The Stars Came Back (2 page)

Kwon: There’s an independent in port headed out this afternoon going that way. Get away, do you good. If you’re a day or two late, they’ll hold the contract for you.

Helton: Dunno. Awful tight margin.

Kwon: (
Persuasive) You can bring back some spices that are expensive here from Nath Imp/Exp as personal baggage. Make you twenty percent, save me fifty. Pays your ticket.

Helton pauses for moment, indecisively, then stands up, pats his pockets, realizes he doesn’t have his wallet.

Helton: Ah, crap. It must have dropped out in the sim!

Kwon: (
Dismissively) That’s OK, cash is a pain if they think you’re using it too often. Pay when you’re back.

Helton gives a quick wave and heads for the door in a hurry.

Kwon: (Smiling) Happy transit. Vaya con Dios!

FADE TO BLACK

Security

F
ADE IN

INT
- DAY - Spaceport near check-in area

Port is starkly lit and utilitarian, clean but run
down, not a lot of people, mostly queued up and looking resigned to fate. Focus and pan on Helton as he walks hurriedly along. He is dressed in a brown travelers coat (heavy duster with a longer cape, wide cuffs, layers, and lots of pockets), waistcoat, khaki cargo pants, hiking boots, and carries a half-full large duffel bag. Helton looks a bit rough-and-ready and tossed together. As he scans the reader boards and heads for a counter he passes a pair of security guards in light body armor carrying carbines (uniforms look like typical police-state blues). They eye him suspiciously, then exchange glances. Helton is focused on getting to the counter, oblivious to them. He reaches the counter behind one elderly man (Art, dressed very neatly and looking dapper) talking to the middle aged, bored looking, grossly overweight female check-in agent behind the counter. She wears a sharply creased but ill-fitting light blue uniform with Sam Browne belt, high collar, and various award ribbons next her badge.

Art: Yes, that’s right. Business trip again.

Checker: Job?

Art: Fine arts dealer. I’m taking several pieces of commission work for a final inspection and delivery.

Checker: Duration?

Art: Three days there. I need to return as soon as possible to continue
my work.

Checker: Business? Any family?

Art: Oh, yes, my wife is here. I mean to say “yes, the trip is only business.” No family there.

Checker presses a few buttons and waves him past to head for the boarding area.
She looks up at Helton and her eyes narrow. She points to the ID scanner on the counter in front of her. He places his face in front of the camera where it is briefly flashed with a crosshatch of faint laser lines. He sets his hand on the palm pad.

Helton: Helton Strom. Teacher.

Checker eyes her screen, then Helton, then screen, frowns, then Helton, and then over his shoulder and back again.

Checker: (
Eyes narrow, suspiciously) Reason for travel?

Helton: Vacation.

Checker’s eyes narrow more. She taps on her screen a time or two and eyes him, then taps several more times, while looking back and forth between him and the screen.

Checker: Job?

Helton: Teacher at the high school.

Checker taps on the screen a few more times. Helton starts to look concerned.

Helton: Is there a problem?

Checker: (
Rudely) I’LL ask the questions, if you please.

Helton is taken a bit aback
. He steps back slightly and straightens up a bit, bumping into someone behind him. He starts to turn to say “sorry” but realizes it’s a pair of security guards standing right there, rifles at port arms. Helton realizes something is badly amiss and bites off his planned retort. He goes on in a more tightly controlled voice.

Helton: I would be happy to answer any questions you have.

Checker: Who bought your ticket?

Helton: I did just-

Checker: It was bought with CASH, can you
prove it was you
?!

Helton: I don’t know, I-

Checker: Stop lying!

Helton: I don’t think-

Checker: Lying to a government agent is a
crime
, Mr. Strom, so DON’T think, just ANSWER!

Helton: But I did tell-

Checker holds up her hand to silence him as she looks at the screen.

Checker: Well, well, well. And just
why
is it that you were sent a list of spices in commercial quantities, when you are not a registered and licensed wholesaler? A violation of the Terrorism-Supporting Black Market Reduction Act, perhaps?

Helton: How did-

Checker: You lied to me. Summary fine against assets per false statement.

Helton: (
Shocked) WHAT?!

Checker: You WERE a teacher, but are now listed as
unemployed
. You lied. You said you were going on vacation, but you have a job offer from your sister.
You lied
. Someone bought your ticket with cash to avoid tracking,
you lied.
You are obviously attempting to dodge taxes and business licensing. You bought a one way ticket as an emigrant would-

Helton: Because I didn’t know when I was coming back! I just now decided to go to-

Checker: But you still tried to dodge the emigration tax!

Helton: But how could I be emigrating if I’m planning to smuggle spices back here!?

Checker: Well, now, that WAS pretty stupid of you, wasn’t it? Didn’t think things through. Tell it to the judge! WE don’t make mistakes that stupid.

Helton looks shocked as he realize
s the turn this is taking.

There is a faint, deep CRUMP in the distant background, barely noticed at that moment, as the smug checker and Helton stare at each other for a moment.

Checker: (To guards) Escort Mr. Strom to Interview Room C for further questions.

The guards step up even closer behind him and one of them indicates with his arm which way he should start walking. Checker smirks. Background bystanders studiously look at the ground, away, or at things in their hands, not making eye contact as he turns and starts to walk away.

C
UT TO

INT - DAY
- Small interrogation room

Helton sits, coat over the back of his chair, at a small table across from a weasel-like uniformed guard.

C
UT TO

Same room. Helton sits across from a different uniform,
who wears more gold braid and a bigger hat.

CUT TO

Helton sits across from a sour
faced woman with a pinched smile in judges robes, and she bangs her gavel on the small table between them, while off to the side the higher ranking uniform looks on, smirking.

DISSOLVE TO

INT - NIGHT -
Sparse and spare starship lounge

Lounge
is dimly lit in reddish light with a few round ports and several screens on the walls.

Helton is sitting
, half facing Art, with a dazed expression on his face and a drink in his hand, looking absently out the viewing port. His coat is tossed over the back of a chair, his bag supporting his feet as he slouches down.

Helton: By the time it was over, virtually all my assets were forfeited on the spot, I’d been stripped of citizenship, and searched by the Blue Gloves
way more personally than I’d like… How…? (Shakes his head in disbelief) How did we get here…?

Art: (
Quietly) It could be worse.

Helton stares at Art, incredulous
.

Art: You are
here
, yes?

Helton: Well, yeah, but-

Art: Not in jail. Not in uniform.

Helton: They wouldn’t-

Art: Still breathing.

Helton stares at Art, comprehension dawning on
his face at how bad it could have been. He takes a drink.

Helton: But I don’t understand… Why?
...

Art: They get a percentage of any fines or forfeitures they asses
s, as an “incentive” to be attentive to the letter of the law. You likely got put on a list some time ago, and this was just the easiest opportunity to make you go away. If they hadn’t gotten busy with that bomb on Level 8, you might still be there.

Helton: (
Confused) Wha…? Bomb?

Art: The disturbance that called them away?

Helton: But that was some sort of transformer explosion in an electrical vault…

Art looks as him with a slight shake of his head
and a knowing, apologetic smile on his face.

Art:
Always
buy a round trip ticket.
Always
have the appearance that you have good reason to come back, and no plans to do otherwise.

Helton: You
…?

Art: You are just now realizing what’s been going on these last months and years?

Helton nods slightly, slowly.

Helton: (
Feebly, not even accepting his own excuse) …Been busy.

Art: People have had to flee on a moment, packing light, for thousands of years. The warning signs of collapse are always the same. The debt. The scapegoats. The lies. The “temporary emergency measures.” I was cutting it closer than I should have. (
Shrugs) My family is all safely away, and everything else shipped ahead for us by others.

Helton stares at him in near disbelief.

Art: It looks like you won’t be returning, either. (He smiles a small, sympathetic smile)

Helton: (
Quietly, in shock, to himself) Homeless.

Helton stares off blankly, dazed.

Art: You are lucky, though…

Helton: (
Discouraged/sarcastic) If this is lucky, I’d hate to see
unlucky
.

Art: (
Looking intensely at Helton) They picked you clean, but they let you leave. And, think… What
do
you have? Where are you going?

Helton: (
Looks blankly for a moment, then shrugs and waves to his coat and bag) My sister’s.

Art: And…?

Helton shrugs, still not sure what he’s being asked. Art taps his temple, then his chest. Then waves to the room around them. The glass in Helton’s hand.

Helton: (Slowly, forcing himself to think positively. He taps his temple) I have… useful skills… and knowledge. (He touches his chest) I’m heading for family… who will welcome me… work… I’m not sucking vacuum or (holds up his glass) dying of thirst in a desert… Better off than Odysseus meeting Nausicaa.

Art: (Big smile as he sees Helton now has a better assessment of his situation) A man of education.

Helton: Not enough. Didn’t see
this
coming.

Art: It will serve you well. Never forget your
assets
, just because you acquired some new liabilities. Have faith in yourself, and you’ll be OK… God works in mysterious ways.

Helton looks at Art silently for a long moment, trying to understand it all. He drains his glass, not looking very convinced.

FADE TO BLACK

New Acquaintances

FADE IN

I
NT - DAY - Space liner hallway

Helton walks down the passageway. He’s dressed in his normal shipboard attire: collared shirt, earth
tone vest with several pockets, dark pants, five finger-style shoes. There are several others headed in the same direction, each with a different style of clothing (mostly of simple cut but stylish, in much brighter colors). The hallway has a sense of faded high-tech elegance. As they walk, the ship’s announcement system drones in the background.

Announcer: (
Calm and pleasant female voice) Passengers on B Schedule proceed to your assigned dining rooms on Level E, Corridor F, for the traditional first night formal meet and greet. Your seating assignments will be at your tables if not noted on your ticket. Please arrive promptly at 1830…

Helton and the rest of the passengers turn and stream through a doorway into a large, low room
with some two dozen oval tables that can seat ten people each. It has the same sense of faded elegance: nice chandelier but with a few lights burned out, slightly worn seat upholstery, indirect lighting that is inconsistently bright, colors that don’t quite all coordinate perfectly, as if they could not be bothered to find identical replacements. Each table has a busy artistic centerpiece and a small sandwich-board style screen with a list of names on it. Many of the tables are full or nearly so. Helton wanders by and glances at one with several openings, then goes on to the next table with spaces, where he sees his name on it. There are already eight people there: Doctor Local & wife, Senator Snol & wife, Penger Trask & wife Lucretia Trask, the Liner Engineer (an older man in disheveled ship uniform), and Bipasha( beautiful East Indian woman, mid 20s, well dressed). He takes a seat between Bipasha and Lucretia. Everyone except the Liner Engineer greets him.