Chapter 6

Life for the past year had been quiet. We worked, we slept, we ate. During that year, Martha and I grew closer. We had similar backgrounds, interests, and ambitions.

We decided early on that we needed to better our positions. The best way to do this was through training. Martha agreed with me and started working on getting her food handlers license. This was a fairly easy certification and didn’t pay much more than what she was already earning, but it was also a stepping stone to other certifications.

In one of our quiet moments, she confided to me that her ambition was to get her nursing certification. But as usual, the higher-end certificates cost more, and the best way to get there was in the food services areas.

Myself, I aimed towards getting my pilot’s license. This was a very long and expensive process. First, I needed to get my ground school certifications. Then airframe and powerplant. Then there were flight operations. This is where things got really expensive.

Before I even saw a real pilot, I needed to pass the simulations section. This required expensive computer time. Once that was done, I would have to find a real, training-certified pilot to take me on as a student. The cost for this was astronomical. Ship rental, fuel, Pilots pay, etc.

Eventually, I would solo and could be qualified as a pilot. This would give me a 5-figure bonus and quadruple my base pay.

But that day was a long way into the future.

Martha passed her food handlers test on the same day I passed my ground school test. Martha received a 5-credit bonus and a half-credit increase in her pay. I got a 10-credit bonus and a one-credit increase. Between the two of us, we were in good spirits and decided that a little celebration was in order.

When we got to the canteen, it was crowded. This wasn’t unusual, but there was an undercurrent of tension and hostility in the air. There was a lot of talking but very little laughing.

In the corner were the usual musicians. A group of people had fashioned some instruments. Pipes and fiddles were predominant. The music was about the only thing that was upbeat.

Martha ordered us a beer that we would split. As we talked, mainly about our plans, I noticed two of the guys Peter had warned me about. They were sitting near the stage at the front of the room. They had glasses in front of them, which they seemed to ignore. Frequently, individuals stepped up to them, spoke for a moment, and then walked away.

Martha, being unused to beer, was getting a little happy and ordered us a pitcher. I offered to buy something to eat, but she declined. As the level on that pitcher went down, the tension in the room climbed, and Martha got drunker.

Finally, I decided that I needed to end the celebration. Martha was all but passed out. I helped her to stand, and we started to leave.

As we approached the door, a muscular guy was blocking the doorway. “Hey Mate, where ya headed? The nights still young?”

“Well, the lady has had a bit too much. It’s time I took her back home and put her to bed.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Best you did just that. But then you should come back. Shaun Fitzpatrick is going to be speaking later. He’s always good for a glass or two. He’ll also be talking some truth that everyone needs to hear.”

Once I got Martha back to our barracks, and into bed, I went back to the canteen. When I got there, I arrived just in time to see Shaun Fitzpatrick take the stage. As I thought, this was the guy that Peter had warned me about.

When he started talking, his voice was calm and low. You could barely hear him. The crowd quieted down, and he could be heard a little better.

As he went on, his voice gradually got louder and angrier. He talked about the conditions in the tunnels. About the hours we worked. About the dangers, we faced daily.

Then, subtly, he started talking about the Company. Mainly about the bosses. He focused mainly on the owners and administrators on Mars and Earth, making tons of money and living luxurious lifestyles.

Then, as if offering proof, he pointed out the living conditions of the local bosses and supervisors. How they, too, were profiting on the backs of us, the workers.

While all of this was being said, his voice got louder and more strident. His gestures and body language got frenzied and violent.

The crowd, at first, had been quietly listening. Some were nodding their heads in agreement, and there were scattered mumblings of agreement. This gradually changed, getting louder and angrier.

Even I, knowing that the crowd was being manipulated, starting to get madder. It was when the first bottle was smashed that broke the spell for me. Stunned, I looked around and realized that we were in a near riot. That was when I headed to the door. One of Shaun’s muscle boys blocked my way.

“Where ya goin mac? Shaun ain’t done yet.”

I replied, “I’m feeling sick brother, I think I’m gonna puke.” As proof, I started gagging, held my hand in front of my mouth and aimed at my roadblock.