by Mark Zubro
Joe looked at the monitors. “The pirate fleet is leaving fast.”
Zmond gazed at his readouts, tapped his fingertips on a few more control buttons, pointed out the window while looking back at Joe and Mike. He said, “I wish we could do that to you.” He raised his hand and aimed it at the door. “We saved your sorry asses. Now get out! You’ve got meetings and work to do. Leave!”
Mike bit back an angry retort. Zmond, just as Bex, could make trouble for others as well. Mike’s shoulders slumped. They may not be able to physically defeat him, but there were other ways to torture people.
He walked out with Joe. In the hall the guards dispersed. Mike and Joe hugged for a moment.
The authorities had tried to ban public and private displays of affection among their gay prisoners. Mike and Joe had ignored them. Mike hoped the others were doing so as well.
Joe said, “We’re still alive.”
Mike asked, “For how long?” It wasn’t the first time either of them had asked that question of the other.
Joe said, “It’s like standing on an eternal precipice.” Both Joe and Mike’s communicators beeped. They looked. People were waiting for them at meetings. A quick hug and kiss and they were off to their duties.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mike’s days and nights ranged from heart-hammering excitement to tedious learning while mixed with the total boredom of a prisoner but sprinkled with bouts of mad passionate sex with Joe.
The sex with Joe was fabulous. The rest of the experience was pretty much shit. At least he had someone to share it with.
Not all their waking hours were as fraught as today. So far he wondered what else could go wrong. He realized that the way he’d been living, pretty much whatever could go wrong had gone wrong. Presuming this was a great adventure, and of that Mike was no longer sure, he knew he was at a low point. He was doing things Earthlings had only imagined. Maybe that’s what heroic adventures really were. Heart pounding excitement mixed with boredom but with mostly plodding one step at a time and dealing as best as possible with whatever came next.
As one of the two people in charge of the new colony, he felt he had to learn all parts of colonization. Others had done it. He learned what a colony organizer did and then every aspect of each separate thing from agriculture to waste disposal that a new colony had to take into consideration. They even had the Hrrrm equivalent of DVDs with how-to-set-up-a-colony in four hundred twenty-seven easy to access volumes that he could call up on his communicator. He’d gotten through 377 of them so far.
Mike had found out early that in this quarter of the galaxy, space exploration was not random. Just like the few extraterrestrial expeditions on Earth, everything here was planned to the last detail. The key was this civilization had been doing interplanetary/interstellar travel for thousands and thousands of years and the protocols and procedures for colonization of a new planet were clear and set. There were variations for the topography of the planet to be explored and exploited, but there were experts in all fields for just that. Three previous expeditions over the past five thousand years had tried and failed to make 6743-0A a viable planet. No valuable minerals had been found and the soil and climate were too poor for profitable crops.
Mike read technical manuals on governance and making colonies self-sustaining. From Religionists assigned to their training, Mike got some information which may or may not have been useful and lectures and harangues about theology which definitely were not. From people who truly came to teach, Mike had learned a lot. The people who taught them didn’t stay with the ship. People who lived along the way joined them. Trainers in faster ships caught up with them and left at their whim.
Mike realized it was the middle of the afternoon. He spent the rest of it on sewage, one of the prime considerations on a new planet.
Mike liked the sewage guy, Yirch. He could be funny. He was also excellent at explaining things. He knew the requirements of setting up the colony’s disposal and retrieval system in tedious detail. The waste from the bathrooms would be directly connected to the energy recycling system on 6743-0A as they were on all planets. Mike preferred technocrats like Yirch. He had to know his shit, so to speak.
The actual bathroom facilities would be like those Mike had on the ship here and like in his prison, only not as good, used models in need of repair. They also had to find a way to build a recycling system. Then they needed to find someone who could repair all such facilities or at least someone who was able to learn to repair them. They had set up another committee to do that.
Mike’s adrenaline rush had worn off. He had trouble staying awake, but the other members of the committee sat around the table with him, looking as bored and desperate to stay awake as he.
At around seven Mike slumped down another corridor to a meeting with Mool, a young man who was the planetary meteorologist and climate specialist. Mike had learned a great deal from him about the climate of planet 6743-0A. Mool was also the one who spoke most often to Mike honestly about what was going on. He was not gay and not an exile. As all their other teachers had done or would do, Mool would return to his own world when his stint in the classroom on the ship was finished.
Mike just wanted to be in Joe’s arms, but he had obligations.
In the room they met in, Mool put his communicator on the table and set it to create a random conversation so that anyone listening wouldn’t be able to hear what they actually said. Mool did it every time they met. While Mool was not one of Joe and Mike’s spies, he was willing to be as helpful to them as he could. He thought what was happening to LGBT people was unconscionable. He often had information on a wide range of topics and not just those related to climate.
Mike began, “It’s been a hell of a day so far.”
“You survived an attack.”
“For how much longer?”
Mool shrugged. “I have information on the attack. The rumors are convoluted and in some cases contradictory. Some say Bex held back some of the ships to lead the attackers into a trap. Others that Bex was working with the attackers in hopes of destroying this ship.”
“He’s the government, and he’d want a government ship destroyed?”
“Not so much the ship. Just you. If the ship and everyone else on it got blown up, it wouldn’t bother him.”
Mike started to reply, but Mool held up a hand. “Unfortunately, there is more. I’m sorry. The ship that surrendered? That Bex blew into oblivion?”
“Yeah.”
“Several rumors. It was a transport ship with more gay people that Bex used as a decoy.”
“We weren’t scheduled for more prisoners.”
“Bex can change any schedule he wants.”
“You said rumors.”
“Or it was just as they said, an enemy ship that gave in and got blasted.”
“That happens often around here?”
“Thousands of years of interstellar fighting have seen crosses and double crosses even complex multiple crosses. Another rumor is that Bex and the Sky Pirates were working together and Def, the leader of the Pirates, was willing to sacrifice a ship and its crew.”
“For what purpose?”
Mool said, “At this point, I’m not sure Def or Bex know why. They’re trying to gain an advantage. They’re trying to gain you. I think they’re willing to try any cockamamie scheme to capture and keep you.”
“Innocent people died.”
“They were in a fighting ship and knew they were in a war.”
Mike’s voice rose, “They were surrendering.”
Mool used soothing tones. “I’m not saying any of this is right or fair. I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m trying to help you out as much as I can, but I can’t make their evil go away.”
Mike swayed between fury and despair. Bex hated him so much, and Mike didn’t know how to deflect, redirect, or rechannel that hatred. With such an implacable enemy there really was only one outcome. An early death, certainly for him, most likely for Joe and all the others.<
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Mike said, “I feel hopeless and outraged. What is to be done?”
Mool said, “Not everyone is hostile to you and all gay and lesbian people.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“There is one other explanation: it was all faked to be a psychological ploy to defeat you, to cause you to commit suicide.”
“How would that work?”
“They know greed isn’t your ruling passion as it is for so many of them. They consider it a weakness that you worry about others. If you see them kill so many because of you, you might despair.”
Mike said, “Or just make me the most pissed-off man in the universe. I could give Bex a run for his money.”
“Or it could be a mix of a fortuitous circumstances mixed with Bex’s penchant for cruelty.” Mool shrugged. “We may never know, but I’ll try to find out.”
Mike fumed and raged inside, but mostly he felt helpless.
Mool squirmed in his seat.
“What?” Mike asked.
“I’m afraid there’s other news. And, unfortunately, on this one my source is pretty reliable.”
Mike waited.
“There was a rebellion on the Lesbian holding planet with the largest number of detainees. The leaders refused en masse to obey.” Mool’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They were executed on the spot. Twenty of them.”
Mike gasped. When he caught his breath, he said, “This is true?”
“I learned this from a source that’s been reliable in the past.”
Mike felt himself near tears. Mool remained silent while Mike pulled himself together.
Mool continued in the softest of voices. “In a very ghoulish way, this may benefit you and the men here.”
“How?”
“Chaos has erupted in the whole Lesbian collection program. Without their own leaders, the others have just given up. It’s like the whole program just stopped and has descended into recriminations and retribution among the women, among the guards, among the Religionists in charge. They’re pulling back and slowing down.”
“The program’s going to be discontinued?” Mike couldn’t keep the sound of pathetic hopefulness out of his voice.
“No, I’m sorry, no. I wish that it were going to be like that. The government has become more repressive and more violent. Torture is now the norm.”
Mike bowed his head. He let the feeling of hopelessness wash over him. After several minutes, he asked, “How are we supposed to go on?”
Mool shrugged. “I think the universe is as it has always been. We endure until we die. I’m so sorry.”
Mool let the silence run several more minutes then said, “We should probably get to our normal business. It has to be done no matter how awful Bex is. You’ve got a colony to set up.”
“If we ever get there.” Mike checked his communicator for his latest list of questions for Mool. Some he’d asked before but was hoping for updated information. There were always new ones.
“Are they going to have a separate planet for transgender people?” Mike already knew that the lesbians would be exiled on a separate planet. The argument for this made by the Religionists had been, “We want to keep them from making more of their own.”
Mike had said to Mool at that time, “That makes no sense.”
Mool had replied, “You didn’t ask me if they made sense. You asked me what they said. Once you’ve got idiocy and belief triumphant anything remotely resembling fact is useless.”
To his question about the transgendered, Mool said, “They’re arguing about it. Most don’t want the expense. The Religionists always dreamed of destroying all of you. Unfortunately, since they do not believe in a reality-based world, they never stopped to figure out what would happen if they were forced to compromise, nor did they consider how much that would cost, much less how it would work in practical terms. And picking random useless planets is not easy. Most planets have some use. There are actually few that are just a big nothing like yours, and the one they have for the lesbians.”
“Someone must have pointed the costs out to them.”
“Their own statisticians.”
“So what happened?”
“They didn’t believe them. See, once you go with the concept of belief, I believe thus and so, you are then in the realm of dealing with all of reality with your own opinion. The old conundrum, my ignorance is as good as your knowledge comes into play. In reality it comes down to who has the most money and the most firepower.”
Mike muttered, “Another universal concept.”
Mool said, “I heard about your meeting with Bex. How did it go?”
“About the same as all the other meetings. He made threats, and I avoided getting snotty. If I do, he keeps threatening to kill gay people.”
“And he would.”
Mike shook his head.
Mool watched Mike for several moments then said, “We should probably turn to more prosaic matters.”
Mike nodded.
Mool said, “They tried to give you the most outdated digging equipment.”
On planet 6743-0A, they would have to bore into the mountains to make habitable living quarters and/or expand what had been left by previous colonization attempts.
Mike found himself fighting battle after battle to get the best or at least adequate supplies and equipment.
Already his reports that they had been given substandard training, equipment, and information had caused ripples. Mike and those sympathetic, such as Mool, had to work to keep the colony from becoming a death trap through bureaucratic neglect or back-stabbing chicanery.
“So why did we get the newest equipment this time?”
“The people who make new machines have a better lobby than the people who own all the scrap metal.”
“So we’ll get state of the art?”
“State of the art will be paid for. Precisely what will be delivered is uncertain. Those who favor your faction and are using their power to inspect what you’re getting are making some progress. Not everyone is ruled by greed and the all-mighty dollar. There are some people who have a conscience. Your best hope is that the Religionists continue to sink money into this and go broke and lose all power.”
“How long will that take?”
Mool said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know. To be honest, it could be never. You could be stuck here forever, or at least for your lifetime.”
Mike checked his list then asked, “Any other news?”
Mool said, “That’s all the non-climate news I’ve gotten. I now have up-to-date climate data.”
Mool was trying to determine if there was a sure way for the men who would land in a week to be able to survive. The question he’d been exploring had been why other attempts at colonies had been abandoned on planet 6743-0A. Mool had surmised from his research that numerous expeditions had devastated the planet in trying to find anything of value.
Mool said, “Technically in terms of climate and topography, it’s possible for people to live there. As long as the supply ships keep coming. If they stopped, then you’d die. Unless you manage somehow to make the place self-sustaining.”
Mike said, “We’ll have to try.”
CHAPTER SIX
After his talk with Mool, Mike felt like crawling all the way back to his prison cell. It was late, and he was tired. They’d given up putting guards on him. His captors presumed the threat to the lives of other LGBT people would keep him in line.
They were right.
Mike didn’t think they’d need much of an excuse to begin executions on a massive scale, but he wasn’t about to chance it.
He trudged down a dark gray corridor.
Mike entered their room. Joe sat at a Plexiglas-type desk/table. The top was filled with what looked like mini-iPads. The difference was the surface had numerous black dots along with a readout screen.
Joe looked up. His face looked tired and anxious. Mike forgot his desperation, anger, and depression, crossed the room and stood next to his h
usband. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s been another one.”
“Where? How many this time?”
Long before the Senate had acted, the Religionist worlds had passed strict anti-gay laws. For many years there had been protests and massacres of protesters. Another unintended consequence for the Religionists in passing the Hrrrm-wide laws was that now the practices and procedures on their own home worlds were subject to oversight by the central government. They couldn’t just get away with randomly torturing and killing gay people, and prior to the law’s passage there had been some horrific massacres. There were still some. Mike was heartsick at each report.
“It was a protest on Planet 7835-3P. It’s in the heart of the Religionist sector.” On the screen in front of him, Joe drew an outline around a cluster of stars. Mike had begun to learn the star charts so he had a notion about where the sector was in relation to them.
In a hushed whisper Joe said, “Seventeen died.”
Mike gasped and plunked onto a chair. He told Joe about what Mool had reported about the lesbian leaders.
They gazed at each other in horror. After he recovered himself enough, Mike asked, “What happened on Planet 7835-3P?”
“They refused to go quietly. They figured it was better to die free than to die in exile in some prison.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m not sure they’re wrong.”
“It was an immense protest, thousands of people. Guards tried shooting liquid zukoh into the crowd. No one knows where the Religionists got it. The guards didn’t have much of it. It’s too volatile and too expensive, but it doesn’t take much of that stuff. Witnesses say it happened quickly. The guards didn’t turn it on more of the protesters because they ran out. The only shadow of good news is that the Religionists used up their whole supply of liquid zukoh, and since it’s so volatile it also backfired onto those doing the firing and a couple of the officials who had come to watch the slaughter were killed, more than a dozen guards and several Religionist sector leaders.”
Mike was the only one who had an implant that could fight off an attack of liquid zukoh. He’d beaten Bex twice.
