worked in the mines up north?”
“Yep. Not that really bad one, though. I wouldn't have made it out alive if I'd worked there. But there's better money in the northern ones than at the ones farther south near Langrenus.”
“I'll bet the work is harder?” I said and took a drink of cider.
“Most definitely. If you want to make the real money there's less regulation. In fact, there's no regulation. No big brother government watching and controlling everything. Dangerous work, no matter the mine you work, but it can be worth it if you get out of it in one piece. The drawbacks are that they can abuse you in the worst ways and there is no recourse.”
“Sounds like they make all their money back, then. I'm surprised they don't force them to stay in company barracks for sky-high rent and buy at company stores to take all that money right back out of peoples' hands.” I said sadly. The man lifted a brow.
“Who says they didn't? The only reason it didn't work is because there were independently operated stores and dirt cheap lodging houses that undercut the company owned ones and threatened to make nasty trouble for the mining companies if they weren't able to service the northern miners. So the company owned ones eventually closed down.”
“They had that kind of power to leverage with the mining companies?”
“A lot of those guys have deep connections in various smuggling societies. When you know and work with the same smugglers that the mines work with and get to know their dirty business, you'd be surprised what you can negotiate with them. Some of them folks out there that run those places are some real nasty characters and the mining companies would rather have things stay quiet out there than stir up confrontations with them. I think they are the only folks the mining companies actually fear. The good thing about the lodging and store owners is that they seem to generally be supportive of the miners out here making and keeping most of their hard-earned money, with all the crap they go through to work for it. That can always change though.” I was very surprised to hear this.
“No doubt.” I said quietly, letting it all sink in.
“That one mine, it's a secret one, a hidden mine. You can't just go and apply there. That's what I've heard.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.”
“I heard a new city is being built out here soon. I wonder how that's going to work if there's funny business going on up here. Unless they've managed to pay off a whole lot of contractors, politicians and government bureaucrats.”
“You never know. It'll be interesting how that goes down. More miners up north get radiation poisoning and lung cancer than workers in all the operative mines on the moon put together. It won't do to have a whole city full of sick people. That's why I stopped early. I made my money, I got out.”
“And now you'll hire others to mine radon?” I asked pointedly. He grinned.
“Yeah, well, at least I won't be doing it anymore. That's what counts.” Right. I thought grimly. Selfishness is always with us.
“You ever thought about being a miner?”
“Not really. I've got a comfy job already. I'm sure the pay is good, as you say, but I'm happy where I am.” I said.
“That's good. Look, I gotta go. Nice talking to you. I wish you well on your trip. Take lots of photos. Won't be nothing but dust and rock, though.” He laughed and draine
d his beer, then set the glass on the table.
Funny that. Reminds me of Mars.
“Too bad you're not a journalist. We need those guys up here looking around.” He left before I could correct him. Perhaps I didn't need to, because both he and the bartender, who was now busy with another customer, had been more than willing to divulge what they knew and it all helped me form a better general picture.
“Mmm-hmm. All you have to do is listen to the guys carping and complaining around here. You'll get all the news you can handle,” the bartender said to me. “By the way, there's a little kiosk right by the front doors. You can buy some radiation pills there from the dispenser. I just received a small shipment of them. If you're going anywhere near that area I'd advise you to buy some and take them before you reach the place. They might be of some help. Unless you want a huge hospital bill for radiation poisoning.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I said, truly grateful for it.
I drank my cider, wishing I had the eavesdropper. I could hear many conversations but they fought with each other for supremacy in the crowded cantina. As it turned out I didn't need it. The place was buzzing with information and I didn't have to work for it.
“Too much Radon. Had to get out of there. It's that one that nobody talks about. It's causing all the problems and you can't do anything about it because nobody acknowledges that it exists.”
“That's 'cause to most of them, it don't. They don't know it exists. They can do what they like and there's no one to stop them.”
“The problem is spreading. When you mention the lights are getting stranger people wave us off like we're crazy or something.”
“I say we finish this next project and abandon ship. Get out of here. I'd like to get a position in one of the mines down south. I heard Sam had to be taken out. . .taken out by stretcher yesterday.”
“Sam!” A chorus of others exclaimed.
Mission: Lights of Langrenus Page 6
