Kraken Orbital (2 page)

They sold us
all a thought of having a good life, a regular pay
check, three hot meals a day and a warm bed to
sleep in every night. I should have listened to my Dad. He warned
me about going off world and working on the mines. He has always
had that often irritating logic to him. He has foresight. Something
I admit I lack. He can figure something out for what it is long
before the reality hits. He knew they were trouble just by glancing
at them. Just by the poster!

The reality
was nothing like the dream they sold us. They treat us like crap
every day and they got away with it every time. They made me feel
stupid, made me look a jerk in front of my friends if ever I missed
a quota, and lorded it over us every chance they got. I’m not sure
where that culture came from, or how it turned what was probably
on
ce a decent little mining company into
a living nightmare. I wished so hard I had just joined the Army.
Another idea of mine that Dad put me off. But at least in the Army
I might have been able to get outside more. See some action maybe.
Save some beautiful women one day.
That must be the concussion settling in
…

Those jerks
though. They kept us cooked up onboard the rigs for months and
months at a stretch.
Only a small
cafeteria to eat in. No games room like on the poster either. No
holo-vision like they promised and one huge shared dorm. A far cry
from the luxury they sold us. The beds were barely big enough to
sleep in. Not even close to being ample enough to get a full
stretch or a good night’s sleep. But then we were expected to jump
out on command and start hoofing another million cubic ton of stone
out of a cramped mine.

I
d
on’t even want to think about the food
they served either. Nothing like the Four Star Michelin chef they
advertised. Made me sick to my stomach every damn day. Genuinely
ill.

I bet I got
all of my friends in trouble though. They m
ade us all feel like worms. The company, somewhere out
there, are probably taking what I did out on my sector. And for
that, and that alone, I’m truly sorry. I hoped to inspire rebellion
in what I did. I dared to hope some of the guys might have had the
balls to have come with me. To go it alone and keep pushing no
matter how hard the going got. We could have been the captains of
our own ship’s. We could have made it on our own or died.
Yes, died
.

But I guess
it was only me. Only I wanted out so bad.
Is that it?
I don’t think,
no I’m certain, that I wasn’t the only one feeling that badly about
them. The guys used to complain and complain until the sun or star
of whatever word we were raping clean rose up. I think most of them
had just accepted their lot. I think they just gave up.
Maybe
they
cracked their spirits and broke them.

I don’t
know.
I guess it doesn’t matter anymore
either. I can hear Kolt rummaging around beside me. I should really
snap out of it and see if there’s anything I can do. I owe the
scary son of a bitch that much at least.

I open my
eyes with a few long drawn out blinks. The shade helps as I force
them open. Kolt must have used water from the sprinkler system to
soak a cold compress for my battered head. It feels good. The
cool
of the towel is helping to take the
edge off the numbing pain in my head. I shuffle just a little. Kolt
has his back to me and I can’t see what he’s doing. I’m glad of the
moment to get my thoughts together and start adjusting to my new
surroundings.

My new
reality in fact. My head is spinning and I’m starting to feel sick.
I’ve been in enough fights to know just how a mild concussion
feels. This is one of the worst I’ve had to endure though. I can
keep it together though. Just as well. We are nowhere near help. I
can’t even think of the nearest inhabited
star system.

We’re still inside. I’m immensely grateful of
that. Kolt has closed the blast door and kept the shutters down
over the windows. We’re still in the jettisoned bridge of the rig.
Out on the sand somewhere on this planet, I have to admit, I know
precious nothing about.

‘
You are
awake?’ Kolt turns with his leather apron creaking as he sways. He
places a rising intonation at the end of the statement.
It makes it sound like a question but maybe he
meant it that way. His grasp of the English language makes me
laugh. It’s a little cruel of me though. He has just saved me after
all.

‘
Yeah.’ I can
talk a lot better now. That cold compress must be doing me the word
of good. ‘I feel like death, Kolt.’ I can just about sit up. My
back is making all
sorts of protesting
scrapes and cracking noises but I can do it. I let out a sigh of
relief once my head is securely and firmly clasped in my hands. I
push the compress hard into my forehead and squeeze a little water
into my mouth as it dribbles down my battered and bruised face. I
suppose I better be polite to this guy. He did save my
life.

I glance up
to start talking to him and catch a glimpse of his eyes again. I
can barely meet them. They are cold, red and bloodshot, and he
doesn’t seem to know how to stop staring. He has no emotion in
them.
It’s like they’re frozen or
something. Locked in one moment. I turn away but push myself to
make the effort.

‘
Look…’ I
begi
n. I’ve always been funny at
expressing any kind of emotion. Gratitude especially. Maybe I had
it beaten out of me years ago at work. ‘I never said thanks for…’
He didn’t let me finish.

‘There is no problem.’ I know what he means.
But I use his tenuous grasp of my language to start a
conversation.

‘I think we might have a few problems Kolt.’
I even manage a snigger. I thought, when I looked over to him once
more, that my jibe might have confused him. But he doesn’t, still,
manage any other facial expression than those frozen stiff
eyes.

‘That is not what I meant.’ He didn’t seem
amused at all.

‘It’s just a joke, relax.’ I urge him, trying
to put the fire out before it can extend into an argument. I
gesture forward with one hand, sort of like a submissive wave, and
he looks as though he accepts it. He backs off a touch.

‘Thanks.’ I say again, hoping that it might
be able to backtrack the conversation to a point where we were both
a little more comfortable. I wish I could see his face. I can’t
read him. I try again to engage him, ‘Where are you from Kolt.’ I’m
not talkative. Frankly I like my own company and I’m never too
interested in making new friends. They just cloud and clutter my
already unbearable life. But I’m beginning to sense that I’m going
to be the driver of the relationship between myself and this
guy.

Maybe I’m judging that a little early. Maybe
I should just give him a chance.

‘Russia.’ He
replies, proudly, and with an elevated voice. I think he might be
smiling. But I wouldn’t put
a year’s wage
of sweet nothing on it. I’m just glad he said something. This guy
has me on edge. I have to admit he is freaking me out. It’s his
eyes.

‘Which one?’ I ask him to confirm. I’m just
trying to hold down a decent conversation with him through my
throbbing head.

‘The first, and only.’ He replies even
prouder still.

That means
he’s from Earth and not one of the colonies.

The colonies
sprung up almost spasmodically after the invention of hyper drive
only
about two hundred years ago. I
almost don’t want to say.

‘I’m not from
Earth.’ I tell him. For reasons that don’t matter for anything
anymore, the emergence of colonies, just like in the Imperial age
back on Earth, caused wars. Independence wars, power hungry wars
and wars over resources. Those times became known collectively as
the “Colony Wars”. Some of the silly prejudices those wars created
lingered on. A lot of Earth people still hate colonists.

‘
An enemy
yesterday becomes a friend today.’ Kolt answers. I wish he would
just stop staring at me. Those eyes of his. It feels like they’re
piercing right through my skull and spooning my thoughts out of my
brain before they even occur to me. I’m surprised by his answer
though. Usually I get spat at. But I guess, out here, we are both
alone. Forced together. I think we both know that we have more
chance of staying alive if we stay together. I sense Kolt doesn’t
want our different backgrounds to drive a stake between our
fledgling friendship. He turns back to whatever it was he was doing
before.

‘
How did you
end up here?’ I ask him. I, with a huge amount of effort, lift my
broken body up and onto my feet. My
armor
starts to creak and groan but I’m very glad of it. There is no
telling how much worse my injuries might have been had I not been
wearing it. I stand to another chorus of cracks from my shocked
vertebrae. I sigh with pain but it’s duller and a lot more
comfortable than I had been expecting. My head is starting to clear
too.

‘I don’t
know.’ He replies and turns back to glance at me but only
momentarily. That was odd.
How
can he not know?
I should ask him. But I
daren’t. ‘I administered as many painkillers as I though you could
handle.’ He continues without dwelling on the first comment. That
explains why I’m not bent over double.

I glance
quickly
down at my red but heavily
scuffed armor. I bend my arms every way I can and listen to bones
and sinew crack and twist back into place. This armor used to
belong to a guard at my work. I stole that too. No surprise. I
needed a disguise. The material is made from flexible polymer. It
has a plastic feel to it but a tougher, hardened outer shell. I tap
it gently with my bleeding knuckles. It feels ok. I can move really
well in it and it dries quickly too. I remember sweating my ass off
when I came too before. Now I’m bone dry. Looks like I chose well.
This armor should be perfect for when we have to traipse through
the barren desert before us.

‘
Thanks.’ I
say again. I don’t know why this guy has me so freaked. Usually I’m
not afraid of a fight. He just has me spooked. He has a way about
him that I find a little unsettling at best. Maybe I’m just
suffering more than I thought from the hard hit to my head. The
concussion might be clouding my judgment. Maybe I’m judging the
poor guy a little too early.

‘
How come you
don’t remember
how you got here?’ I walk
over to him. More of a stumbling pace. To Hell with it I figure. I
nearly died a few hours ago when I planted my rig into the sand.
Why would he go ape on me after saving me anyway? I’m still nervous
to ask though.

‘If I knew
the reason why I do not remember, then I would not have lost my
memory, would you agree Sam?’ If it had been anyone else other than
Kolt, I would have thought that was a joke. But his fixed eyes give
nothing away.

‘Right.’ I
relent. ‘Call me Parker.’ I don’t add any reason.
Why bother?
I just prefer my surname. Maybe I’m just so used to hearing
the guards bark it before slapping me upside the head for the fifth
time in any day. Those painkillers must be working a treat. I’m
even getting a nice, subtle, but nice buzz from them. It’s making
me feel good. I’m starting to feel more like myself
again.

‘
I remember
the fire.’ He added. His voice tone changes, though not his cold,
hard, and fearsome stare. He sounds reflective and sullen
though even that is difficult to gauge behind
the muffling effect of his mask. I’m sure he is staring into the
distance, searching his fragmented memory, but those gruesome eyes
are impossible to focus on.

He must have
meant the fire that welded his mask onto his suit. And right into
his skin too.

‘Was that on
your ship?’ I pry further but don’t move any closer to him. He
stands and squares up to me. He doesn’t look threatening but his
body language is a little invasive and he seems to be on the
offensive.

‘I think so,
Parker. But I do not remember crashing.’ His voice trails off into
the abyss of his lost memory. ‘I remember walking. A great
distance. And then seeing you out here in the desert.’ He said
nothing more. His eyes are vacant and the repetitiveness of his
breathing through that mask is making me sea sick.

‘
So you
didn’t crash that long ago?’ I ask him and back off. I’m not
feeling threatened by him anymore. Even though I should be. I
wander over to the console on the right of the tiny bridge-come
escape pod. The polished surface, matted black in color, gives me
my first glimpse of my face in what feels like years. My beard has
grown out of control. I look like a wild hermit. Blood is matted
right through my blonde hair. I definitely need to get that cut
too. It’s longer than most women’s. My face is battered and bruised
too. I’ve only just noticed how aged I look. My face has the first
signs of wrinkles on it with crow’s feet around my eyes and
cavities in my cheeks when I force a smile. At least I think that’s
what a smile looks like. It’s been a long time since someone put
one of those on my face. So long ago that I’m not sure what face to
make when asked to smile.

Kolt thought
for a moment.
‘It can’t have been no.’ He
finally decided. ‘I have walked for a long time. The days have
melted together as one and I have not kept a record.’ I was going
to have to fill in the gaps later. He had saved me but clearly had
his own problems to work through. One thing was for sure though. We
needed to get out of this place and try to find some way of getting
rescued.