Condition Zero, page 6
part #6 of The Earth Saga Series
Vara Vara looked at Steven, then towards the angry Japanese financier. “He has survived. He never raises a hand to other slaves.”
“Then who ordered those machines to beat us yesterday?” Nikki asked.
“All the bots on this estate act on programming. If you ran, then they followed their protocol.”
Vara Vara looked at his forearm. There was something embedded in the skin that Steven couldn’t quite see, but once he had glanced at it, he quickly beckoned them to follow him to the morning meal.
No one was happy. Some of the group were either still in shock or rage, but all ten of the humans followed the blue alien out of their living space, and out of the structure to a large open-air area with dozens of tables that looked like picnic benches. Each table was large enough for twenty people, and half of the tables were completely full of aliens of all different shapes and sizes.
Steven’s jaw dropped when he saw the myriad of aliens sat before him. They were all dressed in the same white jumpsuit as Vara Vara, and each table had different lettering on them.
“What’s with the outfits?” Steven asked, following the alien to an open table.
“Each batch of new slaves gets a number. That is what you see on the back of the uniforms. On the front is the specific number.”
“So, what does 6175-12 mean?” Steven asked.
Vara Vara frowned. “I am slave twelve of slave group six-thousand-one-hundred-seventy-five.”
“What?”
Vara Vara nodded. “The Basurvya family has owned this land for three thousand years, in that time, they have had many groups of slaves arrive.”
Steven ran the numbers in his head. “So, in that time, they’ve had almost two groups of slaves arrive per year?”
Vara Vara nodded. “You are group 6177.”
They reached their table and sat down. Everyone in silence. A pair of droids brought out trays with food, and a drink on them, and placed them in front of each person, including Vara Vara.
Steven watched as the machines moved about the large dining area. A roof kept them out of direct sunlight, while the open nature of the area allowed a fresh breeze to continually roll across the tables.
“I didn’t expect table service.” Steven said.
Vara Vara took a sip from his drink. “They want us to have all our strength for work, and the droids are cheap to run.” He tucked into his food, a row of razor-sharp teeth visible. “The fruit we pick is so delicate that no droid has ever been built to handle it.”
Steven took a spoonful of his food into his mouth fearing the worst, but it tasted like scrambled eggs. “And this fruit, it’s valuable?”
Vara Vara smiled. “In the old Empire, Fris was known as the planet that supplied the finest fruits available.”
“The Empire?”
Vara Vara nodded. “There used to be peace in the galaxy. One Emperor ruling over everyone.”
“What happened?” Steven asked.
Vara Vara continued with his meal. “I don’t know. There has been war for countless years.”
“How did you come to be here?”
Vara Vara swallowed what was in his mouth, then looked at Steven. “I killed my family.”
Steven blinked a few times but didn’t say a word.
“They were infected with a virus. I did them a favour.”
“And for that, you were sent here?”
“No.” Vara Vara responded. “I had two choices. Death or a labour camp. This is what I chose.”
Steven could see that his new acquaintance was holding his emotions in check.
“I’m sorry.”
Vara Vara nodded. “As am I.” He took another sip of his drink. “We are treated well here.”
Steven looked around the dining area. Everyone view was eating. Chatting. Around the perimeter were a series of droids, all holding what looked like batons.
“But you’re a slave.”
Vara Vara looked up from his tray. His blue eyes almost blending into his blue skin. “What can I do?”
Steven didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know anything. He was new here.
But fuck that, he thought to himself.
He might have left the army, but once a soldier, always a soldier. He was going to fight. Maybe not today, but when the time was right, he’d make his move.
A hand rested on his arm. It was a light touch. Steven looked to his right and saw the face of Bindi Champion Bay. The maths teacher.
Steven looked back down Bindi’s hand. “Yes?”
Bindi nodded. “I know what you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “My people understand the thing that you’re experiencing for the first time.” He looked at Vara Vara, then back to Steven. “Don’t be a fool.”
Steven opened his mouth to speak.
“If you want freedom, it will take patience.” Bindi said.
Vara Vara shook his head. “There is no real chance of freedom. Ever.”
The comment sent Bindi back to his seat.
Once the meal was finished, Vara Vara led the group to a small room at the rear of the barracks where a machine took a scan of each of the humans, then constructed a series of jumpsuits that reminded Steven of fishing waders, with a rubberised boot at the bottom. After the extra sets of clothes were stored in the living quarters, Vara Vara led the group towards the field that was going to be their responsibility.
The sun was high in the sky, and while it wasn’t hot, it was dry, and walking along the raised causeway in between other fields, Steven couldn’t help but notice that other slaves were already out picking the small fruit from the farmlands which all had a half metre of water on them.
Reaching their area of responsibility, Vara Vara stopped the group.
“Sit down.”
Everyone did as asked, and sat down on the causeway, legs dangling over the shallow water below. Looking into the water, Steven could see the bottom, which was almost completely covered in tiny plants.
Vara Vara stepped down into the water, being careful where he put his feet. Pulling out a small metallic disk from the side pocket of his waders, he set it in the water, allowing it to just float next to him.
“This is straightforward work.” He pointed at the water. “In each field there are is a different number of rows of plants. Each plant has three pieces of fruit on it in the high season every morning for collection. In the low season, which we are in now, there is only one piece of fruit.” He leaned into the water and pulled out a black and red coloured berry that was the size of a marble.
“All you do is pick each piece of fruit on each plant, then place it in your floating tray.” He set the fruit down, then took a step to the next plant, and repeated the drill. “All you do is move up and down the rows collecting the fruit.” He looked over the field. “This field is not large.” He pointed at the humans. “You should be able to clear it in less than five hours.”
Steven looked at the field. It was roughly the size of a rugby pitch.
“Once you think your trays are too full, all you do is call for collection, and a drone will come and collect your gatherings.”
“What happens when we are done collecting?” Asked Oliver Peters.
“You go back to the room and wait until the next day.” Vara Vara added.
“And what if we refuse to pick any of this shit?” Sam Copperbottom asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Nikki asked.
“Nothing.” Vara Vara repeated. “But the field must be picked every day, and the fields are allotted based on the size of your group, so if one does not work, there is more work for the others.”
“And if we all refuse to work?” Charlotte Green asked.
“Then, you will suffer.” Vara Vara replied. “They will beat you. They will whip you. And if you do not work after that, they will kill you.” The tone was the same the entire time. There was no empathy, nothing. He was numb to it all now.
He pointed at Steven. “6177-1.”
Steven looked down at the symbol on the front of his outfit, then up to Vara Vara.
“Try it.” The alien encouraged.
Steven took a deep breath, then hopped down into the water, careful not to stamp on any of the submerged plants. Moving over to where Vara Vara was standing, he looked down at the small plants and spotted the little piece of fruit that was attached to it. Reaching into the water, he grasped the fruit gently, then pulled it away from the plant. It came off easily.
Righting himself, he pulled out his tray and set it in the water, then carefully put the piece of fruit on top of it, then looked at Vara Vara. The alien picked up the piece of fruit and examined it.
“A job well done. No damage to the berry.” He set the fruit back down. “You.” He pointed at Nikki. “Your turn.”
The process continued until everyone in the group had picked at least one piece of fruit. Once Vara Vara was confident that everyone had a rudimentary understanding of what to do, he put them under Steven’s charge, climbed up onto the causeway, and moved off to the adjacent field where his group was already picking fruit at a swift pace.
Suddenly without guidance, the humans lingered where they were standing for a few moments until a tall, dark grey droid walked over to their field and unfurled the punishment whip. It was enough to snap Steven’s mind back into gear.
“Right!” He was nervous. “Everyone spread out and take a lane.” He waved his hand towards the end of the field that was further away from the causeway. “We might as well get this over with as fast as possible.”
They went to work. Some faster than others. It was their first day working on Fris. The air was warm. The water was fractionally cooler than the air temperature, and whenever they put their arms into the water, their skin tingled. The waders they wore kept them dry, and as they moved down the rows, someone would occasionally call for collection. To no one’s surprise, the bin-man Oliver Peters was going about his work the fastest.
Steven tried to keep his mind on the task, but every time he looked up from the water, he was mesmerised by the environment he found himself in. It was gorgeous. Fields covered in water and hills as far as the eye could see. Blue skies stretched to the horizon. Every once in a while, a strange insect would land on the water nearby. The most common were silver coloured and would try and steal the berries he had picked.
Eventually, their day’s work was complete. It hadn’t taken five hours, it took eight. Steven wasn’t exhausted by the end of the day, but his back was sore from bending over all the time to collect the fruit. When they got back to their quarters, Vara Vara was there to show them how the washing facilities worked. After they had washed and changed into new jumpsuits, he led them back to the dining facility where they ate in silence with all the other slaves.
As the sun started to set in the distance, a tear began to run down Steven’s cheek. He didn’t want to die here. He looked over to Nikki and quickly whipped the tear away before she could see it. He didn’t want her to die here either.
12 May
23-Hvolsvöllur
Anna hadn’t slept well since the village gathering. She was smoking more, which was hard for her to believe, and she was drinking vodka again. Her husband was missing in Reykjavik, or somewhere near Reykjavik, presumed dead, and now she had to decide whether or not to join the rest of the village in the dream of escaping to the Faroe Islands.
In a nutshell, everything sucked.
Sitting on her Ikea couch, she watched Thor as he played on the floor, she was starting to lose hope. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to survive winter alone, in the cold north Atlantic. She could go quietly in the night. Open all the doors and windows. Let the cold take her.
“Mommy.”
Anna blinked herself back to reality.
She looked down at her little blonde monster of a son. Even at the age of five, he was starting to look like his father.
“Yes, my dear?”
24-Maputo
Shakil was in the hotel’s large swimming pool, his arms resting on the chilled tiles on the side, his legs floating behind him. His eyes were fixed on the ocean that lay just under two-hundred metres away. He loved the sound that the waves made when they broke on the rocks at the water's edge. It was calming.
The stress from two days ago had been replaced quickly by the demands of his job. It was never a dull moment working at the hotel, and with the army trying to keep the city in order, things were that much more trying.
The policeman that had troubled Shakil had been executed by Lieutenant Colonel Nyussi personally, and the rest of the force hadn’t even blinked. The city belonged to the army, and no one was going to upset the applecart.
A loud splash behind him unsettled his peace, and when he turned around, he could just see the waves from whoever had jumped into the pool. Looking into the water, he could see a figure swimming towards him along the bottom of the pool in a pair of light-blue swim trunks. When the figure reached a position near Shakil, he slowly surfaced.
It was Lieutenant Colonel Nyussi.
“Hello, Sir.”
Nyussi spat some water out of his mouth onto the pool deck, then rested his forearms on the side of the pool. “You’re not in the army, kid, don’t call me Sir.”
Shakil nodded, then looked back to the ocean.
“Your father was a fisherman?” Nyussi asked.
“Yes.” Shakil responded in a hushed tone.
“From Zavala? Up the coast?”
Shakil nodded in silence.
“I was born in Zavala.” Nyussi said. “We’ve got a great thing going here. The country is under our control, the capital is ours.” Nyussi splashed some water on his face. “But none of it will last.”
Shakil was not paying much attention, but the last comment made his ears pucker up. Even for a boy of fourteen, he knew the sound of doubt when he heard it.
“Do you still have any family up in Zavala?”
Shakil nodded. “An aunt.”
“You should think of visiting her one day, and not returning.”
“But my work is here.” Shakil said.
“This can’t last. What happened to you the other day with the cop is just the beginning of the next stage in the collapse of society. One day you’re going to wake up, and everything is going to be falling apart.” Nyussi arched his neck up, straining to look towards the sky. “Either we’re going to tear each other apart down here, or those monsters up there are going to destroy us.”
Shakil thought about what the soldier was saying. It made sense to him, as best as he could grasp what was going on in the universe. The planet had been thrown into chaos, and the monsters above the earth could kill them all at the moments notice if they wanted to.
25-The White House
The Oval Office was half full. President Bednarik had called in all his advisors that were still in the capital. Several had gone back to their home states. Many realised that the only way to prevent a full-fledged melt-down in law and order was to keep small, local governments running. The federal government still had control over the active duty military, but other than that, it exercised very little authority outside of the District of Columbia.
The usual suspects were present. The President sat in his chair, flanked by his two most trusted advisors, his chief of staff and his national security advisor. On the couch to his left was his war-council, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Anderson, 3rd Infantry Regiment Commander, Colonel Jesup, and his Secretary of Defence, George Garnier. On the other couch was his brain-trust: the head of the Department of Energy, and his closest friend, Andy Barnham, the head of NASA, John Riley, and director of the CIA, Angela Simmons, who was still impeccably dressed while all the men in the room had gone for the more casual look while the soldiers had gone for combat fatigues.
“I’ve asked everyone here today to make an announcement.” Bednarik looked over the faces in the room. “As you know, Colonel Hunt and his team are expected back in the system in three days to free this planet from the Coalition.” He paused and consulted the sheet of paper in his hand. “I realise that whatever the Colonel is planning is high risk, and from what I understand, much of it hinges on the success of the operation in Kansas.” He looked at John Riley.
“You are correct, Mr President. We understand that the device in Kansas is the key to everything.” The head of NASA answered.
Bednarik nodded. “With that in mind, I had General Anderson alert a National Guard unit from Pennsylvania to be ready to escort me to Fort Riley, leaving later today.”
“What?” Andy Barnham blurted out. “Mr President, I believe that it is safest if you remain here, in Washington.”
The President waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “I’m not doing any good here.” He looked over at the Chairman. “General Anderson has guaranteed me that he can get me to Kansas safely.”
“I’d like to come with you, Mr President.” John Riley said.
The President nodded. “Everyone who wants to come is invited.” The President replied. “In my absence, General Anderson will command the area that Colonel Jesup’s men have secured.”
“I’m not really sure that is how the succession of power works, Mr President.” Commented George Garnier, the Secretary of Defense.
“We’re living in dangerous times, George, and right now, the only organisation that has any effectiveness left in the capital is the army, and I’m going to let them keep a lid on things in my absence.” The President looked at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General, can you run us through your transport plan?”
The General opened up a file on his lap and looked around the room. “The 111th is on its way down to DC as we speak. Once they arrive, they’ll liaise with the Secret Service and the Tier One team at the White House. Once everyone and everything is set, we’ll depart for Fort Riley at best speed.”
Angela Simmons, the smartly dressed CIA director, cut the General off. “How can you be sure that the route is safe?” She looked around the room. “How can you be sure that the route will even be passable?”
