Gary Underwood- Criminal

"What you in for?"

Roughly a million non-parahumans are sent to Pluto a year, at a price of 32,000$ per person, that's 3.2 billion dollars a year and that's not counting parahumans. Operational costs, transportion, maintenance, everything else is around a 100 million dollars a year. Leaving 3.1 billion dollars a year in profit, and this is the lowball number.

"Embezzlement, my old company screwed me so I screwed them back."

That earned me a nod.

"So why aren't you in club Fed?"

I shrugged.

"I got 20 years, I decided I'd rather spend my life free on Pluto then crammed into some cell."

Man snorted.

"You're crazy, but I can respect that."

There was a steel wall between us and the pilot. They entered their room from the side, we entered from the back. You were allowed to get 500 dollars worth of stuff in a duffle bag, and use your own personal money or gifts from family members to fill a backpack. You had to pay for that privilege, if you were willing to pay more you could pick your drop off point. According to my calculations that brought in at least another billion. Of the 3.1 billion dollars, one billion was sent back to the federal government and 1 billion would go into NASA's pocket, this would of course be used on the other World trees, and 1 billion would go into the PRT's pocketbook, the remaining 100 million would be split by the city of Seattle and the state government.

"It is what it is, you have any survival training?"

The man smiled.

"Went hunting as a kid, you?"

"Was in the scouts."

He looked around, the room was pitch black, we didn't have light that was an extra expense we didn't need.

"Put on your packs, get your duffle bags."

Most of us listened as the back opened.

"Step out now."

A few people tried to resist, the bottom of the chopper opened dumping them to the ground, the chopper shaked itself until all the prisoners were off and then flew away. I stopped looking at the vanishing chopper and looked at the night sky illuminated by a large moon. I turned around and stared at the glowing trees in the distance. The forest shifted in colour going from green, to yellow, from yellow to orange, from orange to red, from red to purple, from purple to blue and then to green again.

I felt a sense of wonder, my pack felt heavy and I felt a tap on my back.

"It's beatiful."

That earned me a snort, the 30 of us stood on the shore while a man with a shaved head brought out a radio, he turned and tuned it until some music went on. I noticed the shaved head, he looked at us.

"Midgard is two weeks that way."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, so the new guy?"

"Not one of us."

He stared at me.

"What did you do on the outside?"

"I was an acountant."

He shook his head.

"Right, well I'm going to radio Midgard tell them what we can do."

He started talking in german and then sighed.

"OK new guy, I'm sorry but they don't need accounts in Midgard, if you knew medical stuff, how to make stuff or even looked strong enough to farm well we could make an exception but it's hard out here and you don't have anyone to speak for you and you don't have any skills."

"Take his shit?"

One of the criminals cracked his knuckles.

"Nah, it's just going to make us tired, we have to get going right now."

They got up and looked at me.

"Midgard has a rule, if you can survive a hundred days on your own they're willing to let you in, if you come in there will be more rules. There are of course other places but they're much further away and I don't see you living long enough to get there."

He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't follow us."

With that they melted away into the distance, I looked at the forest, there was a river around here, and I remembered learning how to make a canoe in the scouts. There was no internet, no television, just me and nature. It was going to be hard but it would be better then a goddamned cell in some shithole.

I dusted myself off and started walking, the survival books in my pack felt heavy, as I started my life on Pluto.