Exa2



His name was Benjamin, at least that is what the Care governesses of Mother Moore’s Happy Orphanage had called him. HE was an orphan. As far as he knew his parents had been Gal Drifts those whako screwballs who considered themselves Citizens of the Universe, preached peace and the completely ancient and outdated philosophy of pacifism; rejected order and all forms of government. Of course, love and procreation too was considered to be freely given and shared. No marriage, no bonds, and the resulting children were are a burden to the young mothers and more often than not simply abandoned.

While the United Stars of the Galaxy was an enormous and perhaps the richest multicultural society in the known history of the Galaxy and its citizens no longer knew poverty, hunger or petty crime; Citizenship was not free and had to be earned and could be lost.

In order for a Non-Citizen orphan kid to earn its citizenship, it had to be in an Orphanage and go to Union School (or get adopted of course). There was only one federal approved Orphanage in this sector of space and that was Mother Moore’s; with branches all across the Upward Sector of this Galaxy. Operated by the Moore Humane Services Inc. ,a tightly controlled and privately held company that also provided Maximum Security facilities to planetary governments for their Non-Union Crime Convicts and penal labor camps like this Dust Mining Camp.

Benjamin wearing the cumbersome protective suit and the low grav wide field boots of a dust miner dragging the mining hose behind him underneath Gigaball, the depressingly large and almost sky filling Gas planet.

His legs ached with every step fighting the positive pressure of the suit, the heavy hose and the deep powdery dust. The other miners told him he would get used to it or die. That was almost twelve month ago, he would never get used to it. The very thought that he had to endure this another nine standard years was something he did not want to think about and yet it was never far from his mind.

This was Twilight one of the large moons in orbit around that Jovian Gas Giant called Giga Ball.

Twilight was tidally locked in its orbit around the big mother planet and did not spin on its own. This moon was almost Earth sized and had a NiOx atmosphere acceptable to many of the Nitrogen Oxygen breathers that were part of the community of sentient species that made up this oh so glorious United Stars of the Galaxies, simply known as the Union.

A strip of about 60 kilometers width and 12,200 km long follows the permanent terminator line between the eternal night and perpetual daylight. A Canyon and River system followed this terminator all around the planet like a deep trench.Conditions and climate at the bottom of these trenches was moist and agreeable to an unprotected humanoid, but on the surface it was lethal. Temperatures soared on the day side to over 25o degrees celcius while they remained perpetually cold at about minus fifty on the night side.

The strong permanent winds of storm gale force circulated in a perpetual convection pattern around this world; it had leveled much of the rocky surface and created valleys with mile deep micro dust.

Benjamin turned his head inside the unwieldy helmet and the scratched face plate to bite on the silicon feed tube for a drink of water.

The water wasn’t cold as they all wished it would be but the Camp Med said cold water would be unhealthy and the lukewarm water would be just as good to hydrate them.

Of course he was sitting in a climate controlled office back at Sun Side City and only checked on them via Remote Avatar. Benjamin was certain this son of a bitch had never been outside in in person.

His helmet radio crackled and the rough voice of Gang boss Arvid barked loud into his ears. “Get your ass to the left and start sucking that glimmer patch.”

Benjamin stemmed his weight against the hose reel automatic and forced the thirty centimeter diameter metal reinforced flexi-plast hose attached to his sucker head to unreel and follow him as he waded through the powdery light brown dust towards a barely visible glimmer patch. Metallic shining dust spots indicated a higher metal content and that of course was the reason he and the sixty men of Camp 43 were out here at the most eastern shores of Talcum Lake.

The big automated hover platforms behind them slowly floated behind them holding the Dyson Cyclon Dust Pumps and looked like nightmarish bloated octopus floating in a foggy cloud of billowing dust with long thin tentacles stretching out to sixty tiny figures slowly moving forward. Like a geyser the worthless dust was blown in a wide stream back into the landscape, while a steady stream of 500 kilo metal cubes left the other side on a conveyor, made of the metals and useful minerals separated and ultra-compacted into easy stackable and shippable cubes.

Another gang of men with load handler suits stacked the cubes onto the cargo beds of rugged flyers.

To him it was senseless primitive. Robots could have done all this tireless, around the clock and with much bigger machines as Noire Mining used over at Lake Pixie.

Of course using convicts was much cheaper, not to mention that the government paid 60 Credits every day for every convict used. That was an extra income for smaller mining outfits, since they hardly spend more than five credits on them per week.

The wide round nozzle of his sucker took duck into the dust and created a little temporary funnel crater. It was mindless terrifyingly boring work in a terrifyingly boring landscape. There weren’t any real dangers. The suits were ancient and cumbersome. Cheapest surplus equipment not meant for compfort but it was Federally inspected and had to pass basic safety standards. The Health and Saefty inspectors were the only entity feared by the Mining managers and Gang bosses. Death came in only two ways, by suicide or murder. That most of the men dreamt od suicide was maybe a good indication of the conditions. Suicide was not as easy as one would have thought. The three timed cursed Justice Department had four Med bots at each camp. These  machines had no sense, no mercy and there was nothing the miners had to damage one of these machines.

Unless you managed to kill yourselves completley and very fast, they would rush in and save your live. That they never missed anyone, each of the convicts had a health monitor chip glued to their skulls.

Only a week ago, Lurun, a Thauran could no longer take it and managed to open the seals of his suit by scrubbing them against an Octo pumper. He of course was exposed to the 350 degrees of blistering heat and hard radiation. He screamed in pain and the robots were there, he was cooked alive and radiation burned but he was alive.

Oly two days later they shipped Lurun to Elysium, to change his mind.

Officially he was sent to Elysium, Moore Corporation's Inmate Sanatorium to be treated for his depression and his suicidal tentencies but they would perform a complete Ego Exchange on him. Psycho Surgery of the most complete and most controversial and frightening kind.

Lurun would not remember his name, his favorite food or even his own mother. With a set of new memories and a new society conform personality he would then be paroled and receive the opportunity to work and live a productive life.

Benjamin had thought about suicide himself, many times since he had been arrested twelve month ago. This was not a rock mine with sharp tools and big machines on heavy tracks. They were stuck all day long in these Syntho-Rubber Silicone- metal reinforced protection suits that could only be opened inside the Changing rooms and not by themselves but by suit openers. Their only tool they had were these sucking pipes and hoses. Not big or heavy enough to damage the suits or the helmets.

During their rest period they showered supervised, ate supervised and slept supervised. They ate from plastic trays and used plastic spoons and knives and had to wear Inmate plastic suits that were comfortable, transparent and virtually indestructible. Whatever wound you could create with a  plastic knife was not life threatenting, the suit covered most of the body and robots were to damn fast.

There was very little in terms of recreation and it too was supervised.

Benjamin moved the sucking pipe across the glimmer patch as the Gang boss wanted. He hated that pompous Pan Saranian bastard but it was him who had the say who got one of the few PDDs loaded with magazines, porn of any kind and movies. Six of the PDDs were even GalNet enabled to watchthey e news, new movies and listen to music.

The men fought for a chance to get one for the sixty minutes PDD privilege and did whatever the Gang boss asked them to do.

Before he received his sentence of 10 standard years of hard labor, he was a Port Roach, beloning to one of the Kid and Teenage gangs that roamed the Port and the City.

Gal Drifts and Non Cits were a laughable small group living on the very fringes of Union Society, but they existed on many of the Union Traffic Hubs where they could “stow” and “showwl” to another planet.

His mother had abandoned him right here on Twilight where he was found in one of the Scrub and Soak shower facilities and brought to Mother Moore's Happy Orphanage of which there was one in Termi Town, 500 miles up Canyon in the Terminator Strip.

He ran away like so many others did as Mother Moore's was anything but happy.

It was a business and they got paid from the Social Services Council of the Assemby. Every Non Cit  Kid they raised and turned into a Union Citizen made them good money. The more difficult and hard to educate a child was the more money they could charge, and so “running away” was very easy. The Runaways would find themselves in the big City or at the Port without means to really esacpe and without food or a place to go. So they join one of the Kid gangs and steal and live of petty crimes until they get caught and sent back to Mother Moore;s as a “Runaway with a criminal record.”  This of course meant Mother Moore could charge much more money.

Someone tucked at his hose. He turned and saw Mocam waving at him. At last it was quitting time. He actually was looking forward to the showers and the sloppy food. Maybe he sucked enough glitter to get a turn on the GalNet enabled PDD's, if not there was always his bunk, and nothing in his current situation was more welcome than to simply stretch out and sleep.

The work gang climbed onto the bed of a freight skimmer and sat down.

Sixty, mostly humanoid convicts looking almost like dust covered brownish Nul in their bulky suits and bubble helmets  easily found room on the big freight bed as it was speeding towards the Mining camp.

The camp was not much more than a collection of stacked prefab buildings thirty kilometers outside of Sunside City.

The Foreman opened the helmet radios and the men could talk or listen to Local Radio. During the work day the helmet speakers played so called Alpha Wave music. After a while you didn't really hear it but it was designed to keep agression and stress down.

Not that he ever had any real education, he knew it somehow messed with your mind, but then the Union was so damn efficient in everything. Even how they managed their prisoners.

To Benjamin it made no difference that the corporation was a private organization hired by the local authorities and not a Union or federal institution. He was a Non-Cit and everything run, owned, managed or otherwise associated with Union Citizens was “them” and he he hated them!

--””--

The woman rushing into the front offices of Mother Moore's Happy Orphanage had a flair of self importance as she approached the chest high counter. She wore Terran style sun glasses and had her auburn hair coiffed in a complicated updo massing it above her right ear, a shimmering veil of Archa silk slung from it, caressing her cheeks and slung underneath her chin to an Iridium Ear cover  on the other side. Her dress was of the latest Europa Moon fashion, assymetric and impossible but because most of it was a clever holo-projection and the rest held by micro grav units, giving the illusion she was dressed in a cloud of pink smoke that wafted opaque over those areas that needed to be covered, but the Agrynian Fur coat was quite real. The Pertharian hunters who risked life and limb to hunt the Agryn, charged astronomical sums for the belly fur of these beasts. The coat that was held around her by Arti Grav micro units, was made of at least four belly furs. The Governess behind the counter who knew a little about fashion estimated it would take her entire life's salary to buy one like it was deeply impressed.

The rich woman was not alone, she was accompanied by an Oromal body guard and a tall Andorian who appeared to serve as her personal assistant.

The Governess behind the stone and stainless steel counter wore like all employees of MMHO a long black skirt and a white blouse and she greeted the woman saying. “Welcome to Mother Moore's Happy Orphanage – Twilight Branch, what can I do for you?”

The woman said. “ I am looking for a girl, she should be about 13 to 14 years old. Her name is Exa Noire.”

The Governess smelled the expensive perfume and wondered what brand a rich woman like that would wear. The rich woman's voice had a demanding tone of a person who was giving orders all her life. The Orphanage Computronic immidiateley supplied her with three possible girls and displayed the data onto her field screen that was invisible from the point of view of the rich woman and the Governess said. “I am sorry, by law I am not allowed to share such information, unless you are next of kin and identified as such. If you look to adopt you can of course pick a new name.”

The woman did as if she didn't hear the response and gestured with her hand and the tall Andorian projected a three dee image of a young girl from his PDD and the rich woman pointed her gloved hands to the image. “This is a computronic generated image as we think she looks now. I come to understand that the local authorities bring the abandoned children here.” “I still can't give you any such information. It is against the law and our company policy.” The Andorian placed a black Credit Box on the counter and the display showed it was loaded with 10,000 Credits.

The rich woman who had not said her name. “Do you think I would come here on my own if this is not of the utmost importance that I find this girl, now have you seen her?” The Governess could not keep her eyes of the Credit box and said. “It is tempting indeed and I would love to help you, but...”

“I do not haggle and I always get what I want. I am in a great hurry.” The Governess supervisor came in. He too was dressed exactly the same way, except that he wore a little golden pin with the word Assistant Head Governess and he said. “I just received a call from head quarters and we are to assist Ms DeNoir in any way we can.”

The rich woman did not acknowledged the portly bearded man in the black skirt and white blouse but patted the counter with her hand. “Now!”

The Governess said. “We have three girls that go by the name Exa. None of our kids have last names and we usually randomly give them new ones. Only one of the Exa girs is currently here at the orphanage, the other two are listed as runaways.”

“Bring the one you have!” the Rich woman commanded.

It didn't take long and a X101 and a Quadi-Ped, they too wearing the Happy Mother Moore Uniform came with a human girl in their midst.

The Andorian used his PDD and scanned the girl and then shook his head. “Sorry Mistress, she is no match.”

Without even talking to the girl with the sad eyes the rich woman said. “The other two where are they?”

The Governess had heard the name DeNoir. De Noir was also the name of one of the real big Giga Corps with power and wealth unimaginable and she answered. “We are certain one of them is either in Termi Town or at the Space Port. We think the other one is dead as we have not heard from her in a long while. Usually the Police brings them back. One of them has only run away a few weeks ago, the other is gone for over a year now.”

The rich woman turned and left without a further word followed by her entourage. The credit box remained on the counter.

The governess eyeing it and then she said to her supervisor. “I wonder what this was all about?”

He shrugged and he too looked at the box. “I don't know but Mother Moore herself had called and told me to give her all she asks for.”

The two were still talking as more visitors came.

This time it was a well dressed man, wearing a long coat and a green turban as it was currently fashion for human males and he said with a suave smile. “ I just saw Smara DeNoir coming out of here. What did my sister want?”

Fresh and liquid water existed at the terminator and developed indigenous plant life. No mobile or fauna life forms have been discovered so far. Twilight was settled by colonists from many different regions and no particular dominant culture about 1500 years ago.

Most cities and settlements are located on or under the Terminator strip but there is a Sunside city and a Nightside city. It is noteworthy to mention that the Day Siders do not like the Night Siders and vice versa and both sides consider the Termis snobs and weaklings. A short but violent war had been fought about 300 years ago between the two cities inconclusive and the Termis called for Union Intervention. [1] Twilight also is a Traffic Hub to the other occupied moons and planets in the system. Some of the Tourist attractions are: Dust skimming, White water boating and a large Amusement Park.

The sun shone brilliantly over the seemingly endless ice desert, it still was bitter cold but the sun was getting stronger every day and Shortsummer was not very far off. Winds howled with storm gale strength churned by warm rays of the sun, whipping snow and ice crystals across the frozen planes pelting people,machines and animals alike.

Exa sat on top of a rugged ice tractor with very wide soft tracks towing a chain of boat-like skids loaded with Fangsnapper cages,food, fur bales and big boxes with meat and bones.

It was a long trip of six days from the edges of the ice free Uhim grounds to Isen Landsby, and normally the trip could be done by flyer or Skid boat but the easiest way transport the wild, barley domesticated Fangsnappers was to herd them from the feeding grounds to the pens and dens around Isen.

While the Olafson clan was realive new to this business, the Ragnarsson Clan and Steiner Clans were doing it for a very long time. Both clans merged with the Olafson Clan a little over five years ago and Fangsnappers became the main source of income for the largest and richest clan on Nilfeheim.

Her tractor had just climbed a very soft incline and she could see the almost 2000 animals slidinga

Mr. Flensburger was a little late as usual. He came into the classroom dressed like a Harpooner in the middle of Long night. He wore a heavy hooded Fangsnapper fur coat, over a padded Iso-Tex Jacket and beneath the hood a heated wind mask, but that was far from all, underneath all that a Fleet Issue extreme suit with active heating. He was dressed like that despite the fact it was almost spring and he had to walk less than 1500 meters in the open. It was only ten below zero and light wind. Bare chest weather my Uncle Hogun would say. It would take him long moments to get undressed and I was certain the pile of clothing next to his desk grew just a little bigger every day. “It is exceptionally cold this morning, class," he greeted us and twenty two Neo-Vikings would say:”Good morning Mr. Flensburger.” I couldn’t help myself and said, "You have been on Nilfeheim now for over thirty years, Mr. Flensburger. Haven’t you gotten used to our weather by now?”. He took off his cold mask, revealing his slate ice gray eyes and his long pointed nose and looked at me, then shook his head. "Mr. Olafson, it took me all this time to get used to the barbaric customs of you Neo Vikings. I had no time to get used to the weather yet.” That caused the class to laugh. He walked to the windows and looked over the churning waves of the ocean. "It is a beautiful planet. It has lots of cold water, teaming with an abundance of life, blue oceans and very, very long winters. I come from New Algiers, no open water. Deserts as far as you can see. You have winds bringing ice crystals, snow and rain. Our storms bring dust, lots of it, but the temperature never drops below 30 and is usually at 48." I tried to imagine how it would be, to live in bread oven conditions like that. I glanced at my I-Board and checked on New Algiers. Our teacher turned to face the class. "It is your final year and some of you might actually leave this world and it will also be my last school year. Thirty years teaching you Neo Vikings about the rest of the Universe was a challenge to say the least.” His eyes became dreamy and he smiled.” First I am going to Para-Para and simply sit on the beach for maybe a year or so. I believe it will take at least that long for my bones to thaw.” Leif Swenkjard sitting across the aisle from me waved his hand.”I’ve been to Para-Para actually. When my Father had to go there for an ocean produce tradeshow he took me along. They don’t even have a little snow anywhere and their largest fish is about the size of a Surface Finner. On Para-Para there are no weapons allowed, if you use your fist to make an argument stick you get in trouble and arrested. No one wears much clothing and all they do is smile all the time.” Ygral Anders next to him drew the outlines of a woman into the air.”How about the girls, do they wear little?” “You could bunch up what they wear in your fist and nothing showing.” Ygral now grinned from one ear to the other.”I think I go there for a visit too!” “You wouldn’t like it. Because the guys don’t wear much either and you barely see any blonde tall girls with braids anywhere. Those girls can’t cook a decent meal, won’t clean up after you and want to be equal to men and sit at the same table!” Flensburger shook his head putting his right hand before his eyes.”You are hopeless.” Then he sat down on the edge of his desk and he stared at me.”You look different today, Eric. What are you wearing on your