Justice Keepers Saga--Books 13-15, page 96
Arin used Bent Gravity again, pinning himself and Telixa against the wall beneath them. It didn’t stop their forward motion, but it did slow them down. When they passed over another slanted window, it shattered, and they fell into a viewing gallery for some art show. At least that was his guess. He saw a bunch of paintings on the walls and something that looked like an ugly sculpture. The people gathered there gasped in horror at this most unwelcome intrusion. One old lady fainted.
Arin stood up, grabbing Telixa’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Can you walk?” he asked.
She nodded.
“We need to get to the Gate.”
“This way,” she panted, taking off in a mad dash for the door.
After four days at the most humiliating job he had ever worked, Jack wanted to find the owners of this club and pummel them. He had suffered horrendous comments; he had been groped and grabbed by men and women alike. One guy in his late thirties – a suave, businessman type – wanted Jack to perform at something that sounded very much like a bachelor party. And there was no doubt in Jack’s mind that the “performance” would involve the removal of clothing. His answer was an emphatic no.
It was bad enough that people could just look at his chest whenever they wanted. He had never been very comfortable about letting other people see his body. Girlfriends were one thing, but strangers? Big no on that one.
At first, he had wondered why anyone would take these offers to make a little “side cash.” There had to be takers, or the guests wouldn’t keep offering. Then he learned how little the club was paying their employees.
They had all gathered in the break room after Ms. Loveli handed out their credit chits. Each one came in the form of a clear, plastic card about half the size of Jack’s pinky finger. Most of the employees received yellow cards, but Jack and Anna each got a red one. At first, he wasn’t sure what that meant. Was it just a stylistic difference?
He got his answer when he scanned his chit in the convenient card-reader they had placed in the break room. His salary was supposed to be three hundred credits per week. Not very much when you considered the fact that rent was twelve hundred credits per month. Without roommates, he wouldn’t have been able to survive on this job alone.
Three hundred credits a week: that was what it said in his contract. But for some reason, Loveli had only paid him two hundred and ten. Was it an after-tax thing? He seemed to recall them saying that employment contracts specified your after-tax income. He couldn’t see a reason for another deduction.
Yanking her card out of the scanner, Anna sighed. “This has to be a mistake,” she growled. “Some kind of accounting error. We’ll go talk to her.”
Jack held his up to the light, squinting as he examined the tiny circuit pathways that had been etched into it. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “You and I were the only ones who got red cards. Kinda seems deliberate, you know?”
“Why would they pay us less?” Anna grumbled.
“Because you’re illegals,” Kez said as if it should have been obvious. She was sitting on the edge of the long, rectangular table, gingerly massaging her sore foot and wincing every time she hit a tender spot. Those heels must have been killing her. “They pay you less because you’re not Ragnosian citizens.”
“That’s not specified in the contract!” Anna protested.
“Kind of an unspoken clause,” Kez muttered.
“They can’t do that!”
Kez looked up at her with unsympathetic eyes. “Sweetie, they can do whatever they want,” she said. “What are you gonna do, complain to the Bureau of Labour? They’ll deport you.”
Some of the others muttered their reluctant agreement.
Folding his arms – and then immediately uncrossing them when he realized that it would only draw attention to his chest – Jack stepped up to the table. “Sounds like maybe we need to do something about that.”
The hard stare Kez had flung at Anna was nothing compared to the one she unleashed on Jack. “And how are we supposed to do that?”
Ignoring her, Jack scanned the room. He wasn’t the only one with horror stories. Every person here had at least five.
He noticed a bespectacled, young man with dark skin who sat on the lumpy couch, idly picking at a loose thread on his shirt. The kitchen staff didn’t have to wear the same ridiculous outfits, but they were mistreated in other ways. “Hey, Jim!” Jack called out. “Didn’t you tell me you got sick with a stomach bug last month? They said that if you went home, they’d fire you. So, you worked until you passed out.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Kai,” Jack said, turning to a curly-haired man who stood in the corner. “You hurt your foot last week, but they make you carry those heavy packages up from the lower levels anyway. And you’ve been limping ever since.”
“Yeah.”
“Teryl, aren’t you sick of creepy, old pervs groping you?”
The young brunette who sat at the end of the table looked up from her makeup compact. After a moment of silence, she offered a reluctant nod. Still, he counted that as a victory.
Jack turned slowly on the spot, letting his gaze sweep over all of them. “They don’t even pay us enough to live!” he shouted. “And they expect us to take this crap? Enough is enough!”
Another round of mutters told him that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. He could feel Summer’s growing anticipation. She always liked it when he went into inspiration mode.
“Once again, Jack,” Kez said. “How do we change it?”
“Oh, it’s quite simple,” he replied with a triumphant grin. “We’re gonna form a union.”
22
“A union?” Voran said. He was a handsome man in his mid-twenties: lean with a strong chin, a tanned complexion and thick, dark hair. His eyes were the only reason that Ms. Loveli had assigned him to the kitchen. One was blue, the other hazel. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this.”
“Of course, we should,” Jack insisted.
“At the very least,” Teryl chimed in, “we shouldn’t be talking about it here.”
Well, she was right about that much. One of the managers might walk in at any moment. Never make battle plans in your enemy’s den. He was pretty sure that was a quote from some famous general. If it wasn’t, then famous generals were seriously overrated.
Sitting on the table with her mouth hanging open, Kez shook her head. “You realize they could fire all of us just for speaking the word,” she said. “And that would be best-case scenario.”
Jack spread his hands, shutting his eyes as he drew in a breath. “I’m not pretending to have all the answers,” he said. “I didn’t grow up on this world; I don’t know how it works here. But I do know a thing or two about bullies.
“They’re relentless. They’re gonna beat you down no matter what you do. There’s nothing you can say or do to change that.”
Some of the others were staring into their laps or muttering under their breath. He knew that his words had struck a nerve. These people had been beaten down their whole lives, forced into a system where they had zero power and told over and over again that their survival depended on their willingness to comply with that system.
Turning on his heel, Jack paced a line in front of them. “A bully will tell you that it’s because of the way you dress,” he said. “Or because you use big words. But you can change those things about yourself, and they’re still gonna beat you down. No matter how many concessions you make, they are never going to stop tormenting you.
“Because it’s not about you. It’s about them. They want a system where they’re at the top and someone else is at the bottom. And the only way people know they’re at the bottom is if you constantly remind them through pointless cruelty.”
He looked to Kez, surprised to find that he had her undivided attention. Maybe he was finally getting through to her. To all of them. “Kez, you’re beautiful,” he said.
“Um…Thanks.”
“And so is Anna and Teryl. And while I’m not very good at rating the males of the species, I’m fairly certain that Voran over there can induce some serious swoonage in those of that persuasion. Beauty comes in a million different forms. I want to make that clear before I ask you a very difficult question.”
Kez was breathing hard. “Go ahead.”
“Do you really think your weight is the issue? Do you think that’s the reason why Ms. Loveli calls you Fatty? You could lose thirty pounds, and she would just come up with some other horrible nickname. Because your weight isn’t the point. ‘Let’s make Kezia hate herself so that she thinks she deserves this shabby treatment:’ that’s the point. That’s the reason she does it.”
Clenching his teeth, Jack winced and trembled as he sucked in a breath. “People always tell me that we can’t fight back,” he growled. “‘What do you expect us to do, Jack? They’ll beat us up. Or they’ll take our badges away. Or they’ll throw us in jail.’ You think I don’t get that?
“Dude, I’ve been living with bullies since I was five years old. Yes, they’re more powerful than us. Congratulations for noticing the obvious. They’re more powerful, and we should fight them anyway.”
“Why?” Voran mumbled.
“Because sometimes your only options are fight, and they’ll beat you down. Or do nothing, and they’ll beat you down anyway. And if those are the only choices, then at least fighting leaves you with a shred of dignity.”
Silence hung in the air: a silence as profound as the emptiness of space. No one knew what to say.
“Anyone who’s interested in fighting back,” Jack said. “Come find me when our shift is over.”
Telixa looked out the narrow window at the street below – a street lined with drab, gray buildings, many of which were abandoned. Or at least, that was what she had concluded when she saw the grime on some of those windows. Verjhad was like most other cities on this planet: beautiful islands floating over dilapidated buildings.
After the fiasco at Jheren Tagosta, it was reasonable to assume that the authorities would start searching for her in other high-end living quarters. Most people in the intelligence community knew the name Telixa Ethren; most knew that she had certain standards. Therefore, the most logical place to hide was a slum.
Bent forward with her hands on the windowsill, Telixa made a disgusted face. “I swore I would never come back here,” she muttered, her breath fogging up the glass. “But here I am.”
“You used to live in this city?” Arin asked.
When she turned around, she found him sitting in the plastic folding chair next to the bed. The beige walls had white smudges where the paint had peeled – the carpet had a few ugly stains – but the apartment was cheap. Even with the resources in her hidden accounts, cheap was preferable.
Leaning against the windowsill, Telixa found it hard to lift her eyes from the floor. “Not this city,” she murmured. “But one just like it. I was eighteen when I joined the Space Force.”
“Let me guess,” Arin said. “You did it to get away from places like this.”
She looked up to fix a steely gaze upon him. “Yes, actually,” she replied. “The military will accept almost anyone who is willing to serve, but if your aptitude scores are high enough, you will eventually find your way to the higher ranks.”
“How old were you when you realized you had a bright future ahead of you?”
“That revelation never came,” she admitted freely. “I always felt as if I were one mistake away from losing everything. Before the SuperGates, things were easier. We were always at war with someone, but we never understood the horror of it. Not until the conflict with Leyria.
“It’s easy to conduct a campaign when your enemy is a low-tech world with no space capability. Even so, there are still casualties. An admiral – or a general – might lose their position if those casualties are too high. The fear is always there.”
Arin nodded.
A smile cracked Telixa’s face. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I would almost think that you understand.”
Arin’s dark eyes tried to drill holes in her skull. “I worked for Grecken Slade,” he said flatly. “What do you think my life was like?”
“Fair point.”
“We should plan our next move.”
Telixa stood up, groaning as she scrubbed both hands over her face. It was way too hot in here. The air was so muggy she wanted to die. “Sadly, I have no idea what that move is.”
“You can’t think of anyone else who might be willing to listen?”
“If Baylon wouldn’t hear me out, I can’t imagine that anyone else will.”
Arin considered that for a moment. At long last, he grunted. “If we cannot proceed with the plan, then we should start searching for Jack and Anna.”
“Easier said than done,” Telixa lamented. “They could be anywhere on this planet. I checked the Gate logs, but there was no record of an outgoing trip immediately before we went through. Which means they accessed the Gate with a multi-tool.”
“What about our trip?” Arin demanded. “Will they be able to track us?”
“Not from the console on the ship. I deleted the records of our trip. But they will have heard about our daring escape from Jheren Tagosta, and I couldn’t delete the records from that Gate because its systems are monitored by the Public Transit Authority.”
“Which means they know we’re in Verjhad,” Arin muttered.
“Indeed.”
Abruptly, he stood up and marched over to the door, yanking the knob so hard Telixa was afraid it might fall off. “I should patrol the streets,” he declared. “If they have agents searching for us, we need to know about it.”
She was content to let him go; the man wasn’t exactly good company. Too terse. She had always thought so, even when they were…Best not to think about that. Not when there were so many other problems that would benefit from some serious brooding.
It had occurred to her, a few days ago, while they were searching for a place to stay, that she was nearing the end of her life. She was a woman in her mid-forties; aside from her brush with Slade’s virus, her health had been nothing short of impeccable for the last five years. Under other circumstances, she would have at least another forty years. Possibly more. But she had serious doubts about whether she would survive the next month.
If SWIS caught her, she could expect a speedy trial followed by a swift execution. That was the punishment for treason. Even so, the odds of some random agent deciding that it was better to put her down than to let her get away were fairly high. And even if she made it back to Alios…Well, she couldn’t imagine that her cute, little cottage was waiting for her.
Telixa Ethran’s time was running short.
She had to make the best of what little she had left.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Summer exclaimed.
She was sitting on a tree branch, dressed in blue jeans with embroidered flowers on each leg and a white t-shirt with frilly lace along the neckline. Her face was a composite of every woman – real and fictional – that Jack had ever looked up to, framed by waves of golden hair.
The sun shone brightly in the open sky. Birds flitted from tree to tree, chirping happily at one another. The air was cool and crisp. Jack had to give his Nassai this much credit: she knew how to create a beautiful virtual setting.
He sat on a stump with his legs curled up, hugging his knees. Pressing his lips together, he nodded as he considered it. “Well, it’s kind of our only option,” he said. “I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck on Ragnos. I don’t want to spend the rest of my time here letting people like Loveli push me around.”
Summer hopped down off the branch, landing with a thud in the dirt. “Jack, this is what the Justice Keepers were made for,” she said. “To lift up the oppressed! I think the union is a smashing idea!”
“Nice choice of adjective.”
“Thank you!”
Tossing his head back, Jack blew a long breath out through puckered lips. “I just don’t think I’m the one to convince them,” he muttered. “I don’t exactly have the best track record in that department.”
Summer cocked her head with a raised eyebrow that said he was being ridiculous. “You seemed to be doing just fine in the break room,” she countered. “And who was it that brought the Screw Ups together?”
“After a lot of resistance.”
“Which you overcame.”
Sighing morosely, Jack stood up and nodded once. “Yeah,” he said. “Fair points all around. I guess I just get wrapped up in the times when my persuasion skills were less than impressive.”
“Such as?”
Jack crossed his arms, pacing a line through the dirt with his head down. “Like that time on Antaur when I tried to convince them that the Overseers were manipulating us,” he said. “And they were like, ‘But we worship the Overseers. So, we should just go along with whatever they want.’”
Stepping in front of him, Summer put her hands on his shoulders. Her warm smile melted his anxiety away. “You’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Just speak from the heart. Now, you’d better go. They’ll be arriving soon.”
He let the vision fade, slowly becoming aware of his own body: the hard table beneath him, the feeling of his clothes against his skin, the stuffy air, the light penetrating his eyelids.
He was in a comedy club.
At least that was what it looked like. A couple dozen round, wooden tables were spread out on the floor. He sensed a stage on the wall behind him and a bar off to his left. And both were covered in dust! So were most of the tables, for that matter. He had been forced to clean one off just to sit on it.
The main entrance, on his right, was left ajar so that his coworkers could come in. He had been surprised when several people approached him at the end of his shift. Turns out some of them were willing to put up a fight. Some, but not all. Teryl and Jim had wanted to hear what he had to say. Lena and Mic as well. But Voran? That guy was all dirty looks.
