Cobalt Slave Read online

  COBALT SLAVE

  JON WALKER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Stephanie Condon

  Cover by Dana Lambert

  “Cobalt Slave” copyright © Jon Walker, 2016

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  I want to thank my dad for instilling me with a lifelong love of science fiction. I’d also like to thank Dana Lambert for creating an amazing cover and my future wife, Stephanie, for her tireless editing.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Year of Landing 13 - The end of the Jasontown Rebellion

  Despite the advanced stage of their shared illness, most of the villagers make it to the square to await Paul’s return. Only those too sick to move dare miss the return of their possible savior.

  When his bike finally emerges in the distance the crowd fills with hopeful whispers, yet as he slowly approaches they see his dejected body, his sunken face. He wears his defeat plainly for all to see. A wave of despair and resignation spreads over the crowd as the villagers, one by one, get a better look at him. Everyone remains quiet, though, still clinging to hope. No one wants to say what they are all thinking.

  With the setting sun to his back Paul finally reaches the edge of the paved square, and for a long moment there is near total silence. The streetlights which circle the small plaza automatically come on right before Paul dismounts his bike. Their glow gives everyone a better view of Paul, and the clean, white light makes it clear to Paul how sick they have all become. Most are using canes or crutches because of their trouble standing.

  The villagers' desperate eyes focus on Paul, but he keeps his gaze on the ground. He can’t face them. He has failed them. These are his friends and family dying a slow, painful death. They are all extremely pale and weak. Many are extremely emaciated, covered in bruises, or slowly bleeding from small wounds that refuse to heal. Most have a sickly yellow tinge to their skin, a sign of organ failure. The sight of them is even worse for Paul because each and every one provides a glimpse into his own future, his own death. While he is still healthy, he knows he will not remain that way for long. Long ago he was chosen to be given the last of their reserves so he would keep his wits and strength to serve as their negotiator and spokesman, but the reserves are now gone.

  Finally, the mayor steps forward to break the silence, “Did they accept our surrender? Did you get the pills?”

  Still looking down Paul answers, “No… They said we knew the rules, and we made our choice.”

  The small settlement's lone Methodist preacher interrupts Paul, his words weak and flustered. A mixture of anger, despair and disbelief makes it hard for the preacher to control his voice. “How could they say no? We offered complete and total surrender. We... We gave up everything, all our demands. Are they at least not afraid of making martyrs of us?"

  Paul finally looks up, interrupting the pastor. There are tears in his eyes. “No, they want us to be an example. They let me go personally before Director Parker. I offered the new Director everything. I apologized for our arrogance. I even got down on my knees to beg him for mercy. After I finished begging, he looked directly at me and told me that we were being used to send a message. They do not negotiate. They do not tolerate games. Everyone either complies, or they are cut off.”

  “Right as he was having me dragged off, he even had the gall to tell me that if I had any vision I would understand that this is true mercy. He said this is what humanity needs. He said in the long run, one strong example would prevent much more needless suffering than a show of weakness. He wants us to die.”

  The whole town is stunned into silence for a few seconds before quickly losing all cohesion. Many break down sobbing. Others yell and curse the Director, though they are too weak to keep their tirades up for long. Several gather around the preacher to pray. Most, though, just turn to head home. They are too tired to do anything else.

  It was a total defeat after a standoff that had dragged on for almost two years. The village had always assumed the Director would never be heartless enough carry through with his plan. Even as other villages submitted to him they thought they would break him. They had played a game of chicken, and they had lost.

  For a while Paul uses his extra strength to try to help the worst off and bury the dead. For the first three months he spends hours giving the victims the dignity of individual graves. After that things start to snowball, with the townspeople who could once help steadily joining the ranks of those who needed help. Simply keeping everyone fed and clean becomes impossible. By the fourth month, Paul switches to using a long trench as a grave. Slowly and steadily he begins to succumb to the same deficiency. His mind and body start to give out. He finds it difficult to walk, and his mind constantly plays tricks on him. After several months he no longer has the physical strength or will to be the dead that buries the dead.

  Paul thinks about lighting the whole village on fire -- giving everyone remaining a quicker death. It would at least deny the Director of anything useful he was planning on pillaging from their homes, or an empty village he could turn into a macabre monument to his power. The idea is quickly abandoned when he realizes the buildings are well designed not to burn. Paul lacks the skills for destruction and the strength to simply smash everything by hand. And as much as he is filled with bottomless hate for the Director, he knows the rest of the colony will need their tools.

  For a while Paul entertains the idea of going to other settlements to beg for help or trade. Others from his village have tried, and all have been turned away by people fearing their communities would be subject to the same fate if they provided any assistance. With so few left, Paul secretly hopes he might have better luck, but he quickly abandons this fantasy. He knows it is hopeless and risks just spreading this misery.

  Instead, Paul uses the last of his energy to start walking toward the forest. He has no destination or goal in mind but to simply head as far away from this place as he can. Dying anywhere else will be better than in the ghost town which was once his home.

  Paul hopes that out in the wilderness his soul won’t be haunted by all those he failed.

  CHAPTER 2

  The 17th Landing Day - five years since the beginning of the Jasontown Rebellion

  A stream of a thousand colorful glowing paper balloons float upward from spots all over the valley and steadily disappear in the dark sky. Each contains a small candle to give it both its lift and illumination. New Eden has only two small moons, Cain and Abel, that provide very little reflected light, even when they are high in the sky. Abel is the lesser twin, which is slowly being made even smaller as it is stripped by the automated mining machines brought from the solar system, but its orbit is closer to the planet, making it appear roughly the same size as Cain. So
besides the streetlamps below, the balloons are all that truly cut through the darkness. Each one floats upward and is carried away on a steady eastward wind until it becomes just another pinprick of light on the blanket of blackness, a temporary star that dances and disappears.

  Holding a drink, Anthony Parker watches the scene alone from the balcony of the Public Health Department’s Hospital, Research, and Residence complex. Anthony is technically the second head of the Department of Public Health for New Eden but the first one who is referred to simply as "the Director" with a capital D. He is middle aged with dark brown hair but sports just a hint of grey at his temples, purposely left undyed to give him an air of maturity. His face is not overly handsome but is pleasantly symmetrical, making him seem naturally confident.

  This set of Public Health Department buildings dominates the highest point in the city of Ararat. The people living in the tiny city below have taken to calling it the palace as a result, but only when they are sure no one from the Public Health Department is within earshot. It was a turbulent first few years after Anthony seized control of the Public Health Department, and it took a long time to bring the whole world to heel, but the size and scope of this particular Landing Day celebration is designed to be proof of stability.

  Cathlyn Brown takes a place beside Director Parker on the balcony to watch the light show. Tonight she is in a classic, old world evening gown instead of her standard Public Health Department uniform. She was among Anthony's first supporters and remains one of the few people who can comfortably speak openly with the most powerful human on the planet. She tries to get his attention. “They are beautiful, aren’t they? It was a great idea that some farmer came up with.” She gets only a grunt in response as Parker continues to stare off into the night.

  Trying again, Cathlyn says, “You know, between just you and me, I wish we had fireworks instead, but I get it. Letting people make explosives and rockets probably isn't a good idea.”

  Again Director Parker barely responds, giving her only a quiet, “Yeah.”

  Finally Cathlyn grabs his elbow to pull him close. “What are you staring at? What are you thinking? This is supposed to be a celebration, Parker. The people inside are all looking at you and starting to get concerned. This is how rumors start. Rumors then turn into problems.”

  Director Parker turns to look at his confidant. “It isn’t beautiful, Cath. It is terrifying,” he says while tilting his head to point to the valley. “Every tiny lantern is a house or a family. Tonight I can truly see all that we are from up here, and it isn’t much. A few settlements in one valley on one small island. For all we know, this is all that is left. We can’t afford any mistakes. Just one, and it could all be over. We need to start thinking bigger. It is...”

  Cathlyn squeezes his arm to stop him and pulls him slightly closer. “I know, Parker. I understand even if others don’t. That is why I first followed you, that is why I continue to follow you. That is why we can’t lose sight of what is important. Tonight what matters is appearances. We need to be strong to make this work, so how about we get back inside?”

  Director Parker gives her his charismatic smile. That smile helped win him this world, but it isn’t what it used to be. In the wrinkles that have developed around his eyes she can see the hints of something else. His eyes used to exude a confidence and burning determination that could silence critics with just a look. Now, she can see his worry and concern leaking through. It has been getting worse for weeks, which has in turn made Cathlyn concerned in her own way.

  Director Parker indicates with his hand for her to lead the way. Together they rejoin what is by far the fanciest Landing Day party on the planet.

  CHAPTER 3

  Year of Landing 124 - 112 years since the beginning of the Jasontown rebellion

  One single chubby, bored guard armed with only a stunstick, methodically picking his nose. That is what David stares at as he rides up to the health center outpost. This slob is a perfect target for his festering, low level anger. David can’t decide if he is more upset about how fat and lazy this guard has gotten off the work of others, or the fact that the Public Health Department knows they don’t even need to bother with competent guards.

  After a long moment of self examination followed by a study of the recently acquired booger, the guard finally flicks away his prize and begins looking around. David quickly but discreetly averts his eyes; he is not here to draw attention. Knowing how to not draw attention is something everyone in his position learns early on.

  The local health center is part medical clinic, part warehouse, part administrative building, part police station. It is a shiny, crisp white collection of buildings built with advanced materials not readily available to regular people.

  At the gate to the health center entrance, David is waved to stop by the auditor -- a woman who looks to be in her mid 40’s but with skin that indicates she hasn’t done a day of physical labor in her life. Her hair and uniform are simple but immaculate, which makes her stand out among the farmers and farmhands. She only looks up from her work tablet when it is absolutely necessary.

  After some aggressive pulling and prodding, David finally gets his pair of shaggy and ill-tempered dernbeasts to yield. For over a century, the people of New Eden have tried to domesticate parts of the local fauna, but so far the project has only been partially successful. It will take at least a few more generations to breed out their surliness and make them like humans, instead of merely tolerating them.

  While David wrestles with his animals, the auditor gives his load of vegetables a preliminary scan. She makes a tisking sound of disapproval while marking something on her tablet. “Mr. Corvus, this is not good. You are aware the levy is 18 percent, and this appears to be only 15 percent.” She says all of this without looking up.

  Confused and trying his best to keep his voice calm, David answers, “Sorry ma'am, but last I was informed the levy was 15 percent.”

  The auditor, still working on the tablet, responds emotionlessly, “It was raised.”

  David, “Yes, I know -- from 13 percent to 15 last month.”

  The auditor's previously mechanical tone adopts a hint of annoyance, “It was also raised again on Tuesday after the survey and analysis indicated better than projected yields. The system clearly shows you were sent a message on your net connection.”

  David stumbles over his words as he struggles to respond, “That is in… I’ve. We all have… I already had...”

  Hearing the anger and borderline insolence in his voice, the auditor finally takes her focus off of the tablet. She stares directly at this simple farmer standing before her and gives him her well-honed, one-eyebrow-raised look which wordlessly communicates the threat: this is starting to sound dangerously close to negotiating.

  Seeing her stare, David stops immediately as his pulse starts to race and his hands grow clammy. He takes a well practiced, calming deep breath and lowers his head slightly. Nothing good can come from trying to argue. They have all the vitamin B-12, everyone needs B-12 to live, so they get to make the rules.

  He starts again in a much slower and more methodical tone, “Sorry, as you know it is harvest time. I’m out working all day and night. I was too busy to check my screen.”

  The auditor gives him a small hint of a smile, indicating that she is happy with the change in the direction of their conversation, and tilts her head to signal that now it is time for him to reach the right conclusion.

  David breathes a small sigh of relief when he notices this change in her face and adds, “I can go get the remaining, but I must warn you it is over an hour ride home and over an hour back, so by that time…”

  She gives him a quick satisfied smile and chin raise before turning back to the tablet, “Oh, that will not be necessary, Mr. Corvus. The Public Health Department knows the needs of the people, and this seems to be a perfectly understandable miscommunication. I will just mark this down in our records, and you can bring the remainder of your levy next we
ek when your family comes by for the bimonthly plasma check.”

  Hands buried in his pockets, eyes darting down to the ground, David answers meekly, “Thank you. That will be fine.”

  Already sliding back into the bored drone that comes from repeating something thousands of times a day, the auditor reaches into the large set of security drawers by her to pull out a few small cases. “Now that that is taken care of, let me get you on your way.”

  First she hands him five vials, each with the name of one of his family members. “Please vocally confirm for the system that you have received the five weekly essential vitamin packets for your family.” David simply answers, “Yes. I have received them.”

  Unexpectedly, the auditor then hands him another packet with the name of his son, Robert. “The school reported your son was suffering from a cough.”

  David answers, “It is only a small cough, he will be fine.”

  The auditor continues, “Left alone, he won’t be. Samples were taken, and it was determined he's suffering from a potentially very serious case of green fire, but this targeted, four-day treatment will take care of everything.”

  David looks at her to give her a genuine, “Thank you.”

  The auditor's response indicates it is time to move on, “There is no need for thanks. It is the job of the Directorate to look out for the welfare of everyone in New Eden.”

  After his cart is unloaded, David starts the long ride back home. He plays with the medicine vial in his pocket and is filled with conflicting emotions. He knows this act of benevolence is what his father called the velvet glove on the cobalt fist. While they threaten to cut off your life at one moment, they share their amazing cures at the next. David knows all the reasons he should hate them, but for a moment it feels hard to hate the people who just saved your son from a horrible death.