Lost Valor

by Kal Spriggs

  “That’s kind of messed up,” I said.

  “You have no idea. Fellow I learned this from, he lived in a nice house, pulled in five or ten marks a week, maybe more,” Simon grinned at me, “a skilled beggar knows how to spot the guilty ones. The ones where they know they’re rotten and they just give to feel better or for other people to think they’re better.” He waved down the street, “He was as healthy as you, but he knew how to play them.” Simon sighed, “I only wish I was so good.”

  “Doesn’t seem like an honest way to live,” I noted. It felt wrong to me to beg. I didn’t want or need help from these people, I just wanted an opportunity.

  “You’re too proud,” Simon sneered. “Even if you did look like me, you’d have that noble suffering expression. You got to realize this is a game, fos. You’re not asking for something, you’re suckering them, playing them.”

  “We need the money, though,” I protested.

  “We could get it other ways,” Simon scoffed. “Look, that one there,” he said, nodding his head at an approaching man in a suit. “See how he looks so superior? How he holds his nose up at the laborers?”

  “So?” I asked. The fellow he’d pointed out didn’t look much better off than the others. Maybe a bit cleaner. He was wearing a dark suit and a nicer jacket. His expression, I’d admit, was arrogant and he sneered as he saw Simon and I.

  “Please, kind sir,” Simon whined, “my brother and I, we’ve nothing to eat.”

  The man hesitated. His eyes darted around

  “No one to support us, you see,” Simon whined, “surely a wealthy man like you can spare something?”

  The man’s expression creased in a smile, “Of course.” He reached inside his coat and brought out a single plastic chip. He leaned forward, his heavy coat swinging forward as he dropped it in Simon’s bowl. “I’m a generous man.” He straightened up and looked around, as if hoping other passersby would note his generosity.

  “Thank you, sir,” Si,pm gushed. The man strutted off and Simon rattled his bowl with his right hand. “A hundredth mark,” he said in disgust. “Man like that could have afforded better.”

  “So he played you?” I asked with a smirk.

  “Oh, no,” Simon raised his other hand, inside it I saw a thick wallet. “Gollas like him never pay much, but they’re the easiest to pickpocket.” He hefted the wallet, “we should leave, he’s bound to notice soon.”

  ***

  We’d relocated to a different street corner several blocks away. “Stealing, thieving, that’s the second way to make money. It’s probably what Jonna will want you to do. You’ve got two good long legs, so you can run if yer spotted and you’ve sharp eyes, so you can spot the stuff worth taking. After I train you, of course.”

  I gestured at where he’d stowed the man’s marks, after throwing the wallet in the gutter. “Do we get to keep all that?” I was thinking about where I was going to earn a thousand Imperial Marks… and Simon had pocketed around thirty of them.

  “Different gangs are different. Jonna lets us keep almost half of what we earn from stealing. A quarter goes to the local Black Cloaks, House Saschsen, with another quarter to the Red Badges so they don’t crack down on us too hard,” Simon shrugged. “The rest to keeping us fed and maintaining our den.” He patted his pocket, “This kind of haul is nice, but you can’t count on it. The wealthy use electronic transfers most of the time, right through their implants. Hard to steal digital money without the right equipment.”

  “What, like hacking?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but we steer clear of that. That’s big crime, like what the clans do, and they don’t like us dabbling in it. We got to live on the margins, not take enough that it’s noticed or really complained about, else the red badges might figure they should make examples out of us.” He gave me a nasty grin.

  “These Red Badges and the Black Cloaks,” I asked, “are they like police?”

  Simon giggled, “Po-lice…” He shook his head, “I forget how fos you are.” He jerked his head down the street, “see those lights?”

  I looked that direction. I’d noticed that the buildings there were taller and seemed less delapidated. One of them was also well-lit, with bright floodlights, it rose up, higher and taller than anything around it.

  “That’s one of the pirate clan houses, one of their spires, and the buildings around it, that’s their followers, their people, ken?” Simon waited for me to nod, then he went on. “The Black Cloaks, they enforce the will of the pirate clans. They're muscle for the pirates, here in the Barrens. The Red Badges, they maintain the peace in the Barrens, that's it. Someone steps too far out of line, they come down on them like a hammer.”

  I frowned, then, “What about laws?”

  Simon stared at me, “Laws? No one who lives in the Barrens cares about laws. Here they can do whatever they want, and the Houses have free reign. They can enslave us, cripple us, kill us. The only time that law matters is when someone does something to one of them. The Red Badges enforce order and the law only matters when they see a way to make some of us on the bottom to hurt over it.”

  It was such a strange concept that I really didn’t understand how to process it. Back home, we had laws that the Enforcers maintained. If someone committed a crime, they were punished. These Red Badges sounded like they were mercenaries or worse.

  “Anyway, thievery of that level isn’t what I was going to show you,” he went on. “Stealing is one of the fastest ways to earn your way, it’s also one of the easiest ways to get crippled or killed.”

  “By the Black Cloaks?” I asked.

  “By whoever you stole from,” Simon answered. “The pirate clans, their Black Cloaks will put you down right in the street if they even suspect you stole from them. Then they’ll cut you up for replacement organs. Most of the vendors at the market, they’d just beat you, unless they had a deal with Jonna, then they’d have her beat you and you’d get thrown out.” He glanced at me, “Don’t lift from the wrong people.”

  “That guy you ‘lifted’ from?” I asked.

  “Probably a boss or manager at one of the cartel-run factories. Only matters to himself. If he goes to the Black Cloaks or the Red Badges complaining, they’ll laugh at him,” Simon pointed down the street. “Now, see them?”

  There were a group of four men coming down the street, in a loose formation around a woman. All of them were big and thick with muscle. Two of the men had artificial eyes. One had what looked like metal plates grafted into his exposed skin. Their clothing was dull black and they all wore black cloaks, with the sleeves trimmed in orange. The woman wore a bright orange jump-suit, that clung to her in a fashion that made me flush and look away.

  “They’re House Pyros,” Simon said. “Each of the big pirate clans have different dress. They're like gangs, only way more powerful and far more bloodthirsty. Their enforcers, from clan to clan, all wear black. Their primaries, their important members, they wear their hose colors, their senior enforcers, they’re like her, we call them Hunters.” There was an edge to Simon’s voice as he said that word. “Pray you never see a group of them when they’re on the Hunt.”

  He went on after a moment, “Pyros is one of the most powerful Houses, word on the street is that they have the favor of the Emperor. You avoid the Houses. You don’t steal from places that pay them for protection. You don’t steal from people they do business with. You don’t ever even look like you’re going to steal from them.”

  The five of them walked past us, the woman’s slitted eyes flickered across us and as they did, Simon bowed his head. “Get your head down,” he whispered at me, “or they’ll take it as a challenge.”

  I lowered my head a bit and fought the urge to put my back up straight. From what Simon had told me, these were criminals. I watched the five of them strut past us, the crowd parting around them, wanting nothing more than to attack them, to make them be the ones who were afraid.

  That shocked me a bit as I realized that I really was
afraid. I was far, far from home. Drakkus was strange and hostile. I'd fallen in with swindlers and thieves... and they were the only ones who seemed to treat me even as a human being.

  “There we go,” Simon interrupted my thoughts. “Perfect.”

  “What?” I asked.

  He gestured at a cargo truck that had pulled up in front of a building just across the street. Two burly men had started unloading boxes. “No real guards, just the men unloading. Perfect target.”

  I frowned at him, “What?”

  “You got to start earning your way, fos,” Simon grinned. “Go over there and grab a box and run for it.”

  I looked between him and the truck. “What's in the boxes?”

  “Who cares?” Simon shrugged. “Something we can sell. Maybe it's food, maybe it's electronics, maybe it's toys. Doesn't matter, because the people who work that building don't pay us or anyone else protection money, so they're open game.” Simon used his crutch to rise. “See you back at the lair.” He hobbled off down the street.

  I watched him go, then looked back at the truck. It sat there, the two laborers grunting as they lifted boxes out, carrying them through an open door in the building. They didn't seem alert. I didn't feel very good stealing from them. What if this was medicine or food for someone who needed it? What if one of these men were punished for the theft?

  What if Simon tells Jonna that I refused to do as I was told? I shivered as I considered that. That would be my strike two. The little bit of safety I had could be gone.

  I thought about the thousand Imperial Marks I needed to earn, just to go home. If those boxes could get me there... It was a purely selfish motivation and it ate at me even as I considered it. How far am I willing to go?

  I walked across the street, feeling a bit disconnected as I wove through the crowd, drawing closer to the truck. I approached from the side, out of sight of the two workers and trying to look as innocent as possible as I came up. Around the back corner of the truck, I could see both men grab boxes and turn... and that's when I made my move.

  I dashed around the corner and grabbed a box. It was heavier than I had expected, but I picked it up with both hands, turned and sprinted away.

  I heard a confused shout behind me, but I didn't slow. Running with a heavy box through the crowded streets wasn't easy. I shoved my way through, bowling over a couple of people as I ran. I made it to the street corner, turned and ran down the side street.

  My heart was racing and my breath was coming in whooping gasps.

  “Hey there, fos,” Simon called to me from a nearby alleyway, “over here.”

  I looked back, half expecting to see a mob of angry people chasing after me, but there was no one. A few people in the street were staring at me, as if I were peculiar, but no one had pursued me even this far.

  I hurried over to Simon. He led the way down the alley, limping along until we were out of sight of the street. “Alright, open it up.”

  I set the box down and fumbled with the lid. My hands were shaking and it took me three or four attempts to get the plastic cover off. I stared at the neatly stacked colored enamel balls inside. “What?” I asked. Each ball had a number on the side, some were white with colored stripes and some solid colors. I could only guess they were for table games like pool or billiards, but I'd only ever seen those games played digitally, not with real, physical balls.

  Simon reached in and pulled out a green ball with a white stripe. He shot me a smirk, “Nice job, fos.” He flipped it to me and I barely caught it, fumbling it in my hands for a moment. I looked down at it, feeling let down. I broke the law for this? The thought burned at me and I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I'd been hoping for something of value, like gemstones or gold bars or something.

  “Let's head back to the lair, ball-thief,” Simon laughed as he limped away on his crutch.

  “What about...” I trailed off, looking at the box of balls.

  “No way we'd get anything out of selling them and I can't see a use for them. Bring them or leave them... but keep the one as a souvenir. Congratulations, you're a thief, fos.” I followed after him, his mocking laughter ringing in my ears.

  ***

  Jonna waited for us as we got back to the lair. “How'd he do?”

  “He managed to run off with something heavy,” Simon answered. “Nothing of value, just some sports equipment.”

  “It's the attempt that counts,” Jonna appraised me as she said it. “Theft is something some people just can't do, or at least, can't do well.” She cocked her head, “You're too old to learn a lot of the pickpocket trade, too tall for it, too, but I'll have Simon work with you some, anyway. Even if you don't learn the skills, you'll need to know what it involves so you can help good pickpockets and sneak thieves.”

  She walked a circle around me, “You're too tall to blend into a crowd well, either. Too well-fed and healthy to do begging.” She came to a stop in front of me, “How do you feel about lying?”

  “My parents told me not to,” I answered immedately. Jonna and Simon both laughed at that and I smiled sheepishly. “Lying is how I managed to escape, so I can do it if I have reason.”

  “You've got a nice, honest face,” Jonna noted. “Clean you up, you might pass as a servant to a noble house, maybe even a junior noble.”

  “Too dark for that,” Simon scoffed.

  Jonna shot him a look, “True.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I was part First Wave and part Second Wave colonist. Back on Century, the Firsts had been the ones to purchase the charter and had been fairly homogenous, mostly from North America and Europe back on Old Earth. The Seconds had been sent on a prison transport, mostly made up of criminals and political prisoners sent from Southeast Asia. I had my father's dark hair and eyes and darker complexion, but I'd inherited my mother's height.

  “The noble Houses, that is pirates and non-criminals alike, all bleach their skin to look more like the Imperial Family,” Jonna answered. “Well, some of them do. Some others are just naturally that pale. Most of them either color their hair or have it replaced with synthetic hair that's the appropriate color for their House. You've got black hair and you're more tan than just about anyone on the planet. You'd never pass for a noble.”

  “Oh,” I answered. Not that I understood what that would matter.

  “Still, you've the look and more importantly, the pride of a well-off servant for a noble, or one of the pirate clans. Or as Simon suggested, even one of the Red Badges or Black Cloaks. Which means we can use you for a variety of swindles,” Jonna ran a hand through her hair. “Everything from Here Hold This to the Lost Prince to Grandfather's Inheritance.” She pursed her lips. “Give me a smile.”

  I forced myself to smile and she shook her head, “Not like that. A real smile. Smile like you're back home on whatever planet you came from.”

  I thought of home and my mom and dad, and I smiled. That smile flickered out as I thought of the last time I'd seen my mom, the last time I'd ever see my mom.”

  “Keep that first bit and you can even be a charmer, we could play the Sweet Young Man and some others,” Jonna mused.

  “He's too straight-laced,” Simon protested. “You should have seen his face when I told him to steal a box. Swindles require real dedication and a level head.”

  “You're just unhappy because no one would trust you long enough to hear your pitch,” Jonna snorted. “No, he'll do. Or he will after I work with him a bit, anyway.”

  She squinted at me. “That is, if you want to get the big payouts.”

  “Big payouts?” I asked.

  She nodded, “We haven't had a good face for it since Dary got pinched by the Black Cloaks, when he got cocky and tried to swindle a pirate from House Drake. But he pulled in a hundred Marks a week, sometimes more.” She waved around, “That's part of how we ended up here, rather than sleeping in a burned out building or out in the street.”

  I didn't have to think about it for very long. A hundred cr
edits a week would mean I'd earn enough to go home far quicker than anything else I'd thought of. Swindling people out of their money wasn't something I really wanted to do. Then again, I wanted to stay on this cold, miserable planet a whole lot less.

  I gave her a nod, “Yeah, teach me what to do.” I was going to have to make money somehow if I wanted to get back home. This seemed to be the way to do it.

  ***

  Chapter 13: Jonna Shows Me Her Heart

  Jonna corned me as Ted and I were filling each other in on our days. Ted had been describing the difficulty of tallying up math when half the kids in the group were illiterate and the ones that weren't, weren't good at math. I got the point, but he kept whining about it so I was actually grateful for the interruption. Don't get me wrong, I liked math, but Ted liked numbers. There was a big difference, when you thought about it. I liked solving problems and Ted, well, he just liked things being predictable and able to sort.

  “Come on,” she waved at me, “we need to prep you.” She didn't wait for me, walking back over towards where Simon sat, sorting through junk that other Ragabonds had brought in.

  I hurried to catch up, “Prep me for what?”

  She didn't look at me, “There's a few jobs that we can use you for, while we train you how to run a con-job. You've got an honest face, which means if we clean you up, you can stand lookout for some of our thieving jobs without drawing attention.”

  “Lookout?” I asked.

  “Black Cloaks come by, you signal our thieves and they run for it,” she nodded. “Murfee and Danggar are going out tonight, normally Simon would stand lookout for them, but he was out with you today, so...” She gave a shrug.

  “Simon said that the Red Badges were like police for the pirate clans and nobility?” I asked.

  Jonna stopped short and turned to look at me, “He filled your head with that junk, did he?”

  “What?” I asked in surprise.

  “I assume he gave you a spiel about conscription and the rest, too?” Jonna's expression darkened. She scowled in the direction of Simon who looked back at her with a bland expression. “Hock,” she muttered. “Look, the Barrens isn't like any other place...”