Hades. The First Steps (hadesjan cycle Book 1), page 8
“Excuse me, what if I’m interested in the other offer?” I asked.
“No, you’re not,” the chairman replied instantly.
“But I am! It’s a very serious offer,” there’s always a chance that where two dogs fight for a bone, the third one may nibble at it. “Could I please find out about both offers to choose the more favorable one?” Was I asking for too much?
Nobody was listening to me. The traders were eyeing each other, a non-verbal struggle was taking place without my active part. With a heavy heart, I was watching InCorp win. I wondered if this whole scene had been staged or if there really was a conflict of interests.
The chairman moved a pile of documents my way.
“This is the only offer you can get,” I felt like a pilot who can see a growing meteorite heading his way. The blow will be kickass painful, and the consequences unknown. Just like first-time sex. “You enter into the contract for five Hadesian years, standard wages plus insurance. Please sign legibly on the last page and put your initials in every top right hand corner.” The gates of hell started opening.
“Stop and don’t sign anything! Mister Pavel Tsenre cannot sign this contract.” A lieutenant accompanied by two soldiers stood behind the row of board members. It was the first time that I felt the military was doing the thing they were supposed to do: come to the rescue at the eleventh hour. Long live the Space Cavalry! Lest I get myself into bigger trouble.
“Mister Chairman, here are the suitable documents,” the officer handed a sealed envelope to the man. The seal was broken immediately. Out of the envelope slid a small yellow card. The head of the pack of hyenas read it quickly. He looked at me resigned.
“Take him.”
“What? Why?” The representative of InCorp stood up clearly irritated by the whole situation. You don’t like losing, huh? The anger in his peepers was priceless. “I demand an explanation!”
The lieutenant spoke to me directly.
“Pavel Tsenre, ID 731-130-05-64?”
‘That’s me.”
“You’ve just been mobilized. Follow me.”
“Oh fuck,” I sputtered.
Chapter V
I’m standing here looking at my own reflection in the mirror. Why are you grinning, you idiot? The mirror is small and is hanging on a hideously painted wall in a bathroom so small that you can hardly turn around. The adjacent room is not much bigger. A narrow bed, which is a revolving element of the wall, a now turned-off computer terminal, and a miniature stool standing in the corner is all the furniture I have. But I am really happy. I’ve just put on some undies. Such a simple thing, repeated so many times in my life. A piece of poorly sewn material. A little thing that brings a lot of joy. Am I losing it or what? Maybe I am, although you can’t see it in the mirror. My hair has grown back a lot. I’ve just run my hand through it. I had it cut before the departure, a few weeks ago. It had a lot of time for unhindered growth. When my hair becomes longer, it begins to curl, a thing which I take after my father. It’s the only good thing that he passed on to me through his genes. When the opportunity arises I’ll have to have my ears lowered. I got my blue eyes from the fairer sex. I hope nothing else. Am I unjust and don’t respect my parents? Nonsense. It’s out of respect that I got the hell out of my house and into the other end of the galaxy. Had I stayed, I would have had to get things off my chest, and since I haven’t, we are officially a happy family. I hear that all information sent from Hades is under scrutiny and the cost of sending one byte is astronomical. All that makes frequent contact impossible, which is a bloody advantage.
Thank god I don’t have to shave too often. I won’t go around scaring people away with my stubble for a few days. My face is slim, maybe even too slender. That’s my metabolism – whatever I eat runs quickly through my body. Obesity is not a threat. I could do with a few extra kilos though.
I can hardly hear a slight knock on the door.
“Come in!” What a change! – somebody actually knocks before entering. I put my head into the room and see a well-built corporal standing in the door. He’s wearing a light blue uniform, a different type than all the others. Have I got into the hands of another formation? He’s had a quick look around the place.
“The lieutenant is kindly asking to talk to you in fifteen minutes.” Is kindly asking? That’s new. So no pulling, kicking, or pouring cold water?
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” I reply politely, although I’m dying to use some four letter words instead. I’d better not tease the soldier without reason. Something in his eyes tells me it would be better not to.
I stay alone again. The rest of my clothes are lying on the bed neatly folded. I put them on. The vest, socks, pants and a military sweatshirt without flashes or insignia. Everything fits like a glove. By the door in the corner there is a pair of strong boots – black, long, on a thick sole. If you kicked somebody with those.... What is it? Where does all the aggression come from? If I have such thoughts, how am I different from those beasts? I sit on the stool and clutch my head. I can still see the dead body carried on the cart. What was her name? I should remember, for god’s sake. If my life had gone differently, would I have been able to do the same things as them? Maybe there’s a dormant monster inside of everyone, and you only have to wake him to see his bare teeth. Something warm is trickling down my cheeks. Another knock on the door. I wipe the wet bits of remorse off my face and go outside. The same corporal with a vigilant look.
“I’m ready,” I reply with composure. Could it get any worse?
“This way, please,” he leads me. He’s walking a step behind me, to my left. I’ve been mobilized. What does it mean? I believe people get drafted only when a war breaks out? But a war with whom? I’m not interested in politics, but the general situation seems stable. The government functions well. Political parties work normally, throwing shit at each other at every opportunity. Nothing to worry about. In a nutshell, we don’t have a war. Then why the mobilization card? I know that having graduated from school I have to go through compulsory military training, but that’s in the civil sector. Many of my buddies have done that. It’s good fun. Once a week you have to show up in the Local Civil Defense Unit. Gloomy NCOs drone on about the hard duty you face for the good of our beloved country. Soon afterwards the big boys all meet to drink beer around a campfire. After a few rounds, the same NCOs start giving advice on how to bluff your way out of the service. That’s life.
“Where are we going?” I ask the corporal.
“You’ll find out about the details when we get there. I’m sorry but I can’t provide you with any further information.” What an exhaustive answer! I didn’t know corporals had such elaborate vocabulary. Or maybe he’s trying to put me off my guard. A sudden eureka moment! It’s because of my blood type, the rare A Rh negative! I’m sure they need organs for transplantation. Damn! The idea sets off alarm bells in my head. Run! But I suddenly feel a heavy arm on my left shoulder.
“Please stop here.”
We’re standing in front of an office door. I can hear raised voices coming from the inside. Unfortunately I can’t make anything of the conversation. We remain standing like that for a few minutes. I glance discreetly at the corporal. Nothing – he keeps staring at the closed door. His face doesn’t show emotion. When we were coming here he walked quietly like a cat. I couldn’t hear his footsteps. It’s better not to get in his way. There’s no getting away from here. Besides, where would I go?
The door opens with a huge bang. I can see the face of captain Richard Steward swelled with anger. He turns back to somebody inside the room.
“It’s not over!” he shouts. He looks our way and notices me. He makes a step forward with a face distorted by fury. Somebody blocks my view and I can suddenly see a massive bull neck in front of me. It’s the corporal. I can’t hear anybody saying anything. After a while there’s the sound of somebody walking away. His footsteps squeak against the linoleum floor. The corporal steps aside and in the doorstep I can see a smiling lieutenant, the same who got me out of the hands of the medical board.
“Hello,” he was either a good actor or really glad to see me. “Do come inside. Corporal, bring two teas, please. I’m parched. Do you take sugar?” he asked me.
“One spoon, please,” I said without thinking.
“Come in.” The office was small and quite austere, with just a desk, a few chairs and a huge safe. The working conditions were pretty ascetic.
“Take a seat. You’ve been through a rather difficult time recently.”
“Rather?” I asked not hiding my astonishment.
“I’d say it’s a euphemism. Nothing in the conduct of the Fleet can really surprise me.”
“And who’s saying it? You’re wearing a uniform yourself.”
“There’s a difference though.”
“And what is it? I’m sorry, but I can’t see any.” Was he just teasing me?
“So far you’ve been under the jurisdiction of the Cosmic Fleet. Since now the Marine Corps are taking command.”
“What about the whole mobilization thing? Has a war broken out?”
“A war? No,” he smiled. “Although the conflict between the Fleet and the Corps isn’t very different. There’s no end to this stalking game. You’ve been drafted into the army because at a time of alert like now the whole technical personnel must work under central supervision. Until the danger is averted, of course, after which time all the corporations get their workers back.”
“So what’s happened?”
“I don’t know,” the officer shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t really looked through the documents I got from my supervisors. On Hades something happens every day. Yesterday thirty miners were buried alive. Today two ferries crashed. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? One tragedy follows another. Hades is a very dangerous planet.” The guy was beginning to get on my nerves.
The corporal came back with the tea and cookies, my grandmother’s favorite, original “Weldosky Pie.” When was the last time I tasted them?
“Please make sure we’re not disturbed.” The lieutenant waited until the soldier had left. Then he opened his desk drawer and took out a file, which he placed in front of me. I still had my eyes fixed on the cookies.
“Please familiarize yourself with these materials. A lot depends on it,” he said with a calm voice, but I could detect coldness in it. The niceties were over. I squeezed out a sponge biscuit with jelly covered with thick chocolate from the nearby box. What a taste! Rose filling. I let the jelly play with my taste buds. Then I washed it with a sip of tea. I was used to drinking weak tea. Now I was discovering the pleasure of strong essence. Heavenly tastes at the gates of hell.
I opened the file. Inside there were a lot of technical drawings, some sketches, parameter charts, norms conversion tables. Extracts from scientific papers, in which the most important parts were highlighted. Despite the fact that I was very tired, I realized the sheets of paper looked familiar. I knew this handwriting and I had already read it somewhere. I quickly drank up my tea. Even the rumbling of my stomach didn’t sabotage the revelation. Full sentences started to come back to me before my eyes managed to read them in print.
“These are significant extracts from my graduation paper. Somebody has gone to great lengths to verify my findings. I can even see some spectral photos. It must have cost a bit.”
“I don’t know the details, but surely close to a few thousand credits,” the officer confirmed. “We believe it was worth it. It’s better to bear the cost now than spend billions on faulty equipment.” He took a carafe with amber-colored content. He poured it into two glasses. He handed one of them to me.
“I’m first lieutenant Kris Stone, Earth Marine Corps,” he introduced himself.
“Pavel Tsenre, a technician, the future victim of InCorporation slayers. Cheers!” I gulped the contents of the glass. “Those hyenas will never let me off the hook for their lost contracts.”
“One more?” he offered.
“What the heck, let’s have one more.” I had no doubts. The Incorporation clearly specified the terms on which they would leave me alone. I had just learned that lucrative contracts were slipping through their fingers. The company, which prime ministers, ministers, not to mention governors, didn’t want to mess around with, is going to rip my head off at the butt and piss inside. I’ve heard about mysterious disappearances of people accused of lesser crimes, such as hacking their network or password theft. I don’t know if anybody ever managed to escape their revenge.
“Chin up! It’s true that you’ve got influential enemies, but what’s done is done. What are friends for?”
“Huh!” What a funny guy. “The last friend I had stole my girlfriend! Dear God, save me from my friends. I can handle my enemies myself.”
Well, maybe in that case the saying might prove wrong. The alcohol starts working. Two glasses doesn’t seem much, does it? After so many hours without a meal, however, it attacks the body like a tsunami. On the other hand, maybe my organs will save someone’s life? What a noble death! My sacrifice for the greater good. Looks like I have a ticket to heaven already in my pocket. And what if I save a few lives? Do I get a few tickets? Or maybe I’ll get a sweet angel into the bargain? That would be nice. But no, to get to heaven you need to make sacrifices voluntarily. What nonsense! Or maybe I’ll get a special offer. A hundred million years of eternity or the right to light up the first star.
“I can see you’re tired and hungry. Let’s not make this conversation longer than necessary,” the lieutenant put the bottle away. “Having studied the case, a few influential people in the Corps decided to create a research unit that would deal with verifying the equipment as to its technical effectiveness on the battlefield. Hades seems an ideal location for that. And you seem to be a good candidate for the job. Would you be interested?”
“And what if I refuse?” I was wondering what his response would be.
“You’ll go back to the medical board, and your mobilization card will be annulled.” Exactly what I expected. What to choose: a paradise almost guaranteed or being sent back to Hades? What a dilemma!
“Fine,” I mumbled. Somehow I’m not in the mood for sex with a sweet angel. Those bloody wings must really get in the way. And how to differentiate between a she-angel and he-angel if both are covered in fluff? “But let me ask you a few questions.”
“Of course,” he answered politely.
“Does this unit already exist or is it being created?”
“It’s being created. We’ve got several storage rooms with all the necessary equipment from a business friend. Have you ever heard of Bio&Sonic?”
“Not a thing.”
“They manufacture some sort of electronic junk. They have built a small quarry on Hades. They employ a few dozen workers and their families. The company is so small that any stranger quickly stands out. And due to the type of resources they mine, it is situated in the middle of nowhere, with frequent earthquakes, highly toxic fallout, twilight zone – in other words: the second circle of hell.”
“And is there a third one?” He didn’t get the joke. Do dark-haired angel girls exist? I wondered.
“This company is going to act as a cover-up.” He continued. “You’ll officially become its worker – they’ll find a simple job for you.” I can picture it already. Given my luck, I’ll be mopping the corridors.
“But you’ll be working for us under cover of compulsory military training. Any questions?”
“Does it mean signing a contract?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“The standard two years. Salary plus insurance, everything in compliance with the law.”
“I came here for a year, not longer,” I try protesting mildly.
“I’m sorry but two years is a minimum. Everybody who came on The Pride of Heldor has to sign a five year contract.”
“And when the two years are over, will I be able to fly away from here?” He didn’t answer. Can you get used to fluff on the ass?
“I came here with a friend. Is it possible to make him part of the project?” I suggested. It’s always better to work alongside a familiar face.
“I’m afraid not. Edward Watt didn’t get the recommendation required for the job. He signed a contract with Lotus-Petrol. He’ll be working for the refinery, quite close, some 250 miles away.”
“Close like hell,” I sighed.
“Well, in this environment it’s pretty close. It’s our nearest neighboring company. The next in line is 1250 miles further away. A refinery must be located aside due to the risk of explosion,” he explained. To spend five years on a barrel of rocket fuel? Thanks, I’d rather slave away with a mop.
“All right then, give me the papers.” I had no choice. Pretty angels, you’ll have to wait for me.
The officer handed me the documents. It didn’t take long. He then walked me to the door.
“Corporal, take this young man here to the canteen. Let him have a proper meal. He can hardly stand on his legs.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got three hours to the departure. I’ll join you later.”
“So you’re flying with us?” I asked surprised.
“All the way down, my friend.” Looks like the Corps isn’t short of idiots either.
We finally made it to the canteen. My legs began to buckle. Too much excitement. I grabbed a tray and cutlery, and spooned any food there was, without even thinking. The corporal also had some, but not much, just to keep me company. He led me to a table where a few Marines were sitting. They made room for me.
“A new one?” one of them asked my mentor.
“Yup,” the corporal said, shoving a spoonful of pudding into his mouth. “He’s the last one. We’re getting off this shithole in three hours.”
“Good. I get sick when I see this mob,” another one grumbled, pointing his head in the direction of a nearby table. I looked there and froze with my spoon hanging in the air. A dozen feet away sat sergeant Gall in the company of his suck-ups. One of them was eyeing me with particular disgust. I momentarily lost my appetite.
