Privateer – Chapter Eight

November 21, 2157

The main corridor of the colony was more subdued than I remembered. The hustle and bustle associated with people conducting their everyday business was quiet and muted, as if something was making people whisper. As I rounded a corner and got on the sliding walkway that would take me to the industrial sector, I nearly ran into eight men in mottled grey coveralls. I stepped quickly aside with a murmured apology.

Their bearing was unquestionably military. Each of them bore a holstered sidearm as well as a carbine. Their booted feed hit the pavement in unison despite the low gravity. Each of them had a Grenault company logo embroidered on their chest and a six digit number printed on their back. The man on the front left had two chevrons sewn to his sleeve.

I shook my head and kept walking. It was obvious the little demonstration on Halloween night had resulted in extra security. I wondered what the extra effort was costing Grenault? Had they recruited locally, or were these guys professional soldiers? The discipline in their movements seemed to suggest the latter.

My leg was still a little sore, despite a week under the influence of quick heal. I don’t think I would have been able to put weight on it under a full gravity, but I was willing to chance it in order to get back to work as soon as possible. d’Enterre had encouraged me to take another week off, but truthfully, Tamra’s constant complaining was beginning to wear on me.

I entered the industrial sector and immediately noticed a difference in the pedestrian traffic. Here, everyone was furtive and defiant. Before the Halloween bombing, I could have walked down any corridor in the industrial sector and greeted. Now, I was looked upon with hatred and suspicion.

I entered the tug factory as quickly as I could and made my way through the production floor to my office. Sitting in a loose semi-circle in front of the door was my day crew. Their postures were angry.

I stopped and looked at them. “Good morning, guys,” I said.

Their gazes were stony. “Did you see the Greybacks?” This was Becky, the one that most acted like a shop foreman for me.

“Greybacks?” I asked. “Grenault police, armed, walking through the corridors?”

“That’s them,” she replied, crossing her arms.

“I did.” I said.

“Did you know that Grenault is charging all the cons a ten percent security tax to pay for them?”

I was shocked. They already barely made a subsistence wage. “I hadn’t heard that, Becky.” I sighed. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“I’ll bet they didn’t take ten percent of your check,” one of the guys from the back of the circle said.

I felt sheepish. I knew that they hadn’t. “No.” I replied honestly.

Becky was taken aback. “That’s the first honest answer I’ve heard since you were laid up,” she said. “I figured you’d walk in here with a song and dance about how we have to bear the burden of security equally, blah, blah, blah.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said with a smile. “But I don’t think it’s right for you to have to pay extra for something that probably isn’t your fault.”

“Probably.” Becky repeated, focusing on my very intentional use of the word. She was silent for a moment as she looked at the assembled workers behind her. “What did you see on Halloween night, Mr. Mendoza?”

“A big explosion?” I said, and laughed. “I saw three figures running away from me. It was too far to tell who they were.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Really.” She said. It wasn’t a question.

“Really,” I replied. “And no, I’m not protecting anyone. I honestly couldn’t see who it was.” I looked up at the clock. “Daylight’s burning, people. Let’s get back on the line.” I glanced into my office. “I have some catching up to do, I think.”

They began to disperse. As they did so, I touched Becky’s elbow. “Stay for a minute, please.”

We entered my office. I sat heavily in my chair and gestured for Becky to sit across from me. “How did we do while I was gone?”

She shrugged. “They sent this bean-counting sheep fucker from corporate down to watch over us. I think he was scared of us, so he just sat in your office all day.” She reached over and picked up a memory stick. “I did some weekly reports for you. We didn’t make quota the week after Halloween, but we did the two weeks after that.”

I nodded and took the memory stick from her. “I suppose it’s understandable we didn’t make quota after the bombing.” I tapped my lips with the memory stick. “I’m sure it looked bad though, since you guys staged a work slow down.” I frowned. I really had expected a little better.

“I don’t think you get me, Mr. Mendoza. We didn’t make the quota because every con on Europa was being questioned that entire week.” She laughed mirthlessly. “It wasn’t that we didn’t meet quota…is was that we couldn’t.”

I was speechless for a moment. “I see,” I said. “Well, excellent work at continuing the work output in my absence. That should go a long way toward alleviating suspicion from our group.”

She shook her head. “We didn’t do it to meet some quota.” She stood and walked toward the door. “We did it because we owe you. You take up for us, we make you look good. That’s the deal.”

“Fair enough,” I said. She started to open the door. “Becky, wait a second.”

She stopped. “Yes?”

“What else have they done to the ‘cons’?”

“Do you really want to know that, Mr. Mendoza?” Her eyes glittered. “You’re the kind of man who has to take action. As long as you don’t know what’s going on, you don’t have to do anything.”

“What else?” I asked. There was an edge to my voice.

She paused for a moment. I could tell that she was wrestling with herself to see if she wanted to say any more to me. “They’ve completely taken our alcohol ration,” she said carefully. “They’ve cut our water ration by five gallons per week, and they’ve blocked all communications with the Belt, Mars, the Moon, and Earth.”

“And this is in response to the bombing?” I asked.

“They say it’s an economic need. They say everyone here is feeling the pressure of bankrolling such an expensive project. It’s all a part of their cutbacks.”

I didn’t tell Becky that my family didn’t have a water ration. Europa was chiefly composed of ice, so water could be used as fast as it was purified. I also knew that Tamra still communicated regularly with her sister back on Earth. I even had an unopened bottle of tequila in my kitchen cabinet.

Harkness was right. These people were little better than slave labor. They were treated like children when it should have been obvious to anyone that the bombing was likely a conspiracy of a very few people. Grenault had committed itself to a dangerous course of action. I wonder if anyone other than myself and Harkness realized just how dangerous the situation had become?

“What did you think of the bombing, Becky?”

She looked at me steadily for a moment. “Off the record?”

I nodded. “Off the record.”

“I don’t agree with the means, but I do agree with the sentiment.” With that, she opened the door. “By the way, Mr. Mendoza, a few of us are getting together three nights a week to work out. You’d be welcome to stop by if you need to burn a few extra calories.”

I winked at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”