Lee did not answer, because this was obvious as well.
“You were going to ask me to conceal them in my equipment for you? Risk death for blackdirt tapes?”
“I didn’t know.”
“I guess not. Here, sit down, you’re getting me nervous standing there. Pour the tea into the sink and I’ll give you something better to drink. Just as illegal as the tapes, though with not the same penalties attached.”
Jan unlocked a cabinet and took out a plastic bottle filled with a lethal-looking transparent liquid. He filled two tumblers and passed one to Lee.
“Drink up, you’ll like it.” He raised his own glass and drained half of it. Lee sniffed suspiciously at the glass, then shrugged and drank a good mouthful. His eyes widened and he managed to swallow it without choking.
“That’s… that’s something I never tasted before. Are you sure that it is drinkable?”
“Very much so. You know those apples I raise behind the shop? The little ones about the size of your thumb? Very sweet they are and the juice ferments easily with the right yeast strain. I get an apple wine that must be about twelve percent alcohol. Then I put it into the deep freeze and throw away the ice.”
“Very ingenious.”
“I admit it’s not an original idea of mine.”
“But it’s such a simple way of concentrating the alcohol. In fact, after drinking a bit it tastes better and better.”
“That’s not original either. Here, let me top you up. Then you can show me some of those tapes.”
Lee frowned. “But the death penalty?”
“Let us say my first fright has vanished. It was just reflex. With the ships late, and they may never arrive at all, why should I worry about the retribution of Earth, light-years away. He flipped through the tapes, squinting at some of the titles. All pretty innocuous stuff, red hot by this planet’s standards, but nothing political at all.”
“What do you mean, political?”
Jan poured their glasses full again and stared into his. “You’re a rube,” he said. “A hick. And you don’t even know what those words mean. Have you ever heard me talk about Earth?”
“No. But I never thought about it. And we know about Earth from the taped shows and…”
“You know nothing at all here on Halvmork. This is a dead-end planet, a concentration-camp world at the end of nowhere, been nowhere, going nowhere. Settled by forced migration, probably, or with politico prisoners. Doesn’t matter, it’s in the records someplace. Just an agricultural machine filled with dumb farmers designed to churn out food for the other planets for maximum profit at minimum input. Earth. Now that is something else again. With the elite on top, the proles on bottom, and everyone in between fitted into place like plugs into a board. No one really likes it, except those at the top, but they have all of the power so things just go on and on forever. It is a trap. A morass. With no way out. I am out of it because I had no choice. This planet or death. And that is all I am going to tell you. So leave the tapes. I’ll take care of them for you. And why the hell should we worry ourselves about something as trivial as tapes?” He banged his glass down with sudden anger.
“Something is happening out there — and I don’t know what it is. The ships always arrive on time. Yet they haven’t. They may never come. But if they do, we have the corn and they will need it.
Fatigue and alcohol dragged him down. He finished the last swallow in his glass and waved Lee toward the door. Lee turned back before opening it.
“You didn’t say anything to me tonight,” Lee said.
“And I never saw any damn tapes. Good night?”
Jan knew that a full three hours had gone by, but it seemed that the light and the buzzer clawed him awake just seconds after his head hit the pillow. He wiped at his encrusted eyelids and was all too aware of the vile taste in his mouth. And it was going to be a very long day. As his tea was brewing he shook two stims out of the bottle, looked at them, then added a third. A very long day.
There was a heavy knocking on the door before he had finished his tea, and it was thrown open before he could reach it. One of the Taekeng, he forgot his name, thrust his head in.
“All the corn loaded. Except this car. Like you said?’ His face was streaked with grime and sweat and he looked as tired as Jan felt.
“All right. Give me ten minutes. You can start cutting the hatches now?’
Lee’s illegal tapes were in with the machine tools, sealed and locked. All the clothes and personal items he would need were in a bag. As he washed the tea things and stowed them in their cabinet niches there was a burst of ruddy light from the ceiling. The point turned into a line and began to trace a circle in the metal. As he pushed his bed, table and chairs out through the front door, the circle was complete and the disc of metal clanged down, biting deep into the plastic flooring. Jan threw his bag over his shoulder and left, locking the door behind him.
His machine shop car was the last to go. It seemed that everyone was working at once. A thick tube snaked over from the nearest silo and up the side of the car. The man above called out and waved and the hose writhed as the flow began. It bucked in the man’s hand and a golden rain clattered down on Jan before the man leaned his weight against it and sent the corn flowing down into the car through the newly-cut hole. Jan picked a kernel from his shoulder. It was as long as his middle finger, wrinkled from vacuum dehydration. A miracle food, product of the laboratories, rich in protein, vitamins, nutrition. It could be made into a child’s first meal, a grown man’s food, an old man’s gruel and it would be all the nutrition he would need in that lifetime. A perfect food. For economic slaves. He put it into his mouth and chewed ruminantly on its hard form. The only thing wrong was that it just did not taste like very much of anything.
Metal creaked as the corner jacks lifted the car above its concrete bed. Men were already in the black pit below, shouting curses as they stumbled in the darkness, lowering the wheels and locking them into position. It was all happening at once. They scrambled up the ramp at the end just as the tug-tank was backing into position. While it was being hooked up, the corn loaders on the roof topped off and the pumping stopped. So well coordinated were the activities that the men who sealed plastic sheets over the newly cut ports actually rode the roof, shouting protests, as the car was pulled forward slowly, rising as it rode up the ramp. Once it was on the level the brakes were locked while the mechanics crawled beneath its massive bulk to check the tires, unseen for four years.
While Jan slept, the trains had been formed up. This was only the third time he had seen the great migration, and he was as impressed as he had been at the first. The native Halvmorkers took it for granted, though there was excitement at the change in the daily pace of their lives. The move was just as exciting for Jan, more so perhaps since he had been accustomed to the variety and novelty of travel on Earth. Here any escape from the boredom and repetition of everyday life was a relief. Particularly with this unexpected change, this altering of the physical world he had grown to accept since they had arrived. A few days ago this had been a thriving city, surrounded by farms that stretched to the horizon and beyond. Now it had all changed. All of the bustling transport and machines had been locked away in the massive silos, their doors sealed. The domed pressure buildings had been deflated and sealed away as well. The other buildings, the mobile ones, had changed character completely. No longer earthbound structures, they had risen on rows of sturdy wheels and been formed into regular lines, along with the farm buildings which had been trundled in to join them. Where the city had been there now stood just foundations, as though it had been wiped away in some incredible blast.