Exiled to the Stars Page 5

  Ron frowned. So it was starting already. The gang punks were showing off for each other. None of them had any need or use for Tom's things. They were beginning the "dominance dance." He'd hoped to avoid those problems. He would have to hurry.

  He turned to Tom, "All right, Tom. I'll get you out. But we'll be moving to a dorm full of illiterate Asian proles. Will you be able to handle that?"

  The burly man nodded enthusiastically before stopping with a groan. "You're damned right I can handle it. I should have gone with you and the whore."

  Ron stiffened. "You mean 'Tara'."

  Tom's head sagged. "You're right. I'm sorry. I do know better; I'm just upset."

  Ron relaxed and nodded. "Okay. Now, I need to find two other 'straights' who'd like to swap. But they need to be educated and skilled, and willing to teach others what they know."

  Tom frowned in thought. "Well, there was this guy I met at lunch. Older guy. Sure looks like a teacher. Name of Robert Franks. He had somethin' to do with computers. Didn't talk much."

  As he and Tom drifted down the central corridor, Ron could feel the eyes upon him. He could only hope that the story of his fight would deter the toughs and show-offs long enough for him to get out of here. If he managed to get clear without trouble, he swore he would never return.

  They found Robert Franks huddled between the top bunk and what would become the ceiling in the corner of the dorm. It took gentle coaxing by Tom to bring him out.

  Framks was a man in late middle age, thin, pale, and bookish. He cringed at any quick movement, and his terrified eyes were constantly swiveling. "Please! Help me! They're savages!"

  Ron spent a few minutes calming the older man. Finally, he was able to get coherent speech from the man, but it took several minutes to learn that Robert Franks had a Master's Degree in computer science, and was skilled with both hardware and software. Asked if he'd be willing to live among illiterate Asians gathered from a ghetto, he begged for the chance.

  They needed one more, but Ron's search plans were interrupted when they encountered the teenage gang thugs that had beaten and robbed Tom.

  They were merely drifting down the central corridor, with both Tom and Robert huddling against him, when the four of them swung out of a bunk group to surround them.

  The teens were laughing at Tom's wounds and Robert's cringing subservience when one of the thugs recognized Ron. He nudged the one beside him. "Hey, I know him! He's the one busted up Jack Tundell."

  The leader turned to Ron. "Is that right? You the guy busted Tundell's face?"

  Ron straightened. "Yeah. I could demonstrate if you kids keep this crap up." He desperately hoped his bluff worked. If not, he was in for a massive beating, and maybe even death. But his eyes never wavered as they met and held the leader's.

  He suppressed a sigh of relief as the leader's head dropped. "Ah, we din't mean nothin'."

  Seeing an opportunity, Ron asked if they still had Tom's meager supplies. When the leader replied that they did, Ron offered to buy the stuff from them for EarthGov credits. He started at four, and let them talk him up to eight, or two each. Tom hugged the box to his chest as they moved along to cheery goodbyes from the gang. Ron breathed the huge sigh of relief he'd been suppressing.

  They were nearing the dorm hatch when Ron heard a woman's scream. Whirling in mid-air, he was just in time to be struck by a body and sent spinning down the corridor. Instinct made him grab onto what he realized was soft, yielding flesh.

  He grabbed a passing bunk mount and pulled them to a halt.

  The woman was tall, blond and rather thin and small-breasted. That last was easy to tell, because her shipsuit had a huge rip down the front, exposing the body beneath. A pair of glasses were askew on what a quick glance told him seemed to be a rather attractive face.

  A gravelly roar came down the corridor. "Come back here, you skinny bitch!"

  Ron looked up and saw a man swarming clumsily down the aisle in pursuit of the woman. He wasn't particularly large, but was well-muscled. He was also drunk and stark naked.

  When the man saw the woman in Ron's arms, he roared. "Bastard! Tryna steal my woman, huh?" He kicked off from a pipe stanchion, and came sailing at Ron like a missile.

  Ron had little time to react. He dodged the man's charge, and grabbed his arm as he flew past, pulling to add momentum and alter the man's course to steer him head-on into the wall.

  He grabbed the woman's arm, and shouting, "Let's get out of here!" to the others, he propelled himself toward the dorm hatch. Whether from surprise or respect, no one interfered as the four made their way out.

  Ron didn't stop until they had passed several other dorms, and had reached the hatch to the next deck down. Now, of course the hatch was vertical and the lower deck actually alongside their current one. Ron guided the others through the hatch before pausing. They were all gasping.

  Ron took the opportunity to examine his latest "catch." He was afraid Raymond and Cesar would be disappointed, but he really didn't see where he'd had a choice – or even a chance to choose.

  The woman was, as he'd first thought, a tall, thin blonde. Now that they had stopped, she was busy trying to straighten her glasses. Before being nearly torn from her body, her shipsuit had been zipped primly to her neck. Now, she was squeezing her upper arms to her sides, trying to cover as much of her body as possible while her hands were busy with her glasses.

  After a moment, she finished bending the frames into shape, and clutched the torn shipsuit closed as she examined her new companions. She didn't seem especially impressed.

  "Hello," Ron said as the silence began to drag. "My name is Ron Creding. This is Tom Abbott, and this is Robert Franks. And you are…?"

  "Susan James," she said. She hesitated, and tears began streaming from her eyes. "Doctor Susan James – or I was!" She broke down completely, and the men stood helpless, exchanging uncomfortable looks.

  "So, what happened?" Ron asked finally.

  "I don't know!" she wailed. "I was having a drink with a colleague in the University Club, and then suddenly I woke up in a Classification Center! And nobody would listen to me!"

  Ron was beginning to understand. "Tell me, Doctor James, has there been a recent scandal of any kind at the university?"

  The tears stopped as she answered, "Why, yes, as a matter of fact. I had to report my Department Head for putting his name on some of my research. How did you know?"

  Ron shook his head. "Universities are vital to the future of the EarthGov. I'm sure EarthGov would be happy to rid a Department Head of a troublesome faculty member."

  The tears were gone now, replaced by an incredulous stare. "Y…You mean that Doctor Stevens did this to me?" She was obviously shocked.

  Ron shrugged. "I'd almost bet on it."

  The shock began to fade, to be replaced by fear and desperation. "But…but what do I do now?" The enormity of her plight was beginning to dawn on her. This wasn't all some horrible mistake. It had been planned and implemented with the purpose of removing her from Earth – from her entire life!

  The tears were threatening to return, so Ron hurriedly replied, "There's nothing you can do." He hardened his voice. "Your old life is gone, Dr. James. Gone forever. Your apartment, your office, your cat, all gone. And they will never return. You should have faced this weeks ago, in the Classification Center. But you didn't understand, and thought you'd be rescued." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

  "But…but surely the Captain…" her voice trailed off as she saw Ron shake his head.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. James. The Captain has no authority here. He's a colonist, just like you are. After we boost out tomorrow, his authority will be absolute. But that will be too late."

  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I don't believe you. There must be someone…" Her voice trailed off again as she saw all three of the men's heads shake.

  For a moment, it seemed she would break down again, but she suddenly straightened and gained control of herself. "All right," she said
in a normal tone. "The actions of that man back there certainly bear out your statements. So, what do I do now?"

  Ron nodded approval. The woman had had a nasty shock. After weeks of denial, of certainty that it was all a mistake, that she would be rescued, she had been forced to face the loss of the only life she'd ever known. A life of privilege. And now…

  Ron shrugged. "Your choices are very limited, Dr. James. You can return to your assigned bunk in the dorm we just left…" He almost smiled at her shudder of horror.

  "Your only other option is to find someone in another dorm that will trade bunks with you. Now, it happens I was in that dorm looking for people to swap bunks, and you are the type of educated, intelligent person I was seeking. But our dorm is a Drone dorm. Nearly all the residents are poor, illiterate Asians from the ghettos of the Philippines. You are welcome to join us, to spend the next years trying to create a community that can survive on a new planet."

  He shrugged. "Of course, you are also free to visit other dorms, to see if you can find a more suitable position, but every dorm on this ship is assigned to either 'undesirables,' like us and those animals back there, or 'drones,' uneducated ghetto dwellers. There are no other choices."

  She had regained her poise, and a hint of a smile even played around her lips. "So," she said, "you're a recruiter. You're trying to find educated westerners to teach those people." Upon closer inspection, Ron decided that Dr. James was older than she first appeared. Late thirties to mid-forties, he guessed. Still, she was a very attractive woman, in a fashion-model sort of way.

  He grinned. "You could say that. But this is my only recruiting trip. We have only three available bunks, and I will not be going back to the dorm we just left. To tell you the truth, I hadn't expected the thugs to break loose until after we boosted. I'm going to have to hurry back to my new dorm to warn them, and help prepare. So, would you care to join us, or would you rather go off on your own?"

  She shook her head. "Well, I certainly won't go back to that…that zoo back there. And wandering around like Diogenes looking for someone to swap with doesn't appeal to me, either. I've taught a lot of undergraduate college courses, I'm sure I can handle teaching basic adult education. So, Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be him who first cries 'Hold! Enough!'"

  Ron laughed aloud. "Don't tell me your doctorate is in Shakespearian studies!"

  She shook her head. "No, but it might be better if it was. I doubt that a PhD in molecular biology is going to be very useful to exiles and pioneers."

  He grinned and snapped his fingers. "Pioneers! That's it! That's the term I was looking for. We will turn these ghetto-dwellers into pioneers of a new planet!"

  Chapter 3

  17 August 2103 AD

  Ron and the others returned to the dorm just in time for the mass meeting Cesar Montero had called for the messroom. The messroom was designed to seat two hundred people, a dorm's entire population.

  Cesar took charge of the meeting, briefing the residents on recent occurrences. Wide grins and a happy babble greeted the news of Rafael's, Paco's, and their gang's departures. He introduced Ron, Vlad, and the rest of the westerners, calling them "teachers," and Vlad and Susan James, "eminent scientists."

  There was much less enthusiasm for Raymond Koh and their plan to hire him as "sheriff", but the motion to hire him and "tax" everyone one beer per month as his "salary" passed easily after an eloquent and impassioned speech by Cesar.

  The final act of the meeting was to elect a "Kapitan," or mayor, and a "konsehal" or "council" to lead them. Cesar's nomination for Kapitan was quickly confirmed by acclamation. That boy Ron had met was not the only one who called Cesar Montero "The wise man."

  Ron was surprised when immediately following Cesar's election as Kapitan, Raymond Koh moved that Cesar Montero be allowed to choose his own konsehal for the time being; formal elections could be held once things settled down. The motion passed easily.

  "Of course it was staged," Cesar told Ron later with a guilty grin. "But they would not have elected any of you westerners, and I will need your help very badly, especially at first."

  They boosted out early the next morning. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the boost built and they drifted slowly toward one "wall." But panic flared again when the Captain put spin on the ship, and everyone slid down the "wall" to the "floor." There was confusion as items left drifting in mid-air drifted first to the wall, and then fell to the floor. There was also a resurgence of motion sickness. This time, though, the vomit spilled to the floor along with the drifting liquids, limiting the threat to bystanders. But very soon, the colonists acclimated to the new orientation and reveled in the return of "weight."

  It took only a day for the colonists to learn that space travel was boring! There was no work for the men. The women had no cooking to do, and little cleaning. Laundry was sent to a central location, where it was done by mechs. Cesar tasked Ron with investigating the educational capabilities of the ship's computer and verification that the claims for it had not been exaggerated.

  Ron found that the claims had, if anything, been minimized. As soon as the ship was under boost, a sealed hatch near one end of the dorm had clicked open.

  In the compartment it had concealed, Ron found fifty booths containing virtual-reality helmets and old-style touch screen terminals of the type formerly used in elementary schools. These would permit testing requiring student input and other hands-on tasks. Apparently, it was hoped that their simpler design would permit them to keep functioning in the unlikely event of failure of the complex VR system. A single desk occupied a slightly raised dais. It contained a similar, though larger terminal, and apparently, controls that would permit the 'teacher' to monitor or work with any individual student.

  Ron slipped on the 'teacher' VR helmet, and after a few seconds, he was greeted by an attractive young woman. Her clothing was conservative, and her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. No one would ever confuse this image with that of a pleasure program!

  She smiled. "Good day, sir. May I please have your name and ID number? If you prefer, you may simply place your thumb on the pad on the instructors' desk."

  Ron shrugged. "Ronald Creding, 2648"

  "Thank you, sir," she replied. "And will you be serving as an instructor? I see you are well-qualified."

  "I expect to be the chief instructor for this dorm, but not the only one."

  "Excellent, Mr. Creding. Would you like to change this avatar, or perhaps give it a name? There are 4,128 possible avatars. If you would like, you may browse them to select a personal choice."

  Ron shook his head. "The current avatar is acceptable, for the moment. Will the other teachers have the same privileges?"

  She nodded. "Of course, sir. Since you have identified yourself as the chief instructor, it will be necessary for you to authorize others to use the instructors' helmet and terminal. However, once authorized, they will be able to change their avatar and name it at will."

  Ron nodded. "Can you give me an overview of your capabilities?"

  She nodded, the smile widening. "Of course, sir. I have a very complete 'tour' function, but it takes some fourteen hours to display. It is very complete, however."

  Ron grinned. "No, thank you. Can you give me a quick summary?"

  "Yes, sir," she replied. "I contain complete curricula, lesson plans, and VR classes ranging from the basic preschool through PhD level in one thousand, two hundred and forty-seven disciplines. EarthGov gathered these materials from the most prestigious institutions in United Earth."

  "It sounds as though you don't really need teachers." Ron said

  "On the contrary, sir," she replied. "Teachers perform critical functions. Humans display wide variations in learning ability. Often a human can detect these variations far more quickly than a computer, and act appropriately. Humans also respond with more success to a human tutor to overcome deficiencies. And of course, human teachers provide motivational services I cannot equal."

  "To co
ntinue, sir," she went on, "I also contain over fifty thousand skill training and instruction vids for non-academic skills that are expected to be useful to a developing colony,"

  "I don't understand," Ron asked. "What is the value of those, if we can only study them while in flight?"

  "There should be no such limitation, sir. My design criteria call for a service life of at least one hundred fifty years. It is expected that I will be of inestimable value to a developing colony. Normal planning is for the colony to center around and develop outward from the landed ship.

  "Most of the skills training information is devoted to developing the tools to develop the tools, as humans are fond of saying. Over half of my capacity is devoted to educational and training resources."

  "What about the rest?"

  "I am the ship's main and only computer, except for a small backup that is capable of operating the ship in an emergency."

  Ron had an idea. "Then, do you contain a schematic of the ship?"

  "Of course, sir. However, the Captain has restricted that information. If you would like, I will notify you if the Captain lifts that restriction."

  Ron was disappointed. He had really wanted to see if there was a way to get to the crew's quarters. "Please do so," he told the computer.

  Ron talked with the computer for well over an hour, and then went to brief Cesar on his findings. He was excited. It seemed EarthGov had not simply abandoned them. They had seeds for food crops, and the fertilized ova of dozens of domesticated animals, and hundreds of wild ones. They had tools, and they had workshops to make more tools.

  Ron introduced Vlad and Susan to the computer, and authorized them as instructors. Then he had each of them talk to the computer to become familiar with it and the capabilities available. Then the three of them sat down with Cesar and began to design an education program for the residents of the dorm.

  People spoke of the Drones as illiterate and uneducated, but the educational attainments varied widely. Some had never set foot inside a classroom. Others had completed anywhere from a few weeks to completion of high school. Two actually had some postsecondary education. Cesar, of course, had a degree in Education.