Tulon Station
(Part 1 of 2)
by
John M. Whalen
About the author
"COME ON, BEFORE THEY CHANGE THEIR MINDS," the man said.
The woman looked up at him and
then at her Tulon captors. The man had put a laser
sighted electron rifle, three thermo blankets, six pairs of Krylor
boots, and a case of Thompson
Synth-whiskey down on the table. He was a tall man, lean and hard
looking, dressed in a blue
tunic, dark grey pants and knee-high Krylor boots. An electro-pistol
was strapped to his leg in a
Velcro holster. The Tulons, six of them, dirty, smelling of foul
living, and dressed in their
customary desert garb, stood nodding their heads, thinking what a good
deal they had made.
She got up from the floor where they had kept her
chained to the wall. The man took her
by the arm and led her out of the hut into the hot desert sunlight.
They walked to his Hover-Jeep.
He let her open her own door and got in behind the wheel.
The leader of the Tulons and one of his men came out
of the hut and stood there looking
at them, as he started the vehicle. She was afraid, the way they looked
at her. She felt the Jeep lift
up and then they were moving. She could not take her eyes off the rear
view mirror on her door.
She watched the Tulons recede in the distance, praying they did not get
into their hover vehicles
and come after them. After what she'd endured the last two weeks, she
could not face that again.
Finally satisfied they were not in pursuit, she let
out a sigh and sat back in the seat. She
looked over at the man who had bartered for her.
"Thank you for getting me out of there," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," the man said, keeping his eyes
straight ahead
"Who are you?"
"Brand, ma'am," he answered.
"How did you find me?"
"I heard the Tulons had a woman captive," he said.
"They're usually willing to give up a
captive, even a female, in exchange for things they really need."
She smiled ruefully.
"I guess a woman's life isn't worth very much on
this planet," she said.
"No, ma'am," he said. "Nobody's life is worth much
here. This is an oil rich planet that
made the most of the Earth's dependency on fossil fuels. The oil
companies sent exploitation
teams and made this one of the richest planets in the galaxy. But when
Earth converted to Digital
Atomic power, this place went bust. Nobody needed oil anymore. The oil
companies went
bankrupt and left Tulon high and dry. The Tulons were left to try
and exist anyway they can."
She looked at him carefully.
"You almost sound sorry for them."
"They're victims as much as anybody else. It's the
big corporations that are to blame. First
it was the oil companies, now it's the Digital Atomic conglomerates.
Everyone's at their mercy
now."
"Well, I'm sure that at least one of those
conglomerates, as you call them, will make your
rescue of me well worth your while. As Senior Vice President of their
interplanetary development
division, I'm sure Virtual Fuel must have posted a substantial reward
for my return."
"Could be, ma'am."
"You don't know?" she asked.
"There isn't much in the way of communication out
here," Brand said.
"Then how did you know I'd been kidnaped?"
"Like I said, I'd heard they'd taken an earth woman
captive. I didn't know it was you."
"And you risked your life without knowing anything
about me?"
"I know what the Tulons do to their female
captives," he said. "For a couple of weeks they
would have kept you alive for their own satisfaction, but eventually,
being short of food they'd
have killed you. I couldn't let that happen to any Earth Woman."
"I see," she said. "Then I guess I should introduce
myself. I'm Myra Steele. My father is
Jessup Steele, CEO of Virtual Fuel. I was on a transporter on the way
back to earth. I was here
closing down the last fuel development site Virtual bought out from
Trans-Exxon last year. The
transporter crashed. I was the only one who survived. Those savages
found me wondering in the
desert. I tried to tell them who I was and that they could
collect handsomely if they contacted my
father. They just laughed. They have no phones, no radios. They said
they didn't care about
money. They treated me like a slave. They— "
She suddenly was unable to talk, as the memory of
the last two weeks flooded over her
"Best not to talk about it," Brand said.
"Where are we going?" she asked, after she'd pulled
herself together.
"There's a relay station not too far away," he said.
"We can stop there. I brought along a
change of clothes for you. You can get cleaned up. Then it's a long
trip out of the desert to the
Transport Center. You can catch another ship back to Earth."
"Tulon Station," Brand said.
She looked through the Hover-Jeep's dirty windshield
and saw a small, silver, dome-
shaped building ahead that looked totally abandoned. Brand pulled up in
front of it and cut the
power. The Jeep sunk down on the sand and they got out. The sun was
still fairly high in the sky
and temperature was close to one hundred Fahrenheit. Brand opened the
trunk and lifted out a
canvass sack. He tossed it to her.
"There's a fresh tunic, pants and some sandals," he
said. "You can go in there and change.
There won't be any water, but I brought this."
He lifted a ten gallon can out of the back of the
vehicle. He carried it to the station. He
pushed the stainless steel door open, and saw a scorpio-pede skitter
out into the sand on its
hundred legs. The place was a mess inside. It had once been a
café, where oil workers stopped on
their way to and from drilling sites. But now all the windows were
gone, the tables were
overturned, broken dishes lay shattered on the lunch counter. Brand
went back into the kitchen
and came out carrying a stainless steel pot.
"You can wash in this," he said, pouring water from
the ten-gallon can. "I've got food in
the Jeep. I'll bring it."
A half hour later, she sat at one of the tables,
drinking water from a cup and chewing on
the Synth-Steak Bar, Brand had given her. She was dressed in the
clothes he brought, which
amazingly, fit her perfectly.
"How'd you know my size?" she asked.
"Didn't," he replied. "Just lucky."
She looked over at him, as he sipped water from the
tin cup he held in his gnarled hand.
She judged he was in his late thirties. But something about him made
him seem much older. His
face was lined and creased, and there were flecks of grey in his dark
brown hair.
"Where are you from, Mr. Brand?" she asked.
"Back on Earth, originally from Utah," he said. "I
came here as a kid in the big oil boom.
Worked for Trans-Exxon."
"Rigger?"
"Little bit of everything."
"When was the last time you were home?"
"Never went back," he said. "Been here twenty years."
"Where do you live?" she asked.
"Anywhere I can," he said. "You can call me a desert
rat."
"Must be a harsh existence."
"Harsh," he said, "but clean. A lot cleaner than
life back on earth. And despite what you
might think, a lot more peaceful."
"But surely you must miss civilization," she said.
"What could possibly keep you here?"
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of
roaring engines outside. Brand got out
of his chair and she followed him to one of the windows. She saw three
land rovers. Unlike
Brand's Hover-Jeep, these were old fashioned four wheelers with
combustion engines. But like
the Hover-Jeep they ran on gas and oil. On Tulon gas was free and there
was plenty of it.
Three men got out of rovers. They were big men, with
electro pistols strapped to their
legs. They wore denim pants, Krylor boots. Two wore tank tops and one
wore no shirt at all. All
three had scarves tied around their foreheads, Apache style.
"Who are they?" she asked.
"Trouble," Brand said.
Click
to go to Part Two