Exiled to the Stars (14 page)

But Captain Angelo was as intrigued as the others by the Bingo games, and he asked Vlad to ask Raymond to set a price for the tablet software for the games. In beer bulbs, of course. The Captain indicated that he would relay the information at the next meeting.

Meanwhile, he started the "Dorm Swap" program as a daily update to the tablets. A typical day's report might read, "Dorm 1, three openings – Chinese speakers. Dorm 2, no openings, Dorm 3, 2 openings – English speakers, Dorm 4, no openings, Dorm 5, four openings – teachers preferred, Dorm 6, two openings, and so on through to Dorm 25, no openings.

For a time, Dorm 17 was nearly half empty, as the residents fled the terror they had survived. Over time, though, enough Drones figured out that there were
two
ways to get an education: import teachers, or export students! And the dorm refilled, though with a radically different ethnic mix.

Dorm 21 actually
did
invade Dorm 22. The invasion was repelled with two deaths among the defenders, both due to blaster bolts, and with over a dozen to the attackers. Sarah Welsey was arrested by redsuits, and never seen again. Dorm 21 refused to elect a Council Delegate, and appeared to exist in a state of anarchy for a time. Finally, after two months, the two dorms announced a merger, electing Adams Mayor and Council Delegate.

In Dorm 11, Messer Lu steadfastly refused to hold an election, claiming it was his prerogative to select the Council Delegate. Rumors began to fly about dissatisfaction among the younger residents, and increasingly autocratic decisions being rendered by the man now calling himself "The Elder"

After some two months of increasingly repressive measures including restrictions on the use of the training computer, Messer Lu apparently fell ill while eating, and died before he could be taken to the med bay. There were whispers about how convenient Messer Lu's death had been, but no accusations were made.

The next day, an election was held and a Council Delegate elected. The next week Messer Sun, a small man in his mid-thirties with a seemingly permanent smile took his seat at the table. Messer Sun also visited Cesar, with whom he spent several hours in deep conversation.

Soon Messer Sun was a dynamic force on the Council, usually joining with Cesar in backing aggressive development and educational policies. Dorm 11's residents also became fanatic Bingo players, with games seemingly always in progress.

******

17 August 2204

As the first anniversary of their departure came and went, excitement gripped the ship. The first of their possible targets was only a few months away, and long-range sensors were beginning to produce information.

It wasn't hopeful. Based on data collected by the Earth telescopes and currently collected data, the fourth planet of the Class G yellow star apparently had a highly eccentric orbit. The computer estimated an apogee that seemed uncomfortably close to the sun, and a perigee near the outer edge of the liquid-water zone. In addition, the size and composition of the planet led the computer to estimate a gravity of 1.12 G. The Captain guessed that the planet would be only marginally habitable, though of course he would defer a final judgment until they were much closer.

As the colonists' excitement grew, time began to drag. The Captain was conscientious about releasing sensor data as it was received, but it was little enough.

Finally, though, decision time arrived. They would have to either change course to approach the planetary system, or continue on their way.

The Captain scheduled time on the computer grid to announce his decision. "This is your Captain speaking," he began simply. "I have reached a decision regarding Planet 1. Analyses of the sensor and computer data indicate that this planet is at best only marginally habitable. This means we could probably survive a planetary orbit at the equator, though it would be difficult. However, I find it almost totally unsuitable for long-term habitation. The temperature variations and high gravity are compounded by the presence of some atmospheric gases that could inhibit both plant and animal growth. This planet is not suitable for colonization, and no amount of effort on our part will make it so.

His expression was grim. "This is bad news for all of us, but all we can do is hope that Planet 2 is more suitable for our colony. We will be approaching that system in about nine months. Let us pray it is the planet that can become our home." He signed off without further comment.

And so they drove on, The lack of exterior viewscreens making life an endless round of sameness.

Ron was now an expert shot with a laser and blaster, and was studying needler. He didn't
have
a needler, but he assumed there were some aboard, and skill with it might be handy. Needlers, though, were of little value at anything much more than arm's length. He wished he could study up on sonic cellular disruptors, or simply 'disruptors.' Those cumbersome, shoulder-fired weapons caused cells to flash instantly into steam, creating fatal wounds in microseconds.

Disruptors were weapons of war, pure and simple. They were useless for hunting, since they did so much tissue damage there would be little meat left. But as war weapons, they had few portable equals. It was comforting to assume that the armory contained a few for colony defense, though he couldn't be sure, and the Captain wouldn't say. If the computer contained VR lessons in disruptor use, Ron was unable to access them.

One of the main reasons he was so assiduously studying weapons was because it kept him in contact with Tara. He was forced to come up with ever-more-implausible excuses to visit her, to talk to her. Whatever his reasons, Ron was rapidly becoming a weapons expert, aided by his efforts as teacher to others studying weapons in the computer.

Tara was slowly regaining the self-respect that had been stripped from her. Her knife had begun the process, convincing her that she no longer had to be a victim. Ron's attentions had begun to convince her that perhaps a 'straight' man
could
be interested in her as a person. And Cesar's enthusiasm for her knowledge of farm life was beginning to reassure her that she didn't
have
to forever carry the hated label of "whore." Life was once again becoming interesting and worthwhile, as the horror she had lived in Nawlins receded into memory.

They were sitting in the mess room having another of their interminable chats, when Tara suddenly became grave.

"Ron, I have to say this, but I'm only going to say it once. I owe you my life. If you hadn't saved me from Dorm 17, I would probably have been one of the suicides. Thank you."

Ron, deeply embarrassed, reddened and shook his head. "Tara, you owe me nothing. You were always a lovely, vibrant woman; they just wouldn't let you know it. Bringing you down here was the smartest thing I ever did. You have blossomed from a hardened street girl to a wonderful woman, one who is certain to become very important to our colony. You're
already
important to New Home Village."

She flashed him a blinding smile and repeated "Thank you" before leaning over and kissing him on the lips. No quick peck, this time. This was a full-on man-woman kiss. Then with a flustered "Oh dear!" she jumped to her feet and fled the mess room, leaving an openmouthed Ron behind. He jumped to his feet, but by then she was gone. He dropped back into his seat, his mind soaring with renewed hope.

The existence of the Council was having an effect. Educated "Undies," from fear, worry, or simple boredom, were moving to "Drone" dorms to become teachers and respected members of the dorm communities. What had been twenty-five separate small enclaves were becoming groups of neighbors, interacting, trading, and sharing Bingo and card games. More and more pairs of dorms were merging, and it was evident that if the voyage continued long enough, twenty-five would eventually be reduced to thirteen.

Dorm 25 was the odd solitary dorm, a "Drone" dorm from Egypt. For some reason, perhaps because they had no "twin" sharing their mess room, they refused to participate in the growing community. Oh, they had a seat on the Council, and their Delegate attended every meeting. But he rarely spoke. Mostly he simply sat, glowering at the others. Visitors were discouraged, they never advertised bunk openings, and they refused to enter into the growing trading community. The Captain confided that the residents of Dorm 25 were a special case. All were members of some sort of doomsday cult, actually bent on destroying mankind. They, with their leader, had been rounded up and consigned to Dorm 25 specifically because it
didn't
have a partner dorm; EarthGov was concerned that the group might be a threat to any other dorm with whom they were partnered.

The leader, a Sheik Al Faweh, was a tall, thin, swarthy man with a beaked nose. By the second meeting, he had been unanimously elected dorm delegate, and by the third his issue shipsuit had been replaced by a robe and turban produced by the dorm's women from sheets, and he peremptorily demanded the Captain refer to him as "Prophet." The Captain ignored the demand, of course, though he did use the title "Sheik."

Overall, though, as the voyage dragged on, the threat of invasion by other dorms declined, along with the population of violent offenders. The Council began considering a proposal to convert the various dorm militias into a colony security force, to defend the colony from natural hazards, inimical wildlife, and even hostile natives. Several of the Council members derided their compatriots as old women and the threats as science fiction, but others were seriously concerned about terrorists and revolutionaries who would only reveal themselves after grounding.

Still, a majority of the members agreed that an organized security force was a good idea, and that was when the
real
fighting began.

The age-old question arose immediately. The ancient Romans had asked it:
Quid Custodiet ipsos Custodes?
Who will guard the guardians? And they never found a satisfactory answer; Caesars had been created and murdered by the Praetorian Guard.

The question had been asked thousands of times since. If we amass sufficient armed might to protect us, How can we be certain that those weapons will never be used to
subjugate
us? And always, there was no satisfactory answer. Once they grounded, the provision being discussed would even fold the ship's red-clad security detachment into the colony security force.

And the Captain had already agreed that if the provision were adopted, once grounded he would release the colony's armory to the security force.

In the end, the proposal created so much dissension that it was tabled until a later date.

And the ship soared on through hyperspace.

******

6 February 2105

John Gallegos took a deep breath before knocking on the Captain's door. He wasn't certain the Captain would approve of some of the things he had done on his own intiative. But this was
important
, and John Gallegos was the ship's Security Officer. It was his duty to tell the Captain what he'd learned.

"Captain," He began, "I think we may have a serious problem."

Captain Angelo smiled and waved him to a seat. "I knew things were going too smoothly," he said.

"Yes sir," John replied. He took another deep breath. "We caught some colonists in a restricted area again," he began. "Three of them, from 25."

Captain Angelo frowned. "From 25 again? It seems a lot of our trespassers are coming from 25."

John nodded. "Yes, sir. I checked the records, and this is the eighth group of three we've caught." He frowned. "I'm beginning to wonder how many we
haven't
caught.

"The thing is," he continued, "I decided to try to throw a scare into this bunch. We took them down to the office and did a regular interrogation. It would have scared the tar out of
me
!" he paused. "But it didn't do much for them. It wasn't until I told them we were going to dump the contents of their tablets that they all came apart. Lots of shouting and jumping around; we had to restrain two of them.

"Well that made me
really
curious, so I had the computer copy all the files on all their tablets before we returned them." He shrugged. "We gave them the usual lecture and threats and turned them loose. But the computer broke the encryption on the tablets, and amid other things, it came up with
this
." He threw several printouts onto the Captain's desk.

The Captain frowned again. "What is it? I don't see…"

"You're holding it wrong, sir," John said gently, and rotated the crude line drawings. The Captain's frown faded, replaced with an incredulous look. "But this is a crude drawing of the ship!" he exclaimed.

John nodded. "Yes sir. And I can guarantee that this bunch didn't do it alone. It appears that Dorm 25 has been sending out scouting parties and is assembling maps to guide…well, who knows what?" He shrugged.

The Captain looked up from the drawing, his face furious. "Any idea what they're after?"

John shrugged again. "Well, I've studied their map, sir, and checked the records. We've caught most of the trespassers in or near the Engineering spaces. I can't guess what they're after down there, but that seems to be their target."

Captain Angelo swarmed to his feet, throwing the printouts onto his desk. "All right, damn it. Send some guys down to bring in that phony 'prophet' of theirs. We'll find out what's going on!"

******

Another damned escort mission! When Kurt Steiner had been accepted for Security training, he'd had all these visions of exciting, do-or-die armed missions. But all they'd been doing for more than a year was escort scared colonists around. At least it was every week, now. It wasn't
quite
so boring.

Kurt followed Sergeant Villa toward Dorm 25. He sighed. The weirdoes again. They gave him the creeps, with their manners and attitudes. They acted like they had this big secret; the key to the universe. But they crept around like comic-vid villains, hunched over, heads lowered, constantly looking around them suspiciously. Kurt smiled to himself. All they needed was long black coats with big, pulled-up collars and old-style brimmed hats pulled down over their eyes. And there were no smiles here; no friendliness, only dour, suspicious glares. Kurt was glad they were just going to pick up that geek with the robes, and get out again.