This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 9781702349611
Copyright © Timothy Nguyen, 2019
Contents
Copyright- Page 1
Note from the Author- Page 3
Introduction- Page 4
Chapters 1 to Epilogue- Page 5-293
Note from the Author
First of all, I’d like to thank you for picking up this book and deciding that it was worth your time to read. I’ve dedicated over five months to this work, and I have done the best I can to deliver it to you in its best form. But this isn’t about the book, this is about me.
My name is Dylan Nguyen, and as of writing this I am seventeen years old and a senior in high school. I’ll spare the details of my entire life, but all you really need to know is that I have an intense love for literature and history, and this book is my contribution to that. To me, writing is a way to express the truth of the heart and expose the human condition in a way that most everyone can understand. In an age of audiobooks, even literacy is no longer a barrier to reading, as you can just have a book read to you. It’s this exchange of information that I absolutely love. No matter what time or place you are from, literature has had an impact on you. Sure, it may be vastly different for each person, but ultimately it carries the same power.
Literature holds the entire collective imagination and history of mankind. I myself am particularly fond of the study of History and all that she has to offer, but literature… Literature as a whole contains every imagined thought that has ever been put to paper and thrust into the public sphere. Shakespeare created plays that echo throughout our own age despite being written hundreds of years ago, the works of a few philosophers have created entire nations, and it hurts my brain to think about the whole of Literature and what it contains.
And this book which I have spent countless hours of work on, this book that I have poured my heart and soul into, this book is my meagre addition to that grand hoard of mankind’s consciousness. I hope that you find within its pages something, whether it be hope, appreciation, or just plain ‘ol enjoyment. Again, thank you, and may this book serve you well.
Introduction
The year is 2050, and the future dreamed of at the beginning of the century is being realized. In 2025, the first civilian moon colony, Luna 1, was founded by the legendary SpaceX company. By 2030, mankind was growing by leaps and bounds, spearheaded by American entrepreneurs and foreign powerhouse companies, and the first base on Mars was realized soon thereafter. Millenia spent looking towards the stars, and now we were living among them. Now, in 2050, the United States, England, Russia, China, and the European Union have laid claim to properties across the Solar System. The future has arrived.
However, the future is not as idyllic as it first seems. While we broke free of our terrestrial bonds, mankind's petty squabbles quickly followed, and a disconnect between the motherland and the frontier has resulted in tension beyond belief. Megacorporations and Nations control space, but the nations are disconnected from their people, and the corporations exist only for profit. Many labor laws simply aren't enforced by the governments on Earth, so abuses of basic human rights are extremely common, hearkening back to the days of Rockefeller and Morgan.
The Colonies themselves are rather diverse, with every major settlement being centered around an internationally owned and operated spaceport, even if the nationalities making the cities keep their regions separated. However, the cities are rather terrible in that only the rich have the normal amenities that those on Earth would have, and it gets progressively worse the further away from the port you go, with those on the outskirts living in squalor not too unlike the Brazilian Favelas, or the great slums of India, while those in the city center live in comparative luxury, often reaping the profits of companies like Aerotec.
Between government neglect and corporate tyranny, it isn't hard to imagine why Mr. John "Jack" Cabe, a second-generation Martian settler and low-income mine worker, is so discontent with Earth, among others.
Chapter 1
Brrring brrring, the alarm sounded next to Jack's ear, and he fumbled his arm over to it to shut it off. "Bleedin' clock. Better get started on the day," Jack grumbled, throwing the blankets off of his body and rolling out of bed, "Don't want overseer Erin shocking me again with the flog." Jack walked over to his bathroom, or what should have been a bathroom. He ran his hands through his dusty brown hair, "There's that ugly mug I know so well. Now, where is my razor?" Jack groaned as he rooted around through the space around the sink before pulling a pitiful and flimsy razor out, "Rusted. Of course. Stubble it is."
Jack made his way into the next room, careful not to bust his head on the much too short doorframe. Seriously, whose idea was it to make the doorframes under six feet tall? He grabbed a nutrient bar out of an Aerotec branded box, chewing on the mucky and leathery junk while he threw on his work outfit.
"White-ish shirt? Check," It was covered with grime that couldn't be washed out by the weak communal washing machine, "Coveralls? Check," The synthetic denim was fraying, but it held together well enough. Jack finished his evaluation,"Welp, everything seems to be in order, got my ID pass, got my phone... Yep, Everything is accounted for. Fun." Jack opened the door and walked out into the crowded streets of New Columbia, heading west to the Mine. He waded into the influx of dirty miners and factory workers, of all races and creeds, all just as dirty or dirtier than he, all answering to the iron fist of Aerotec in some capacity.
He was walking along when a young woman bumped into him, her head nearly hitting him in the chin. She whipped her modest and dirty blonde hair out of her face and looked up with surprise. She turned her head up and said, "Oh hey Jack, didn't mean to crash into you like that."
At first, Jack was surprised, but he responded once he figured out that it was his friend Valerie, "Hey Val, don't worry, I'm not going to rip your head off. Come on let's get to the Mine, you hooligan," Jack took her hand in his and got her back up to speed with the rest of the crowd, his steel-blue eyes focused with a protective glare, "What's the rush, anyway?"
"Oh, same 'ol same 'ol, trying to get to work on time so I don't get... Punished." She winced with a recent memory of pain.
"Yeah, fair enough. Overseer Culloch's rough on you with the flog, ain't he?" Jack remembered the last time: Erin had drawn blood with the supposedly "non-lethal" flog and Jack had to carry a bleeding and broken Val to the medical station, then to her house. "Someone ought to report him or something."
"Report Erin? It wouldn't help, he works for Aerotec, and Aerotec doesn't care about the welfare of Colonists. That's a fact of life sweetie." Val spoke morosely, perhaps a tad too cynical for a 24-year-old.
"Fair enough... C'mon Val, let's not be late again." Jack tugged her arm as they walked.
"Whatever you say, Jack, it's not like we haven't been walking while we've been talking," Val rolled her eyes "Besides, it's just a flogging, not murder or anything."
Jack's grip on her arm tightened slightly, and when he spoke his voice had a definite edge to it, "Val, I'm not sure you realize this, but he damn near killed you the last time, and if he tries to lay a hand on you again I am not responsible for any rage-induced crimes I might commit. I am not letting my best friend in the world get her freaking spine snapped by some corporate puppet with a flexible cattle prod!"
Val blushed a little at how much he cared, but she was worried about how much he might act on his words. "Just don't go getting yourself into trouble, okay? I know you care, but I don't want you getting yourself killed over me. Besides, once we g
et enough money saved up we can go work somewhere else, maybe in the Russian Prospect with Stan." She said, hoping to discourage him from doing anything.
"As great as that sounds, it probably isn't going to happen. Aerotec has a tight grip on these things, and... Well, at least we have each other Val. Best friends since 2039 and into the foreseeable future, ain't that right?" Jack thought about the conditions Stan faced on a daily basis. Aerotec's Rossnebo branch isn't particularly great either, even though Stan had generally better conditions.
"Very true Jack, very true. Let's hope Culloch isn't too hard today." Val smiled, even though she had the same doubts and fears.
"Let's hope." He said with grim hesitation. And with that, they entered the mine and went to work.
Chapter 2
Valerie worked in machine maintenance in Sector 1A, while Jack worked in the Mine itself in Sector 9b, deep inside the mountain. He worked to extract ore with some large drill-headed and machine, and he was decent at using it. Today, he was working to drill out a new shaft, as usual, and he was already covered in the typical red dust of Mars. Today seemed like it was just going to be another typical day.
"Cabe, get on the job already, we've been waiting for you to get your mangy tail in here." Dale, the shift manager, chided playfully.
"Yeah whatever, Dale, you know how it is out there. Not even a hundred years out and it already feels like the streets of some third-world metropolis," While he spoke, Jack climbed into his machine, and continued doing his checks, "Yea, you'd think they'd make some metro lines out here from the main city, instead of letting us all walk back and forth. I'm tellin' ya, a hundred years and we'll have the main thoroughfare lookin' like a trench."
Dale chuckled at that, and retorted, "Yea, well maybe if they cared they'd ferry us all back and forth with limousines from the mother planet!"
"We can only hope Dale, we can only hope..." Dale was a good enough guy, and he was absolutely great as a supervisor, unlike the Mine's overseer. Erin Culloch, an angry drunkard with a propensity for severe punishment regardless of the actual offense.
Come to think of it, Dale was probably the only nice guy in Aerotec's chain of management, at least on the civilian side. The corporate side was rotten to the core.
Jack set to work, activating his machine and maneuvering it to the sizable tunnel he had already dug over the past few weeks. Luckily, most of the systems were automated, and Jack's only real job was making sure the machine didn't break and stayed on track. The only time he really had to do anything was when chunks of rock got stuck in the machine and made it slow down. When that happened, he had to use his pickaxe to break them apart and get the machine going again.
This process of digging, then cleaning, then digging again carried on for some hours, and the day was actually pretty ordinary.
Or it was until later that afternoon when a worried Dale pulled Jack off of duty and to the side. "You're being paged to 1A Jack, Miss Ballew is in trouble again," Dale was obviously worried, and it showed in his voice, "There's even talk of another flogging by Culloch himself."
At that, Jack's fists clenched, and he spoke. "He better not, or it'll be the last thing he ever does. If that bast-"
"It's not just Valerie, Jack." He said with a sickened look plastered across his face, "They want you too."
"The 'ell do they want me for!? I haven't done anything!" Jack snarled with impotent rage.
"I know Jack, but you have to go. I'll call your friend in the Russian Prospect to come to get you if it gets bad enough." Dale stated while did his best to get Jack to calm down.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Wish me luck," Jack grunted, trying to be kinder to Dale, "But if either of us dies, I'm haunting you first."
Jack stormed off to the transportation rail at the front of the sector, his knuckles white against the shaft of his pickaxe. Anger rising in his gut, he boarded the train and made his way to Sector 1A.
Chapter 3
A few minutes later, Jack arrived in Sector 1A and was immediately met by armed guards who took any potential weapons off of him and then escorted him to the "courtroom". Personally, Jack thought it looked more like a coliseum with its large walls and circular appearance, coupled with a flogging post in the center of the room. Seated at the far end of the room was Overseer Culloch, his graying red hair in a frazzled mess and his shirt broken under his suspenders.
He spoke in his nasal yet deep voice, with an intolerable uppish air to him, "MISTER CABE! How... lovely to see you. It has come to my attention that you and Ms. Valerie Ballew 'ave been repeatedly late to work, and were seen socializing together in the streets this morning. As you know, the punishment for such disorderly behavior is ten lashings, accompanied by five more for each repeat offense... This is your fifth such offense for disorderly conduct, and it is Ms. Ballew's tenth. To further discourage you, she gets to go first. Bring her out!"
A door on the other side of the stadium opened, and Valerie, with only her pants and a bra on, was chained to the flogging post. Meanwhile, Culloch rose from his seat with a nasty metal and rubber whip in his hands, the pommel humming with an electric buzz.
Jack was insatiably angry and tugged at the chains around his wrists, but he was held back by the large security guards. However, that did not stop him from opening his mouth: "YOU BASTARD! YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS! THIS IS AN ABUSE OF OUR RIGHTS! DON'T YOU LAY A BLOODY HAND ON HER! I'LL HAVE YOUR-"
Before he could continue his tirade, one of the guards muzzled him with a piece of cloth tied so tightly around his mouth that blood trickled from the corners of his lips, leaving him only to mumble rather loudly.
"Is that more disorderly conduct Cabe? I ought to add that to Ms. Ballew's punishment, but I think you really deserve it more. In fact… Bring the mutt here, and take Ms. Ballew. Mr. Cabe will get her punishment as well for this... Defamation and Slander, along with his," Culloch paused as if he was thinking of ways to inflict harm, "Other offenses. Sixty lashes."
Jack was dragged to the post and chained down, his shirt was ripped off, and the flog was readied. Culloch began lashing and by the tenth stroke, his back had begun bleeding. By the thirtieth, it was covered in bloody but electrically cauterized wounds. By forty he had passed out. The last twenty were spent on Valerie, and the two were left in the Courtroom and dismissed from working the rest of the day.
Luckily Val was still conscious, and she made her way over to Jack. "Jack, Jack wake up! Jack, you're... Oh shit..." His back was already mostly blackened with bruises that were crisscrossed with bloody gouges. "Where's Stan when we need him? At least you're alive."
Just then, a man in a supervisor's garb walked into the room, and he carried a cellphone and some bandages. It was Dale Perkins from 9B.
"Dale? Why.. Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be supervising 9B?" Val asked, unaware of Jack and Dale's friendly relationship.
"Well, yes, but I promised Jack that if anything happened, I'd help out. So I brought a phone that can contact your Russian friend, and some bandages and antiseptic if it'll be any help." He seemed somewhat oafish with his compassion, but he did and meant well.
"Well Dale, for someone who works with Aerotec Management, you sure do have a soul. Thank you, a billion times, thank you. Now if you could tend to Jack's wounds while I call up Stan, that would be great." Valerie smiled as they traded.
Dale seemed to choke back his bile, "Uh, sure thing Val, we have accidents all the time down in 9B, I can handle this. You go do your thing." Dale set to work cleaning and bandaging Jack's back while Valerie walked to a different area of the stadium and dialed a number from memory and, to her surprise, it was picked up almost immediately.
A familiar voice questioned her in Russian, from what she could tell the phrase was "Who is it?".
"Listen here you bloody Ivan, it's Val, Jack's been," Val glanced over at his unconscious form, "We'll he's been hurt. It's pretty bad, we need you to come to the mine and pick us up"
"Ah, V
alerie! Da, it is not problem! I will come get you two, and we can come back to my place and have drink... "
"Stan, I don't think you understand, Jack is... He's knocked out, and his back is bloodied from the 40 lashings he took."
"Oh... Oh! Okay Val, am on way now!" Stan blurted out, and Val could hear his keys jangling on the other end of the line.
"Try not to wreck our one working vehicle, we have him bandaged up so he isn't dying or anything." Val groaned, hoping the big Russian wouldn't tear down half the city on his way to the Mine.
"Okay, but I will still hurry because you two are best friends in world. I will be there in... Thirty minutes, give or take fifteen 'cause of traffic." Stan replied in his thick Russian accent, and he could be heard getting into his vehicle, an old busted up four-door car, one of the first built on Mars. That didn't mean it was expensive though, just old.
"Alright Stan, just get here soon, we'll crash at your place," Val answered quietly.
"Sounds like deal Val, will be there soon." They ended the call, and Valerie went back to tending to Jack and Dale.
"How bad is it Dale?" She looked down at Jack's body, his back covered in bandages. Luckily she could see he was still breathing.
"He'll be fine eventually. Culloch really busted him a good one this time, even made it down to the ribs in a few spots. Honestly, he's lucky to be alive."
"It should have been me Dale, not him. Culloch is just such an ass that-" Val tried to finish but Dale interrupted.
"Hey, stop that right now Miss, Jack did what he did to protect you, not to make you get all sad about him getting his back torn to pieces. Now, what we need to do is get him up off of the ground and onto something with wheels, so we can move him to your buddy's car when he gets here," Dale said, his tone less determined and more fearful, ''But he's going to be in much rougher shape if we manhandle him into the back seat of a car. So I'm gonna go see if the medical bay has a stretcher they'll lend me, if not, I'll improvise. Maybe I'll have the boys down in nine bring a rolling cart or a large steel-whatever.
Jack Cabe Page 1
