By the time Nathan and the others had returned from the parts market, most of the raw produce vendors had already packed up for the day.
“You have returned,” the farmer called to them as they approached. He had completely disassembled his tables and canopy, and was finishing loading them onto his vehicle. “Does this mean you are still interested in purchasing some molo?”
“Indeed it does,” Jalea answered. “Does your invitation still stand?”
“Indeed it does,” the farmer smiled back to her. “I sold well today, so there is plenty of room for you all.”
“How will we get back?” Jessica whispered to Nathan and Jalea.
“We can contact Tobin. The farms are outside of the city, so there are no restrictions on landing. He can pick us up at any time,” Jalea assured them.
The farmer tossed the last crate up onto his flatbed hauler, dusted off his hands, and returned to them. “My name is Redmon Tugwell,” he announced, extending his hand. “My friends simply call me Tug.”
“Then we should call you…” Nathan began, taking his hand.
“…If you’re going to buy a bunch of my molo, then I guess you should call me Tug as well.
“Okay, Tug. Nice to meet you. I’m Nathan. This is Jalea, Jessica, and those two back there are Vladimir and Danik.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If everyone will climb on board, we can get started. It’ll take about an hour to get there.”
The vehicle was basically one big platform with wheels. At the front of the vehicle, the center portion was raised, covering the main drive section of the vehicle, behind which was a bench seat with room on either side of the driver for passengers. In the middle of the raised section was a small control console, with a steering column and a dash-mounted throttle to one side. On the opposite side of the console there was a small hand-brake lever. There were rails along both sides of the platform, with fold-down benches built into the rails. The side rails appeared easily removable, giving the flatbed vehicle the ability to haul objects considerably larger than the bed itself.
Tug climbed aboard first, reaching behind him to fold down the most forward bench seat on each side. “Everyone grab a seat, and we’ll be on our way,” he instructed as he positioned himself behind the driver’s console in the middle of the front bench seat.
Tug held out his hand, pulling Jalea up to sit beside him on his right. Nathan took a seat on Tug’s left, with Jessica sitting directly behind him, and Vladimir and Danik on the opposite bench.
“Hang on,” Tug announced. “It’s not exactly a smooth ride.”
Tug pushed the throttle forward slowly, causing the vehicle to lurch forward. The vehicle itself was quiet, the wheels creating the only perceptible sound as the dirt and gravel crunched beneath them.
They rolled down the back roads at a slow and steady rate, stopping occasionally to yield to other vehicles or pedestrians. Their rate of travel was better than it had been when they had arrived. Tug explained that the city was most active in the morning and early afternoon, and that by this time most merchants had already begun to make their way home for the day. The days were a few hours longer on Haven than on Earth, so most people spent the first half of the day conducting business in town, and the second half at their homes, most of which were small farms.
Nathan was surprised at how few people actually lived in the city proper. Other than merchants that lived above their shops, and a few small communities that housed mostly ring workers and technicians working the spaceport, nearly everyone else that lived on Haven resided on small parcels of land spread throughout the surrounding countryside. It entailed daily commuting into the city, but with the extra hours available each day, it did not seem to be a hindrance.
After about ten minutes, they found themselves on the outskirts of the city, moving at a much better speed as they made their way through the countryside.
The land was mostly flat, with only modest rises in elevation from time to time. The road was dotted with farmhouses both large and small. Nearly all of them had at least one greenhouse-many had several and of various sizes. There was also molo growing everywhere-along the road, between rows of greenhouses. Anywhere you would expect to see lawns, there was molo. Nathan had to wonder why they needed to travel farther out in the country to purchase molo from this guy, when there was so much of it growing all around them.
Nathan noticed that where the land was open and exposed, it seemed dried out. He could easily see how little would thrive naturally on this reformed world.
“Why is it so dry?” he asked Tug.
“There is no rain on Haven,” Tug explained. “Not any real weather of any kind, actually.”
“But you do have some natural vegetation in addition to the Molo, so there must be some water.”
“There is ground water, yes. And as you have probably noticed, the air here is pretty humid as well.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“When we go through our dark cycle, the temperature drops, and most of the humidity in the atmosphere settles back down onto the land. When the light returns, for the first few weeks everything becomes green on Haven.”
“So I’m guessing it’s not long until the darkness starts?” Jessica surmised.
“That’s right,” Tug told her. “In four days the long night will begin.”
“And it really lasts fifty-two days?” Nathan asked.
“What do you do all that time?” Jessica wondered. “Doesn’t it get cold?”
“Very. We stay inside, mostly. I work the greenhouses, where it is warm. But there is very little activity during this time, at least out in the country.”
“Sounds like a typical Russian winter,” Vladimir exclaimed.
“It is not as bad in the city,” Tug continued as they continued to bounce down the road. “They have lots of lighting, and heaters to keep the cold away.”
“That must be those vents we saw on the sides of the buildings.”
“Yes, they blow warm air out into the street. It is wasteful, but necessary. There were plans to enclose much of the city in a dome, but it is doubtful that they will spend the time and money to do so.”
“Sounds rough to me,” Jessica said.
“You don’t like the cold?” Vladimir asked.
“I grew up in Florida,” she explained. “We don’t do cold there.”
“Where I grew up, we had snow and ice for at least half of the year. Very cold,” Vladimir said. “But when the snow would melt, everything was green and beautiful.”
“Well, it never gets beautiful on Haven. It isn’t pretty, but it is out of the way and we are left alone. And because of the rings, we can get what we need out here.”
Nathan continued to gaze at the stark landscape as they traveled. “You know, there isn’t any wildlife here,” he stated. “I just realized-I haven’t seen so much as a bird, a squirrel, or even a dog the entire time we’ve been here. Don’t you have any animals on Haven?”
“There are some,” Tug assured him. “None that are indigenous to this world, as it was a lifeless rock before it was reformed.”
“Not even pets?” Nathan wondered.
“A few. But most people cannot afford such luxuries.”
“Surely you have livestock of some type?” Nathan asked. “You know, cows, chickens, pigs, goats. Animals you can eat?”
“Yes, of course. But again, such creatures are expensive to acquire and to care for. They are rare on Haven and only for the rich. And those that own such keep them indoors, to protect against the cold as well as theft.”
“There are bugs,” Jessica commented, as she swatted something that had landed on her neck.
“Yes,” Tug laughed. “Somehow, they always manage to find their way onto every human inhabited world.”
“He’s coming in awfully fast,” Ensign Yosef warned. By now, news of the harvester pilot’s skills had spread, and there were a few more people on the bridge than usual, all wanting to witness his first landing.
“Put up the flight deck approach camera,” Cameron ordered. On the main view screen, the image switched from the standard view ahead to one facing aft toward the open flight deck between the center of the ship and the massive drive section at her stern. A small point on the screen, nothing more than a glint of reflected light, was dropping toward them, growing larger as it descended.
“He’s coming in high as well,” Cameron noted.
Everyone on the bridge watched the main viewer as the little speck quickly grew in size as it continued to descend toward them. Within moments the speck grew into shape of the harvester. It came in low, skimming quickly over the tail of the ship. No sooner had it cleared the drive section than it dropped further, pulled its nose up, and flared its landing thrusters to decelerate sharply.
“Volander, Harvester,” the pilot’s voice came over the comm-channel. “You might wanna open your outer bay door so I don’t roll right into it.”
“Open it,” Cameron ordered.
The outer transfer bay door began lifting open as the harvester finished its flaring maneuver, settling onto the deck with enough forward momentum left to roll into the primary airlock bay. Without hesitation, the small harvester rolled under the rising airlock door, barely clearing, and then slammed on its brakes to stop just as it was about to kiss the inner door.
“Volander, Harvester. We’re in, close her up.”
The airlock bay door immediately began to slid back down as the harvester powered down her main engines in preparation to enter the hangar bay.
“Damn. Was that really necessary?” Cameron asked. Although his skills were impressive, she wasn’t too pleased with his reckless landing on her ship.
“Probably not,” Ensign Yosef agreed. “But it was impressive.”
“You have the Conn, Ensign. I’m going to have a little chat with that hot-shot about proper landing procedures.” Without waiting for a response, Cameron turned and headed out of the bridge.
The harvester rolled into the hangar bay, turning sharply to port before stopping. As it came to a complete stop, one of the ground crew ran underneath and opened up a control panel along the harvester’s undercarriage. After manipulating the controls, several locking mechanisms disengaged and the entire collection pod dropped smoothly off the bottom of the harvester and onto the deck. Moments later, two more workers were rolling the massive pod away to be unloaded. Meanwhile, others were connecting a refueling line that came from one of their nearby cargo shuttles.
Cameron came charging into the bay, marching up to Ensign Mendez, who was overseeing the security of the operation.
“Ensign Mendez,” she snapped. “I want to have a word with that pilot,” she ordered, pointing toward the cockpit of the harvester.
“Uh, yes, sir. But I think you’ll have to talk to their crew foreman, sir.” Mendez answered.
“And who would that be?”
“That would be me, lady.” The old man that had challenged Mendez back on Tobin’s shuttle stepped over from where he had been overseeing the manual off-load of the harvester’s collection pod.
“Commander,” Mendez started. “This is the foreman.”
“Marcus Wallace, at your service, ma’am.”
“Mister Wallace, I’d like a word with one of your pilots,” Cameron insisted in no uncertain terms.
“I’m assuming you mean Josh?”
“If he’s the reckless jerk flying that harvester, then yes.” Cameron looked over at the cockpit windows of the harvester. She could see the helmeted pilot as he checked his systems in preparation for departure. His face was obscured by the reflection on his faceplate, but he saw Cameron looking his way, and gave her a little mock salute. For a moment, she could’ve sworn she saw a smirk on his face.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, ma’am. You see, he’s in the middle of a hot refuel, so he can’t leave the cockpit. Besides, he’ll be taking off again shortly.”
“Well you tell that little hot-shot that he needs to call in for approach and follow the controller’s guidelines. Because the next time he comes in to my flight deck like a bat-out-of-hell, he’s going to find himself slamming headlong into the outer bay door. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marcus chuckled.
Ensign Mendez started to smile, then stopped when his eyes met his commander’s as she turned and charged out of the bay.
Marcus lowered his headset mic. “Joshua? I trust you copied all of that?”
“I gotta ask nicely next time?” Josh joked over the comm.
“If you don’t mind? And maybe you can ease up on the throttle as well?”
“Okay, but that’s gonna take all the fun out of it.”
“All right!” Marcus hollered. “Let’s get that pod unloaded, strapped back on, and get him the hell outta here! MOVE IT, PEOPLE!”
Workers scrambled to remove the last of the rubble from the collection pod before rolling it back under the harvester. With the touch of the controls, the pod raised up until it mated with the underside of the harvester, its latches grasping tightly and its wheels retracting up into her undersides. A warning klaxon sounded once from the harvester, and its motion warning lights began to flash, warning everyone on the deck that it was about to start moving. A few seconds later, the harvester backed up slightly, pivoted its nose aft, and started rolling out of the hangar bay and back into the transfer airlock.
“Volander, Harvester. Requesting permission for departure,” Josh’s voice crackled over the comms.
Marcus smiled. “Good boy.”
As they got farther away from the city, the farms became more spread out, with greater amounts of undeveloped space between them. Eventually, they turned off on a small side road that led into a canyon of sorts. It was about a hundred meters long and forty meters across, and it looked like a large trench.
“What is this place?” Nathan asked.
“Home,” Tug laughed.
“No, I mean how did it get this way?”
“As best I can tell, it’s a large sinkhole.”
“You’re kidding?”
“There are quite a few of them scattered all over this moon,” Tug told him. “Most people think it has something to do with the way this moon was reformed. In order to thicken the atmosphere, they pulled a lot of moisture out of subsurface aquifers, many of which were originally frozen. A few people have even put a roof over the smaller ones and created their own little habitats inside. But mine is a bit large for that.”
They drove down into the sinkhole along a road cut into one side. There were long greenhouses built along each side, with small storage buildings in between each one. As they made their way through the middle of the compound, they could see stacks of molo, all cut and bailed, ready to be sold at market.
“Is that all molo?” Nathan asked.
“Yes. Fate smiled on us both this day. This was all due to be delivered to another buyer. But they backed out at the last moment. Had you not come along, I would’ve had to prep and dehydrate all of this in order to preserve it. To avoid all of that extra work, I am willing to give you an excellent deal on this batch.”
“Where did you grow all of this?”
“Here, before the harvest, the molo covered the ground from wall to wall. The bottom of this sinkhole has a higher moisture content than the ground above. The molo grows denser and more quickly here than in most places.”
“How long does it take to grow?”
“Only a few weeks.”
“Damn,” Jessica exclaimed. “It’s a fungus factory.”
The vehicle pulled to the far end of the sinkhole, coming to a stop in front of a large building situated in the middle of the back wall. The building, which Nathan assumed was the main residence, was connected to another building directly behind it, which in turn was connected via tunnels on either side to the rows of greenhouses wrapping around the compound. From the looks of the layout, Nathan figured the residents could probably go the entire dark season without ever going outside.
“This is it,” Tug announced as the vehicle stopped.
As they climbed down off the vehicle, a young girl and a woman several years younger than Tug came out of the main house to greet them. The woman looked wary of the strangers, the young girl only curious. The woman squinted, trying to see the faces of the strangers that had come home with her husband.
“It’s okay, Ranni. These people have come to buy our molo.”
Jessica’s hand immediately moved inside her cloak to grab her sidearm, as light reflected off something along side of the woman.
Nathan noticed Jessica’s reaction. “What is it?” he whispered.
“She’s armed.”
“Wait,” Nathan warned. “Maybe she’s just being cautious.”
Nathan watched as Tug approached his wife, followed by Jalea. After a few steps, both of them came out of the amber glare of the low afternoon sun and into the cleaner illumination cast by the house lights, making her better able to see their faces. The woman suddenly began to relax, laying a large energy weapon against the wall behind her as her daughter left her side and ran to her approaching father. Jessica’s hand eased off her hidden sidearm, withdrawing her empty hand from her cloak.
“Papa!” the girl squealed as she jumped into his outstretched arms. He scooped her up and hugged her, kissing her cheek repeatedly. “What did you bring me, Papa?”
He set her back down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of candy. “Your favorite,” he said, handing her the candy.
“Thank you, Papa,” the little girl said as she took the candy.
“Now go back inside, sweetie. Papa still has work to do.” Tug turned back to Nathan and the others. “If you would like to inspect the molo, to determine if it is to your liking, I will rejoin you shortly.” Tug bowed slightly as he turned to follow his wife inside.
“Thanks for not shooting her, Jess,” Nathan said.
“Good she didn’t raise that thing,” Jessica replied. “I would’ve dropped her without a thought.”
“I do not believe these people pose any threat to you,” Jalea scolded.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Nathan answered. “Shall we inspect the molo?” he asked, gesturing for Jalea to lead the way.
Jalea walked past them toward the stacks of bailed molo, casting a disapproving gaze toward Jessica as she and Nathan turned to follow.
“Yeah, let’s go look at the pretty mushrooms,” Jessica mumbled as she passed.
“Some fun, eh, my friend?” Vladimir mused.
As they walked away, Nathan could hear an argument arising between Tug and his wife from inside the house. They were using their native tongue, so Nathan couldn’t understand them. But he was pretty sure that Tug’s wife was not happy about her husband’s surprise guests. A quick glance at Vladimir told Nathan his friend had come to the same conclusion.
Tobin sat down at his usual table in the small cafe near Haven spaceport. Having just returned from delivering the work crew to the Aurora, it was his first opportunity to partake in more familiar cuisine. As he began his meal, a nefarious looking man sat down at the table behind him, his back facing Tobin’s.
“I trust our guests have arrived?” The stranger sitting behind him spoke softly, as if to himself, barely loud enough for Tobin to hear over the noise of the cafe.
“They have,” Tobin responded between bites. “And my payment?”
“Already in your account.”
Tobin pulled a mini data pad out of his pocket and checked his account balance, the sum of which drew a smile on his face. “Excellent,” he mumbled to himself as he placed the pad on the table and continued his meal.
“It was a large sum to provide on such short notice. You’re lucky we have assets in the system,” the man said.
“Please,” Tobin scoffed. “Do not insult me with your lies.”
“We grow impatient, Tobin. What is their location?”
“Patience. You will know soon enough.”
“I will know now, worm,” the man insisted, his still low voice taking a threatening tone.
“They are not currently accessible,” Tobin lied. The truth was he hadn’t spoken with them in several hours and did not in fact know their current whereabouts.
“Stick to the plan, my friend. Just be at my berth with your people at the proper time.”
The man grumbled. “You’d better be right about this one, Tobin.” The man finished his drink in one long gulp and departed without saying another word. Tobin continued eating his meal, an almost giddy look of anticipation of things to come on his face.
“I trust the molo meets with your approval?” Tug asked as he approached.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be fine,” Nathan said.
“How much are you asking?” It was obvious that Jalea did not think it wise for Nathan to do the negotiating.
“I’d say ten standard credits per kilogram is a fair price.”
“And there are fifty kilos per bail?” Jalea asked.
“That is correct. You can have all twenty bails, if you like.”
Jalea turned to Nathan. “It is a fair deal. I doubt you will find better.”
“How much should we buy?” Nathan had no idea how many meals that amount of Molo would provide for his crew. Nor did he have any idea how much revenue their harvesting operation would bring. He was forced to place his trust in Jalea’s understanding of the matter.
“I see no reason not to purchase the entire amount. If preserved properly, it should last you and your crew several weeks, if not longer.”
“And we can afford it?” he added in a whisper.
Jalea nodded slightly, as she turned back to Tug. “We will take the entire amount. That would be ten thousand credits, correct?”
“That is correct. How are you to make payment?”
“We are currently engaged in harvesting operations in the ring. Once we sell some of the harvest in the market tomorrow morning, we will be able to pay you for your molo.”
“That will be fine, I’m sure. But I will have to hold delivery until payment has been made. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Jalea agreed.
“I can deliver it to port, if you wish?”
“That will not be necessary,” Jalea assured him. “We will have it picked up by shuttle tomorrow.”
“If you prefer,” Tug agreed. “If you’d like, you’re all welcome to stay for dinner. I can have my wife prepare some of her delicious molo stew. Then you will taste for yourself the quality of the product you are purchasing. And for a few extra credits, I might even be able to convince her to bestow her recipe upon you.”
“We are honored by your invitation,” Jalea bowed. “Captain? I trust that would be acceptable?” Jalea flashed Nathan a look urging him to accept.
“An honor indeed,” Nathan stated graciously, trying to his best to speak in similar fashion.
“Wonderful,” Tug said. “I will inform my wife that we have guests for dinner.” Tug bowed his head before heading back to his house.
“Great,” Jessica commented. “Mushroom stew down on the farm. And to think, I joined the Fleet to get off the farm.”
“I thought you said you were from Florida?” Vladimir commented.
“What, you think Florida is all beaches and bikinis?” Jessica sniped.
“I’m not sure staying for dinner is such a great idea, Jalea,” Nathan said. “I’m not sure we should hang around that long.”
“Agreed,” Jessica added quickly, looking for any opportunity to avoid having to eat more molo.
“It would be quite rude to turn down the invitation, Captain,” Jalea warned. “And you did say that you wanted to learn more about this part of space. How did you put it, ‘take a look around’? Perhaps this might be such an opportunity.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Nathan nodded. “Sorry, Jess.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. She knew he was right, that it was a good opportunity to gather more intel. “Dinner hosts are usually chatty.”
“Jalea, will you contact Tobin and arrange for a pick-up later tonight?”
“As you wish,” she said as she stepped away.
“Jessica, set up the tight-beam mini-dish and try to make contact with the Aurora-I mean the Volander. Let them know what’s going on.”
Ensign Mendez watched as the workers carried trays of separated ores from the processor to the cargo shuttle. The workers were an odd mixture of different types of people, all men except for three women, all with no noticeable similarities between them. Although they seemed to be moving at a steady, relentless pace, the foreman continued to yell at them incessantly.
To his right, one of the flight crew for the harvesting team sat snacking on some dried substance. “Who are these people?” Mendez asked the flight technician.
“Just workers,” he replied.
“What do you mean, ‘just workers’?”
“They come from all over. Some of them come voluntarily. Others are purchased.”
“What? Like slaves?”
“Not slaves, really. They usually owe someone lots of money. They sell themselves into labor contracts in order to pay off their debt.”
“And how long are these contracts?”
“It depends on the size of their debt. Usually a few years, at least.”
Mendez shook his head as he walked away. He walked casually around the hangar bay, as he had done every so often since the harvesting operations had begun. He didn’t do it because it was necessary, but rather to give the appearance of being vigilant as a deterrent to anyone thinking of sneaking off the flight deck. But the workers had proven to be just that-workers. They appeared to have little interest in anything other than surviving their long, grueling shifts, which thus far appeared to be never-ending.
As he made his rounds, he decided to veer off his perimeter walk, instead turning inward and walking along the sorting line. A string of about ten workers stood along either side of a long conveyor belt that moved rubble from the hopper that had been unloaded from the harvester to a cargo container at the other end nearer the cargo shuttle. As the rubble passed by, the workers, who wore some type of special scanning eye-wear, picked out certain pieces, depositing them into containers at their sides. When one of the containers became full, another worker would replace it with an empty one and carry the full container off to the processor.
Mendez came to a stop at the far end of the conveyor line, standing next to the old foreman, Marcus. “What are they sorting?”
“They’re pickin’ out pieces with the highest concentrations of precious metals. You know, gold, silver-hell, there’s even diamonds in these rings. Theory is there used to be two stars in this system, but the first one went super-nova eons ago. Most of the ring is composed of a massive planet that was blown off of its orbit when the first star blew up, and the planet drifted to close to the gas giant and got pulled apart.”
“Don’t you have machines that can do the sorting?”
“Sure. But machines cost money. And machines breakdown. Workers are cheaper and more versatile.” He smiled, eyeing an attractive, although somewhat disheveled, young female worker on the sorting line.
Just then, one of the workers on the sorting line, a middle-aged man, leaned over on both hands on the edge of the conveyor. He was obviously exhausted, and was simply trying to rest for a moment. Nevertheless, his unauthorized respite quickly earned him the foreman’s wrath.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marcus bellowed as he stormed off toward the exhausted worker. “Did you hear anyone call for a break?”
“Hey!” Mendez interrupted, grabbing the foreman’s arm to slow his progress. “Ease up! Can’t you see he’s just tired?”
“I don’t give a damn if he’s tired! He’s paid to work, not rest!”
“I said ease up!” Mendez insisted. This time, his tone made clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.
The foreman turned to confront the ensign, bound and determined not to let anyone tell him how to run his crew. The tired worker did not want to be the cause of the dispute, knowing that even if he avoided punishment now, it would surely come later.
“It’s okay,” the worker assured Mendez. “I’m okay. I can work.” The man straightened back up and started working again. “See, I’m working. I’m sorry, sir.”
Marcus turned back to Mendez, staring him cold in the eyes.
“You got something to say?” Mendez asked in a challenging tone.
The foreman looked the young ensign over, taking special notice of both his close-quarters weapon and his sidearm. The look of confidence in the ensign’s eyes told the foreman all he needed to know. This was not a man to be underestimated. With nothing more than a grunt, the foreman returned to his monitoring position at the end of the conveyor line.