Joanna Wylde: The Price of Freedom

Bastards, she thought. Moisture welled up in her eye, but she forced the tears back. She couldn’t afford to show any weakness. She had to be as hard as a rock if she was going to survive.

Jess woke the next morning a few minutes before the bell rang, every muscle in his body tense. He always woke up like this, ready for a fight. His first sleep cycle in the barracks had been ugly—two men had tried to jump him. Since then he had slept lightly. The last three months had taught him a lot about protecting himself from all kinds of attacks.

Rolling out of his bunk, he moved quickly toward the back wall, where a fresher unit designed to serve ten men at a time was installed. His bunk-mate, Logan, was already there. He nodded silently in greeting. A tall, quiet man, Logan rarely spoke to Jess—but they shared a certain respect. Jess got the feeling Logan would cover his back if needed, and tried to return the favor whenever possible. Both of them slept better for their shared vigilance, and occasionally they discussed escape. So far they hadn't come up with anything that seemed likely to succeed.

Jess relieved himself, then looked longingly at the sonic showers. Each man was allowed five minutes a day, and he had long since learned to save his time for after his return from the mines at the end of the shift. He never really felt clean, but he knew they were lucky to have the showers at all. Apparently the smell of a hundred unwashed men was enough to overwhelm the settlement’s air filter system, so the Pilgrims had put in the units to control the stench.

Rinsing out his mouth, Jess strode back into the barracks. At the other end of the long room were several long tables, formed of plast-crete and bolted directly into the floor. The men were already starting to form lines in anticipation of their breakfast. The door opened; two guards walked into the room. They held their control wands before them, evil sticks with the power to kill any of the slaves instantly. Jess looked at them with hatred, but the guards didn’t pay any more attention to the men before them than they would pay to animals.

The food cart came in with a rattling noise. They could always hear it coming; one of the wheels was loose. It was pushed by a woman; heavily draped as usual. But it wasn’t just any woman, it was the woman he’d seen before. The one he’d dreamt of every night. His senses tingled as she approached. She walked slowly, carefully keeping her eyes pointed directly ahead. All around her the men watched with hungry eyes. They lusted for both the food and the body hidden under the folds of her clothing. His stomach clenched; he didn't like them looking at her like that. Gritting his teeth, Jess walked toward her, one eye on the guards. He had to get closer.

Her face was startled, wary, as he came and took the cart. His gaze met hers, and for one glorious moment he was sinking into those cat eyes again. Then she turned away and walked quickly out of the room, leaving the men to jostle for their food. Noise broke out and the tension eased.

The guards watched in sullen silence as the slaves ate, giving them fifteen minutes to complete their meal. Jess shoveled the tepid gruel without thought, grateful for the energy it would give him. Then one of the guards—a fat one they called Sluggo behind his back—gestured with his control wand, and the men made their way through the open door.

Jess was startled to see the woman in the outer room. She was kneeling in front of the large cabinet used to store medical supplies. Beside her was Bragan, a physician who had once been a free man. Now he tended to the slaves between shifts in the mine. Bragan was occasionally excused from working in the mines, so it was not all that uncommon to see him in the outer room. The sight of him with the woman, however, startled him Jess. He’d never seen a Pilgrim woman talk to a slave before, yet these two seemed to be engrossed in conversation. She even smiled briefly at the man. Jealousy filled his heart; at that moment he could have happily smashed Bragan's skull in. His anger must have been written on his face, because Logan elbowed him, shaking his head in warning.

The guards didn’t let them linger long enough for Jess to figure out what she was doing. They moved quickly through the room to a large staging area. Along one wall were lockers containing the pressure suits they wore to work the mines. Along the other wall—securely locked—were the lockers holding pressure suits and equipment used by the Pilgrims. Jess had never seen those lockers open.

Each man shrugged silently into his own suit. Then he and Logan took turns checking each other’s suits to make sure they were sealed properly. A suit failure could mean death. Jess tried to have two different men check his—the week before one of the slaves had actually sabotaged another man’s suit, killing him. None of them knew why he had done it, although Jess and Logan had been among those who had “questioned” him. Shortly afterwards he had perished in a mining accident. Justice among the slaves was swift and unforgiving.

Within minutes the men were suited. Under the watchful eyes of their guards, the line of workers trouped out the far end of the staging area. In groups of ten, they passed through an airlock and into the mouth of the mine. The walls gave way to rock, and the floor sloped noticeably as the tunnel went down into the asteroid’s surface. They arrived at an elevator, and once again entered in groups of ten.

Jess waited his turn silently, gazing at the rusty, ancient elevator apparatus. Soon he would enter the metal box, which would carry him deep into the mine’s depths. His partner, a young man name Trent, stood next to him quietly. Jess could hear his heavy breathing through the two-way radio they shared—their only way to communicate the entire time they were underground. Last week the radio had gone out shortly after they started work, and Trent had a panic attack. Jess had to work twice as hard to meet their quota, while his partner sat and cried. Trent was only 19 years old, enslaved for stealing. Jess had already come to the conclusion that the kid probably wouldn’t last too long. He wished Logan was his partner but bunk-mates weren't allowed to work together.

“Come on,” he said, giving his partner a push when it was their turn to enter the elevator. “It’s not going to be that bad. We’re in one of the upper tunnels today. You can do this.”

“I know,” Trent said. He shuffled ahead of Jess, turning to face the front of the elevator with slumped shoulders. The elevator door made a screeching sound as it closed, then the car started its slow descent into the vast darkness of the mine. When they got to their stop, Jess flicked on his helmet light, and stepped out of the car. Trent followed him, then the car door slid shut with another screech and they were alone.

“Do you want to drill today, or do you want me to?” Jess asked, looking to his companion. They traded tasks off regularly, one running a powerful drill to prepare for the blasting the Pilgrims would do the next cycle while the slaves slept, while the other focused on removing the ore knocked loose from the previous cycle’s blasts. When Jess had first arrived on the station, the sounds of blasting while he tried to sleep kept him up. Now he hardly noticed…working at "night" had become normal to him.

“You can drill,” Trent said faintly. “I’ll do the ore.”

Jess nodded his agreement, then turned to the equipment they had left the day before. Picking up the heavy drill, he hefted it over his shoulder and started carrying it down the tunnel, the cords that powered it trailing behind him like a long, skinny tail. Normally he and Trent would work at the same end of the tunnel, drilling and hauling ore together. It was certainly safer that way. But they had been ordered to separate last week. Apparently their Pilgrims masters were having a disagreement over which direction they should be digging. Until they figured things out, the slaves were going both ways.