Exiled to the Stars Read online

  As they approached the room, they could already hear a woman loudly complaining about being "accosted by armed thugs" and "brought here by force."

  The woman was a large Caucasian with an equally large voice. By the time Cesar and Ron entered the room, she was volubly cursing the early arrivers as "cowards" for failing to protest "this high-handed, illegal treatment!"

  Ron didn't know the woman, but he knew the type: loud and obnoxious. The kind who swore that no one would 'take advantage of them'. Often, they became political agitators, convinced that anyone who didn’t share their political beliefs were cowards, traitors, or criminals. Ron noticed that her hands were scarred. He wondered how many violent demonstrations she had attended or incited.

  No one seemed anxious to sit near the woman, but as the room filled, there was no choice. There was only one seat per dorm.

  Ron thought he recognized the heavyset man from Dorm 17 who finally sat down next to the woman. But he was certain he recognized the slight young man with the dead eyes that accompanied the man. Paco. One of the two men they had swapped with from Dorm 7. Rafael Rodriguez' sidekick. Paco also recognized Ron and Cesar, but his face carried no expression as he nodded slightly. Ron suppressed a shudder.

  After a moment, the heavyset man backhanded the still-complaining woman across the face and told her to "shut up, bitch" in a gravelly voice.

  She squawked and "well, I never'd,", but no one protested the movement. She stared daggers at everyone at the table, but she didn't vent her obvious hostility verbally.

  Precisely at 0900, the Captain entered, and took his seat at the head of the table. For a long moment, he simply looked at those around the table. He was wearing his dress uniform, the black and silver of Command with four gold bars sewn into the shoulders. The loud and angry woman opened her mouth to begin her litany of complaint, but then glanced at the large man and remained silent.

  Finally, the Captain spoke. "Until now, I have met only a few of you. That is about to change. We are now on course and on schedule, and you'll be happy to hear that the hyperdrive is functioning flawlessly, which is never a sure thing. I am Captain Angelo, and it is my responsibility to get us to a planet where we can make a home. Now, I would like to go around the table, with each of you introducing yourselves and your dorms."

  Seated on the Captain's right was a thin, rather nervous-looking middle-aged man who introduced himself as Rikhart Janeson, from Dorm 12. The introductions proceeded smoothly until they reached the woman whose face was beginning to bruise.

  "Finally!" She said huffily. "I'm Sarah Welsey from Dorm 21, and I protest this entire proceeding! I don't know what kind of ship you're running here, Captain, but to have us forced to this meeting at gunpoint is illegal and uncalled for! And then, once I arrive under protest, I'm assaulted by this savage, and none of your precious sailors even lifted a finger to prevent it! I shall certainly report this outrage at the first opportunity!" She swung her head to ensure that everyone at the table was subjected to her angry glare. Her already angry face reddened even more when she turned her glare on the man who had slapped her, and he blew her a kiss. She turned back to the Captain. "I demand that you do something!"

  Captain Angelo was suppressing a smile, and he wasn't the only one around the table. The Captain forced his expression to seriousness. "Ah, yes," he began. "Sarah Welsey. I have an entire folder on my computer devoted to your amusing rants and complaints. Tell me," he continued, as she seemed ready to explode. "Did you listen to anything you were told during your training? We are many light-years from Earth and EarthGov, and we won't be going back. Ever. And you, you silly woman, had better get used to the idea that out here, legal is what I say it is! For now, please be quiet and listen. You might even learn something. I doubt it, but I'm an optimist." He turned his gaze to the man who had slapped Sarah Welsey, as she huffed, "Well! I never!"

  The man beside her chuckled. "Oh," he said, "I'll bet you have." He turned to the Captain with an arrogant sneer. "I'm Jake Reilly, from 'Cago. Hell, I owned 'Cago, 'til the only man I trusted sold me out. Now, I own Dorm 17 and 18, and in a couple of weeks, I'll have 15 and 16, as well." He turned an ugly smile on the representatives of those unlucky dorms before turning back to the Captain. "Anyways, we're doin' just fine right now, Captain. You just stay up here and prance around in your fancy uniform and drive the ship. We'll take care of the rest. By the time we find a planet you won't have to talk to anyone but me."

  The Welsey woman gasped, and most of the others around the table looked shocked. They had listened to their training, and they were waiting to see how the Captain would answer this direct challenge to his authority.

  He seemed unfazed. "Ah, yes. Messer Reilly. I've been looking forward to our meeting. You realize, of course, that your comments just now constitute mutiny.

  “So call a cop.” Reilly shrugged. “Aah, don’t worry, Captain,” he continued with a comfortable smile. “I ain’t got control yet. You just keep doin’ what you been doin’. Anythin’ I don’t like, I’ll let you know.”

  The Captain nodded, seemingly unperturbed by Reilly’s challenge. “I see.” He said quietly. “And I assume this young man next to you is Mr. Paco Benitez from Dorm 18?" Paco only nodded slowly, expressionless.

  Captain Angelo nodded. "Excellent." His right hand suddenly appeared from beneath the table holding a hand laser, and there were two actinic flares. Reilly had a surprised expression on his face, and a black laser burn between and one inch above his eyes. Paco, on the other hand, still showed no expression as he slumped beside Reilly.

  Pandemonium erupted. All three of the women present screamed, and most of the men jumped to their feet, cursing. Captain Angelo remained seated and relaxed as four of the red-clad crewmen removed the bodies, and others kept the rest from leaving.

  Only after the door closed behind the bodies did Captain Angelo display any sign that anything untoward had occurred.

  "Silence!" he shouted. "Everyone resume your seats immediately. We're not finished here."

  "Murder!" Sarah Welsey cried. "You murdered those men!" She suddenly looked frightened, as though she had suddenly realized that he could kill her as well. She quickly slid back into her seat, studiously avoiding looking at the Captain or the seats next to her.

  Angelo looked at her and smiled. "No, madam. I did not murder those men. I executed them. Between them, they were involved in the deaths of over a dozen colonists. And in case you didn't notice, what that man said to me constituted mutiny, an attempt to take over the ship."

  "But…but you can't just kill people without a trial or anything!" Welsey said in a quieter tone.

  "Of course he can."

  She whirled to stare at Cesar, who shook his head. "I'm no lawyer," he continued, "but even I know that a Captain's authority on a ship underway is absolute. He is truly the last of the absolute monarchs, and if you'd paid attention to your training, you'd know it, too."

  He threw the Captain a hidden wink as he continued, "And if Captain Angelo decides he's tired of your constant complaints and outrage, he could do the same thing to you. In fact, there is no one on this ship whose power and authority do not derive from the Captain. I would suggest you be much nicer to him, Mistress Welsey."

  "Ms," she said absently, apparently a reflex, since she seemed lost in thought. She also looked frightened. Ron suspected that some carefully crafted political plans had just crashed about her ears.

  Ron felt no pity for Reilly and Paco. In 'Cago, Reilly had been the crime boss. Nothing illegal or immoral happened in 'Cago without his approval. He had been reputed to have been responsible for dozens of murders, among other things.

  Ron remembered the news coverage when Reilly had been arrested, betrayed by a colleague. It had been headline news for over a week, despite a busy news period.

  And Paco had been a murderous sociopath and true sadist. Neither death was a loss to mankind. He returned his attention to the meeting as the Captain resumed speaking.

/>   Captain Angelo smiled at Cesar. "Thank you, uh, Messer…"

  "Cesar Montero, Captain, from Dorm 7. Actually, like the late unlamented Messer Reilly, Dorm 7 and Dorm 8 have recently joined, though in our case there was no coercion involved."

  The Captain nodded. "Of course. I am honored to meet you, sir. I consider your dorms something of a model of the kind of development I would like to see in all the dorms. And this, of course, is the redoubtable Messer Creding. He is one of the few colonists I have been privileged to meet."

  The introductions continued around the table until every dorm's representative had been introduced.

  Finally, the Captain nodded. "Thank you." He straightened, and his voice took on a businesslike note. "As I'm sure most of you have realized by now, there is a sophisticated surveillance system in the dorms. As time has permitted, I have been monitoring developments. A few have been impressive. Some have been disturbing. A few, like those of dorm 17, were disgusting. And many, unfortunately, have simply been boring; people sitting around listlessly, bemoaning their fates.

  "The EarthGov-approved instructions for Captains are surprisingly similar to Messer Reilly's ideas: The Captain should spend nearly all his time on the bridge, remote and godlike, pausing occasionally to hand down commandments from on high, enforced by the redsuits."

  He shook his head. "Four years ago, I was 'nonproductive,' a 'Nonprod,' a 'Drone.' Then the EarthGov Administrator for the Mediterranean region found he was behind on his quota for trainees. He began rounding up drones for mass testing. We were tested, and those who qualified were sent for crew training.

  "I find I cannot agree with EarthGov's ideas of ship command. Those are mostly derived from the military, where discipline and enforcement are foremost, or the merchant marine, where passengers are simply cargo, to be dropped off before returning to load another cargo.

  "I have lived in a ghetto. I have been called a 'Drone.' And if, no, when this ship finds a planet to settle, I will become a colonist. I am not interested in becoming a dictator, and I cannot simply sail away for another cargo. For good or ill, the crew and I will share your fate. If our colony prospers, we will also prosper. If our colony is destroyed, we too will be destroyed.

  "I have been inspired by developments in a few dorms, and I feel we must all follow their paths. When this ship grounds for its first and only time, we must emerge as one group, a single colony, not a ragtag assortment of people of many backgrounds. Such an assortment is unlikely to survive on even the most Earthlike world.

  "So far, I have been most impressed with Dorms 7 and 8. Messer Montero, would you be kind enough to explain what you have been doing?"

  Surprised, Cesar paused before clearing his throat. "Well, sir, we have had the good fortune to have the assistance of a number of good, educated people brought to us by Ron Creding and Dr. Vladimir Renko.

  "Messer Creding and Dr. Renko came to me on the first day and asked to buy out two of the thugs who terrorized our barangay in Manila. We arranged for them to do so. One of those who were paid to swap was the late Paco Benitez.

  "I believe it was Dr. Renko who suggested hiring a 'sheriff', and the residents of the dorm agreed to a 'tax' of one bulb of beer per month to hire Raymond Koh. Raymond got Messer Creding to recruit more educated 'Undies' to swap into our dorm, and Raymond, ah, 'convinced' the rest of the street gangsters in Dorm 7 to swap out. He also assembled a militia to protect the dorm from invasion by the likes of Messer Reilly.

  "Without the drag of gangster thugs to fear, our dorm has progressed. Messer Creding has assumed the post of head teacher, and he is assisted by his 'recruits'." He shrugged. "Nearly all of our progress is due to the people involved."

  Ron shook his head. "No. I'm afraid Cesar is vastly understating his own importance. He is the 'mayor' of both dorms. He realized that as long as his people remained uneducated, they would never be full partners in the new colony, and refused to allow them to settle for being peasants on the new world. He is the one who pressed his people to attend classes. He is the one who insists that English be the only language used in our dorms, and he is the one responsible for the concept of our two dorms becoming one 'village' instead of continuing with the division of two separate dorm numbers imposed by EarthGov. Our amalgamation is nearly complete, and as soon as our people agree on a name for it, we will begin calling ourselves 'Hope Village' or 'New Home Village'.

  "And we must not forget your own contribution either, Captain. Your provision of batons to our militia has enabled us to be secure as we developed our village."

  The Captain was smiling broadly. "As you can see," he told the others, "By joining together and sharing their strengths and their visions, these dorms are becoming a remarkable success story." He turned his smile onto Cesar. "And you may rest assured, sir, that when your people decide on the name for your 'village,' it will become the official name, for all purposes. Are you prepared to accept other dorms into your 'village'?"

  Cesar shook his head. "Sadly, Captain, I must say no. It is convenient for two dorms, which share a mess room, to amalgamate. I suspect it will be much harder for a dorm not tied to another to do so."

  The Captain's smile had not faded. "I understand, and agree that the structural necessities are a barrier we must overcome. That is part of the reason I asked you here today.

  "I have decided to establish a Resident's Council, a council of dorms. I am not ceding my authority as Captain; while we are in space the Council will be advisory only. But once we ground, the council should become a Governing Council, determining the course of development of our colony.

  "I propose a Council of 25 members, one from each dorm, and each properly elected by the residents of the dorm in free and open elections." He frowned. "I am aware that a number of dorms are currently dominated by leaders selected by other means. But the elections will be observed by the surveillance system, and if election of the Council representative is fraudulent, that representative will not be seated and the dorm will forfeit its participation until free elections are held."

  Sarah Welsey jumped to her feet. "That means that his phony 'village' dictatorship gets two votes instead of one!"

  Chapter 5

  December 8, 2103

  The Captain shook his head, but his smile didn't fade. "Wrong, wrong, and right, Ms. Welsey. It is not phony, it is not a dictatorship, and it will have two votes. Perhaps you should consider joining Dorm 22."

  She snorted. "Pah! Those lazy fools have no understanding of proper socialist principles. I personally approached them about forming a committee to assume responsibility for the proper apportionment of supplies and resources, and they actually laughed at me!"

  The Dorm 22 representative barked a laugh. "Yeah. This loudmouth came over and announced that she was going to put guards on the supply and food dispensers, and she would control what and how much everyone got. Some of our people punched out her guards the first day, and she's been screaming ever since. Mostly we just ignore her, but she's been sending people to talk to our people in the mess room, for all the good it's done her."

  The Captain nodded. "I see." He turned to Sarah Welsey. "I was under the impression that EarthGov had already decided the proper apportionment of supplies and resources. Exactly what do you consider 'proper' apportionment?"

  She sniffed. "Hmph. The current system is inequitable and inefficient. For example, alcoholics and people who do not even drink are apportioned identical beer rations, and treats are apportioned with no regard for whether they are deserved. Each dorm should appoint a committee to control the distribution of goods."

  "Including food?"

  "Of course! Food is the most basic human need. It is the most powerful means to motivate the people to civic virtue!"

  Cesar smiled and shook his head. "And of course you, as head of the committee, would need no such motivation, and could take all you wanted."

  She glared at him. "Sneer if you will, old man. But 'from each according to his ability, to eac
h according to his need' is the foundation of political theory!"

  "I believe you left out a word there, Ms. Welsey." The Captain put in. "Don't you mean 'the foundation of Marxist political theory?"

  She shrugged. "If you insist upon inflammatory rhetoric. The fact remains that a proper system controls the means of production in order to ensure that the needs of the proletariat are met."

  Cesar's smile broadened to a grin. "Ah, yes. The 'proletariat'. Who would that be, exactly? I was rather under the impression that I was the 'proletariat'. Or have you found a definition that excludes Drones?"

  She scowled. "Pah! You dominate the people with your 'sheriff' and your 'militia'. You are not the proletariat, your victims are! And you are abetted by this, this dictator that supplies the weapons for your goons. If I had been provided such weapons, I, too, could control two dorms!"

  "And she would, too." Put in the Dorm 22 representative. "Please, Captain, do not even consider arming her 'Peoples' Guardians'. So far, we've managed to keep those thugs under control. But give them weapons…" He shook his head.

  "Don't worry, Messer Adams, I have no intention of providing weapons to her, or to anyone else I consider a threat to other dorms."

  She snorted. "So much for your vaunted 'freedom' and 'equality', Captain. It is disgusting that a representative of EarthGov with such power could be so insensitive to the needs of the people he governs!

  "But," she continued, "Perhaps it is not your fault. Your unlettered upbringing, followed by EarthGov's imperialist indoctrination must have prevented your exposure to rational political theory."

  The Captain shook his head. "Oh, I was exposed to Marxist political theory and practice, Ms. Weldon. It was one of the main threats we were warned about.

  "Now, if the people of your dorm elect you to represent them in a fair and free election, even you will be welcome on the Council, much as it would pain me.