"What happened to the others in that group?" Ron asked Cesar Montero as they floated down the corridor.
The old man shrugged. "Three of them were members of Rafael's gang. He just told them to move, and they kicked other people out of bunks in other groups. Two others are in the med bay. The others saw what happened, and moved out without complaint. They are sleeping in the corridor now. It is not yet a problem, but once we boost out…" He shrugged again.
Ron frowned. "Well, the ones that were kicked out can start moving back. We would like to have our pick of the bunks, but we will pay those we displace. We wish to make friends here, not enemies. How many were in Rafael's gang? And how many other gangs are in this dorm?"
Montero's smile was sad. "They were only six, but they succeeded in terrorizing our neighborhood. Rafael and Paco were the worst, though. The others are mostly bullies and sycophants."
Vlad smiled. "Sycophants?"
Cesar's smile widened. "I am a retired teacher," he said. "Occasionally I 'blow my cover' as the proverbial oriental wise man by using high-flown verbiage." He waved helplessly. "The translators make it even worse. I can't even resort to the stereotype stilted English westerners seem to expect."
"Ah!" Vlad's white smile was broad. "A shortcoming we share. I find it impossible to maintain the proper 'cotton patch' accent, myself." It was becoming obvious that the black roboticist and the Asian retired teacher were relating well.
"Do you think we'd have any trouble paying the others to leave as well?" Asked Ron.
Cesar frowned. "Probably not, though I am not sure that would be wise. If we got rid of
all
of our toughs, it would encourage other, perhaps worse toughs to move in from other dorms. Since you appear to be rich, perhaps it would be wiser to let them fight out their dominance, and then bribe the winner to become our protector, rather than our tormentor."
Ron nodded. "The problem is that we're
not
really rich. We have almost a thousand credits left, but within a few days they will have no value. Any economy that develops on board will be based on barter, not pieces of paper from a place we'll never see again. So, you could say we're on a spending spree. We have to get everything we think we'll need before we boost out tomorrow and our credits become worthless."
Cesar looked thoughtful. "Ah, I see. You are correct, of course. I simply had not thought that far ahead." He smiled. "Apparently, neither had Rafael. He may find himself rather disappointed in his deal once we boost."
Ron shrugged. "That may be the least of his problems. He may have been the big fish in his small pond, but he's going to find real sharks among the Undies."
Montero had obviously been thinking. "You will be returning upstairs to gather your belongings, yes?" Ron nodded and Cesar Montero continued, "Raymond Koh is probably the one who will rise to the top now that Rafael is gone. Raymond is ruthless and amoral, but he's quite intelligent. When you return we will talk with him. He may be able to see that the circumstances have changed, and it might be to his advantage to work
with
us instead of against us."
Ron was pleased to hear Cesar refer to "us" instead of "you." It was, he hoped, the first sign that they could fit in here.
******
Ron and Vlad were packing their meager belongings into boxes in the Undie dorm when one of the women approached them.
She wore her red hair in a loose style that was beginning to frowse with the lack of gravity. Her green eyes returned his gaze without emotion. She seemed about 170 centimeters tall, and her shipsuit bulged interestingly in the appropriate places. Ron was not the first man to notice that the lack of gravity had dramatic effects on the female figure.
"Hello," he greeted her, and then simply waited for her reply.
"You're leaving," she said flatly. "How much to take me with you?"
Ron blinked. "Yes," he replied, "we're leaving. We've worked a bunk swap to a Drone dorm. You probably wouldn't find it very comfortable."
She shook her head. "I've lived in a ghetto before. I'd rather take my chances on crowds of screaming kids than a gang war here. My name's Tara Conner, and I'm a whore." Her eyes narrowed as she made that assertion, watching for the slightest reaction.
Ron's smile was disarming. "Glad to meet you, Tara. My name's Ron, and I'm a high school teacher, or I was."
"
Sure
you are," she said with broad sarcasm. "You just beat up street muscle between classes."
Ron's smile faded. "No, it's true." He shrugged. "Of course, I wasn't
always
a high school teacher. I grew up in South 'Cago."
She relaxed slightly, and a faint smile crossed her face. "Now,
that
I can believe," she replied. The smile faded as she continued, "So, how much? Or would you rather take it out in trade?" Her tone took on a note of challenge.
Ron shook his head. "If you're really willing to swap, you can probably do it for twenty or thirty credits. Just go to any of the Drone dorms; I'm sure you'll find someone willing to swap. But you'll have to do it soon. Once we boost, those credits will be waste paper."
Tara shook her head. "You've already got something working in one of the Drone dorms, and I'd be more comfortable with a couple of western faces around. How much?"
Ron frowned. "Tara, we weren't planning to take anyone with us. And we know nothing about you. Who are you, what do you know, and do you have any useful skills?"
She grinned. "I'm a whore. You know what I can do."
He shook his head. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. But we'll play it your way. You're a whore. Are you good at it?"
She looked startled. "I haven't had any complaints, if that's what you mean."
He shook his head again. "Johns rarely complain
to
a prostitute, no matter how much they complain
about
her. The few that do complain usually do it by beating her up. All I really care about is whether you're planning to continue in that line of work aboard ship. If you are, it could make it awkward for others in your bunk group and dorm. The better you are at it and the more you like it, the more likely you are to want to keep doing it."
She looked surprised. "You think I
like
having sex with every fat, smelly john with a few credits?"
He shrugged. "I don't think anything. I was asking. You gave me smart-aleck."
Her face darkened with anger. "Why, you…" Suddenly the red faded, and her face relaxed into a rueful smile. "I guess I did, at that." She replied. She shrugged. "I hope I don't damage your ego by telling you I hope I never see another penis. But if that's what it takes to survive, or to keep me from being hurt, well…"
Ron nodded soberly. "I understand. We all do what we have to. So, aside from sex, what can you contribute to a new world?
She looked unhappy. "Nothing, I guess. I was still in high school when I fell in teen love with the bastard that pimped me out." She paused. "Okay, you probably won't believe this, but before he came along, I wanted to be a cook." She threw him a sharp glance. "Not just a burger-flipper in a greasy spoon, but a real cook, in a real restaurant, with tablecloths and everything."
Ron shrugged. "Why wouldn't I believe it?
Can
you cook?"
She frowned. "A little. Sometimes I could sneak in a little shopping, and I used to try dishes on a hotplate in that damned hole I was kept in."
"Well," he said, "You won't get any practice on the ship; all the meals are prepared by mechs – robots. But the ship does carry one of the most advanced computers in the world. If you want to learn how to cook, I understand it has a virtual reality method to teach you. You might check it out."
She waved a hand in irritation, and then had to grab a bunk frame to stop the resulting spin. "Come on, damn it. How much?" her tone turned desperate. "I'll give you every credit I've got, and if you want freebies, you can have those too." Her eyes widened, showed panic. "But I've
got
to get out of here before those three creeps decide to have a little rape party! They made me a whore, but I
won't
be a sex slave!"
Ron recoiled from her obvious desperation. He'd never realized how vulnerable female colonists were. But he could readily see Tundell and those street gang kids, freed of the restraint of EarthGov, treating the dorm's women as their own. Not to mention Rafael and Paco, who would be arriving soon. And they weren't the only thugs in the dorm. No one, prostitute or not, deserved to spend years being gang-raped. He exchanged glances with Vlad, who nodded.
He sighed. "All right, Tara, you can come with us. I'm sure you'll be able to buy a swap for one of
their
creeps." She hurried off to gather her possessions.
Cesar seemed unsurprised when they returned with a woman. He merely took them to a section of the dorm that seemed to contain a number of women, where Ron and Tara were able to negotiate a swap with a rather mean-looking man for only twenty credits. Tara shuddered as the small man with the scarred knuckles pulled himself out of the section and headed to the next deck.
The other women crowded around, crying and thanking Ron and Tara profusely for saving them. The man had already made it quite clear that once they were out of EarthGov jurisdiction, he planned to make them his harem.
Cesar was furious. None of the women had reported the man's threats to him.
Vlad shook his head. "You represent the
old
authority. What could you have done? Report it to EarthGov? The man hadn't done anything except make threats, and he'd already told them he was going to wait until we were out of EarthGov jurisdiction. What could EarthGov do? They were already banishing him. No," he continued, "We're going to have to figure out a whole new structure, a new methodology for our society, both aboard ship and on-planet, if we're lucky enough to find one."
Cesar frowned in thought. "Or, perhaps an old one," he said.
Ron and Vlad looked at him expectantly.
"EarthGov cannot be our model," he continued. "It has a planet-wide shared culture, and still it has it's failures. We must step back to a time when man was grouped into small communities. Five thousand is, after all a small community. And a single dorm of two hundred even more so.
"The Filipino village cannot be our model, either. Our villages developed from tribal groupings, and involved people with shared identity."
Suddenly he grinned. "One of my more guilty pleasures is old movies. Do either of you know much about the late nineteenth century American west?"
Ron snickered. "You mean cowboys and Indians?"
Cesar's grin widened, though he shook his head. "Same time period, but different setting. The western town. Did you know that many sheriffs and marshals were actually wanted criminals in other jurisdictions? Wyatt Earp was probably the most famous example.
"Consider this scenario," he continued. "A wanted man comes to your small town. You have no sheriff or marshal capable of dealing with this 'gunfighter.' What is your wisest course of action?" He hesitated before answering himself. "You take up a collection, and hire the 'gunfighter' to be your sheriff!"
"Ah!" Said Vlad. "I see! You hire the wolf to protect the sheep! The wolf gets a steady job and respect instead of fear, and the town is protected. An elegant solution!"
Ron was frowning. "But perhaps difficult to implement. What can the dorm offer your wolf? All aboard receive the same allowances."
But Cesar had been thinking, and was ready for the question. "We 'tax' the dorm residents. All sacrifice a little, but no one has to sacrifice a lot; and the dorm gets protection from incursions by others."
Ron wasn't convinced. "But will the people do it? Will they see the benefit to be gained?"
They discussed it for another half-hour before agreeing to visit Raymond Koh.
Raymond Koh appeared to be of Chinese extraction. Surprisingly, he was clean and well-groomed, actually a rather handsome young man in his mid-twenties. He greeted Cesar respectfully and his two western visitors politely.
"Raymond," Cesar began, "You may not know it yet, but Rafael and Paco are gone, and so is Javier. Our friends, here, convinced them to move to an Undie dorm on the next deck."
Koh's eyebrows raised, and a slow smile appeared. "Really! How interesting."
Cesar nodded as he continued. "You are not a stupid brute like those three, Raymond. We have a proposition for you."
"Thank you, wise one. I shall be most interested in hearing it."
"As you may have realized," Cesar continued, "the situation has changed drastically from our little neighborhood. Here, all begin with the same possessions, and are given the same allotments of necessities. The fact that fingerprints are required to obtain goods and services limits the possibilities for crime – well, at least for robbery. Yet, we believe we have come up with a better substitute. We would like to hire you to protect the dorm."
Koh burst into laughter. "Protect it? From whom? Myself?"
But Cesar's smile was merely polite. "Among others. How do you think crime will work on board the ship? Force a man to give you his lunch? You can only eat so many lunches. Make him withdraw his entire week's beer ration, and then steal the whole six bulbs? Better, but suppose we were to offer you
twenty
bulbs of beer every week. That would be enough to trade with other dorms for whatever they have that you want, but instead of a feared and hated criminal, you would be the dorm's defender."
Koh's laughter had trailed off into a frown of concentration as Cesar continued. "I know you, Raymond. I watched you as you calculated your opportunities. I watched as you failed to qualify for a scholarship to the university, and analyzed your remaining options. I watched with sadness as you finally decided that your best option was to join Rafael, despite the fact that he was much less intelligent than you were.
"You are not a brute like Rafael, Raymond. You take no pleasure in being feared. We will be in this dorm for the next four or five years. This is your chance to become someone of importance in the dorm community. A man of respect, not fear."