Dust

by Jason Hutt

  “They don’t want to go,” Mayor Andrews had said, “They’d rather take their chances with the Republic.”

  Max had looked back at the path leading to Resurrection. He felt the urge to run through the town, to knock on doors, and pull people out of their homes. But Max knew better, some people were happy in their little world and would only be dragged from it kicking and screaming.

  He looked back at Sharon, who gave him a tentative smile. There was no hug when she saw him at the pad, no moment where she leaped into his arms. She just looked at him with a mixture of guilt and remorse.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  Max nodded his head in response. His emotions were raw; the pain of this ordeal was too fresh in his mind.

  “Where’s your friend?” She asked.

  “His name was Nick,” Max said, “He didn’t make it.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment; there wasn’t much she could say. She hadn’t known Nick, hadn’t known what they’d been through. She barely knew Max anymore, but she knew that he was hurting. She had seen the hollow look in his eyes many years before.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  Max nodded in return and turned back to his console. Sharon’s reflection slipped away. Max’s gaze lingered momentarily on the spot where Sharon had been before he glanced over at Eleanor, sitting next to him in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Eleanor,” Max said, “I’m sorry, but we’re going to need to make another stop before I take you home.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  The only question that remained was where to go. The families that were getting settled on to the shuttles would need to go somewhere out of the Republic eye. Chances were that this scandal, once it became public knowledge, would trigger a momentary high degree of vigilance from the government. They couldn’t count on taking refuge in a backwater world. People’s eyes would be open.

  They had to go somewhere else. Max really only saw one option.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to get past this fleet,” Max said.

  “After reviewing the navigational code, sir,” Reggie said, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s complicated, but Doctor Sinclair has made some radical improvements to the jump drive. I don’t think we need the beacon to jump.”

  Max whistled.

  Sharon appeared again behind him and cleared her throat to get his attention.

  Max arched his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Everyone’s aboard and as secure as they’re going to get,” she said.

  “Very good,” Max said, “We leave in ten minutes, that’ll be the next window. Have everyone sit tight. We’ll take any stragglers that come along if they can get aboard in time. How many are there?”

  “86.”

  Max scratched the back of his head. Thousands of people were going to be left behind.

  “Best we could hope for, I suppose,” Max said.

  “What about Windy City or Fracture?” she asked.

  “I’ve sent an emergency broadcast to all the settlements. Told them to get out while they can,” Max replied, “I don’t think it’ll do much good.”

  Sharon nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said and then walked slowly away.

  ***

  The shuttle took off smoothly, save for a slight shimmy on the right side during liftoff. Max made a mental note to have Reggie check out the vector control nozzles on the starboard side thruster array. An indicator light on his console told Max that Reggie had a solid link with his flight computer; Max still preferred to confirm that himself.

  “How are you doing, Reggie?” Max asked.

  “Good, Captain,” Reggie responded, “We’ll be able to make the jump in approximately eight minutes.”

  The time matched the countdown clock on Max’s console. Max turned his attention to the trajectory display. Their flight path remained clear. If the calculations were correct, the Republic fleet would be on the other side of the planet at this point.

  The cockpit door opened and Eleanor took a tentative step in. Max glanced back and frowned.

  “You should be strapped in during liftoff and ascent,” Max said, fairly sternly.

  “There’s too many people back there,” Eleanor said, “Mind if I sit up here?”

  Max thought about sending her back; this was no place for a little girl. The cockpit could erupt into chaos at any moment. A failed thruster here, a reactor overload there, and the whole operation could turn into one giant flail in a heartbeat. Of course, with everything else that she’d been through these past few days, any of those problems would seem like nothing.

  “Hurry up and strap in,” Max said, “If you’re going to spend time on a spaceship, you have to remember the rules, young woman. You never wander around when the ship is in powered flight, it’s just not safe.”

  Eleanor smiled and hopped into the co-pilot’s seat, taking Max’s lecture in stride.

  “I’m not going to be a pilot,” she said, straining to look out the window, “I’m going to build robots, remember?”

  “Right,” Max said with a smile. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they thundered through Dust’s atmosphere and entered orbit. Her face lit up with wondrous awe as the space around them faded from blue to black. Dust’s primary star dawned on the western horizon, its brilliant light reflecting off the planet’s thin atmosphere.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  Max’s proximity display beeped; chunks of debris littered their orbital path. Then Max noticed something else; another ship, one of the fast attack interceptors, was in a trailing orbit. An alert for an incoming message flashed on his console. Eleanor stared at Max as he thought about what to do. He silenced the alert and ignored it. Four more minutes until the jump.

  The drives for the two small shuttles kept firing, pushing them beyond low Dust orbit and farther into space. The planet was receding into the background and soon would not be visible from the cockpit. Max couldn’t help but stare for a minute.

  Dust had been his home for ten years. He had been carrying the burden of his daughter’s death with him on every journey back and forth to this planet. With every garnished payday, he was reminded of his indentured servitude to the Doctor. He had essentially resigned himself to living out the rest of his life ferrying goods back and forth to Sinclair’s stronghold.

  Now, that was done. He was free, free to live whatever life he chose.

  The countdown clock was at thirty seconds. The Republic ship chasing them was still in pursuit, but was no real threat. The clock hit twenty seconds and Max looked over at Eleanor to make sure she was fastened in appropriately. At ten seconds, his eyes welled up as he realized he would never be back here again.

  The clock hit zero and the two ships jumped.

  Epilogue

  Max sat in the cockpit of the shuttle, listening to the eerie sound of silence around him. The ship was empty, save for Reggie who was off in the rear of the ship inspecting the power core containment system. Eleanor had finally been returned to her father that morning, leaving Max all alone.

  Her father was disappointed with Max’s insistence that he did not want a hero’s welcome. Max refused when he asked to have media coverage for the moment of landing. He just wanted to get Eleanor home, back with what family she had left.

  Eleanor’s face had lit up when she stepped on the bottom of the boarding ramp and saw her father standing there. It warmed Max’s heart to see her run up to him and wrap her arms around him enthusiastically. They had asked him to stay that night, to at least enjoy a meal with them in thanks. Max refused. He had to get going; people were counting on him.

  The little makeshift colony he and the other refugees from Dust had established on Maisha needed help to survive. They needed food, medicine, materials, clothes, and other staples of life. Max was back i
n business. He was once again shuttling between the stars, this time of his own choosing, which made all the difference in the world to him.

  Maisha, Max thought, had been Nick’s idea. It’s a beautiful world, Nick; you would have loved the place.

  Max shook her father’s hand and started to turn back toward the ship, when Eleanor rushed up and enveloped him in the same hug she gave her father. She wished him and all the others good luck. That little girl was the only person in the galaxy who knew where they took refuge. It was a big secret for her, but Max knew she would do right by them.

  He patted her on the back, gave her one last smile and wave, before disappearing up the ramp. Now all Max was left with were the ghosts of the memories in his head, the sound of Nick’s boots stomping up and down the corridor or the sounds of Eleanor playing with Reggie. A wave of sadness washed over him. He finally broke the silence by turning on an updated news report.

  A perky, blonde-haired reporter sat next to a projection of Dust. Max turned up the volume.

  “Scandal rocks the Republic as more details emerge on the recently uncovered human cloning farm on the colony of Dust,” she stated, “Over 500 cloned children have been positively identified. Turmoil gripped the Senate as they struggled to determine how to deal with this crisis.”

  The image shifted to that of a gray-haired, withered Senator who looked to have foregone any rejuvenation treatments, “These children are not children of God; they are children of men. As such they do not have the rights afforded to decent individuals of the Republic. Their continued existence is a mockery of all that is good in this universe.

  “We uncovered over a hundred violations of Republic law at this colony from multiple child births to unlawful modification of the native environment. Clearly, we need to police these fringe colonies better. We can no longer tolerate these cesspools of crime along the frontier.”

  The image shifted again to another Senator, a white-haired woman, who stood tall before a gathered throng of reporters, “These are living, breathing children. We can’t just slaughter them like animals. My colleagues continue to push the agenda of their corporate sponsors. Just because some don’t want these children to exist, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be allowed to live their lives.”

  “Senator,” an off screen reporter questioned, “Shouldn’t the parents be held responsible for bringing these children into the world illegally?”

  The Senator thought for a moment before responding, “Sometimes, unjust laws are created in response to unjust times. Sometimes, we need to reconsider those laws and decide if they’re for the greater good or not. I think this is one of those times.”

  The image shifted again to a tan-skinned middle-aged man with slicked-back dark hair. He stood at a dais in the Senate floor, addressing his colleagues.

  “These children have no soul. They have no right to live. They are the product of a madman who set out to kill innocent members of our society. For all we know, each one of these children is a programmed automaton, ready to unleash an attack on the Republic at a moment’s notice. They should all be destroyed.

  “The entire colony should be destroyed. The cities of Dust should be razed and human life should never again walk on its surface. It is our duty as representatives of this Republic to make sure that happens.

  “They may look like us, they make act like us, but they are not us. They are the grotesque results of man playing God.”

  The image shifted back to the reporter now with an image of the Marshall Conglomerate logo over her shoulder.

  “The President of the Marshall Conglomerate released a statement today on the leaked internal documents that allegedly implicate some high ranking officials in the company in the deaths of thousands of human test subjects. In his prepared statement, he stated that the company is cooperating fully with authorities in the investigation of the incident, but that he is sure the company will be cleared of any wrong-doing.”

  Max shut off the report; he could no longer listen to the rhetoric. He turned back to his console and started running through some maintenance routines.

  ###

  About the Author

  Jason Hutt has been happily married for the past 10 years, and is the father of three fast-growing little girls. He currently lives in Houston, Texas, where for the past 12 years, he has worked at NASA’s Johnson Space Center. Jason is currently the Chief of the Training Execution Branch in the Spaceflight Training Management Office. Originally from Philadelphia, he moved to Texas after obtaining a degree in Mechanical Engineering from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in Worcester, Massachusetts. He has been writing for most of his life and loves creating the strange new worlds of his imagination.

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