History Lesson

The darkness surrendered to cold, pale light again. The Mongoose had cleared the shadow of the tunnel. Rising up a slope, Justin and Chris emerged at the main courtyard of City 17.

Cities on Traxus IX differed from those of most colony worlds. They were a great deal smaller, simply because the factory was the city—with its own utilities, municipal services, and its own code. Chris began to wonder why the government officials of a planet would name their pillars of order after numbers. But he dismissed the negligent nomenclature as just honesty in ironic form of the purest. The planet surely had plenty of irony about it to go around. After all, cities were usually named after people, places, or things—all usually of a world's making, of accomplishment or noteworthiness. What had this world made?

Chris stopped his musings on the small things and paid closer attention to different details. Surrounding the concrete courtyard was immense fortification. They were completely enclosed, save for the tunnel they entered through. Before Justin eased off the throttle, Chris could feel the air temperature rising higher the farther in they rode.

Roughly, Justin and Chris sat in the middle of a diamond-shaped vestibule the size of a gravball field.

They were dwarfed by the ramparts on all sides and the sheer amount of square footage of the ground they occupied. Justin paused here so Chris could take a good look around before proceeding further on. To the left side facing North-east was a huge rectangular complex of metal and stone adjacent to the permieter fortification, as was the same deal on the opposite wall facing South-east. Two huge complexes butted up against the barrier walls of the city. And atop each massive, perimeter wall were meter-wide causeways that wrapped around the entire courtyard in a horseshoe fashion, breaking just above the tunnel exit. That high, a man could see for miles and miles out of the city. And at the very tip of the square sitting on the East wall sprawled a spire of great height, an oddity how Chris only now noticed its mass looming so treacherously overhead, dwarfing him like an ant. With its thick trunk embedded deep inside the east wall, it could probably take a cyclone head-on, it was so stout. Chris was fixated on its placid, prevailing beauty. Justin took notice.

"That's the lookout point. We're not really allowed up there, but I could convince the boss to let me give you a tour of the place."

"Cool."

"But that'll come later. Those buildings to the side," Justin gazed outward, "is where all the manufacturing takes place. You already know that."

"Where is everybody?"

"What?"

"There's no one out here."

"That's because they're all inside working."

"No one goes outside?"

"No, not really."

"Smoke breaks?"

"Those can be done inside. There's stack-scrubbers overhead that can, or at least should filter everything out."

"What about just taking a break...to go outside?"

"Chris, not everyone is the same as you, okay?"

"Well, then why is the courtyard so huge?"

Chris' eyes bulged as he looked around, intent on hearing a worthy answer.

Justin then looked around as well.

The boy was right. The courtyard beneath their feet was a lot of concrete. Expansive and flat.

"Um, you know...I really don't know why." Justin replied. "But I don't really care anyway. I don't run this place."

Justin began to incite throttle and crept up to the East wall, just shy of the enchanting pyramid that Chris so awed over. Dipping below the spire was another tunnel. "Down and through there," Justin continued, "is Shipping and Receiving. That's where some of the less-than-honorable transactions take place. It'll be some time before you're ready to step foot in there."

Justin righted the Mongoose around and made towards the factory sub-complex to the left at the Northeast side. A motion sensor picked up his approach from a few meters off and the hangar bay below it parted in half, riding on tracks half-sunken into the concrete flooring. Dazzling-white light from mercury-vapor floodlamps oozed out the ever-widening fissure in the mighty portal, enveloping Justin and Chris in a tsunami of light and shadow. Justin inched the ATV inside and the doors crawled shut again.

They dismounted and Justin chained his vehicle to a nearby grounding busbar.

"I think I need to use the toilette soon. Do we need to let someone know before we go so they can take over our work until we get back?"

"No, just go." Justin said. "And when you walk around alone, don't act all new and shit. Be neutral and invisible if you can. Just go about your business like you don't really care about anyone else. Don't take too kindly to just anybody, either. I'm still not sure how you didn't become someone's bitch-errand-boy when you first got here."

Justin turned from Chris and led the way inside.

Wasting almost no space, the entryway soon gave way to columns of parallel conveyor belts, an army of workers manning them. The belts shot up from darkness of the depths below, bringing up fresh workloads, and carried on until the end of the sub-complex, until they went right back underground again at the far end, and beyond. Past the rows of assembly lines was a string of small rooms with opaque, one-way windows. The break rooms, Chris gathered. It reminded him of Ma & Pa strip malls on Earth. He tried to forget about all the comforts of home that he left behind, knowing they were staying that way. For now, he kept walking on Justin's lead, listening in as best he could amid the bustling goings on of the factory floor.

Justin pointed around, "So you probably went to work last night wondering the same thing you're wondering now. You asked, and someone showed you how to sort out a bunch of metal scraps on a never-ending conveyor, right? Well, I can already tell what was going through your head at this point. You were trying to look composed, hoping you wouldn't feel like an ass on your first day of work. You were nervous and fidgety, probably like the first time you were with a girl. You've been with a girl, right?"

"Once."

"How far'd ya go? Don't answer that." Justin halted and leaned his weight against the frame of a conveyor, facing Chris with a sudden fatigue in his eyes. "Traxus Nine's only commodity is cargo containers. It is also the only freight hub on the Settlement Line."

"Settlement Line?"

"The line running transverse through the Orion Arm that divides inner colonies and outer colonies. Now Traxus Nine's existence, while ugly and incomprehensible to you right now, is sort of a necessary evil. We're the only reason the UNSC got as far as the outer colonies in the first place."

Chris studied his surroundings, the whiring of the motors driving the belts and the workers droning on with their various duties. "Such a prosperous industry. Why all the crime?"

"It was only a matter of time before the black market traders figured out that all their traffic to and from the outer colonies would eventually route through this place. They flocked. Almost as fast as THI setup shop, so did the criminal enterprise. And if you're gonna have black marketeers, why not have the drug dealers and human traffickers tag along for the ride as well? They always do. This place became a septic tank overnight."

"So the company doesn't care what Traxus Nine became? As long as their business profits?"

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"That's horrible."

"Cry me a river, kid. Understand now that there's people out there with no conscience and not a care about your well-being. Hell, they got no compunction for just about everything else in life."

"Can you not use so many big words? I'm only sixteen, you know."

"What I meant to say, kid, was that there are all types of people everywhere you go. Some look nice, some look not nice. And there are some that look nice but aren't, and vice versa."

"I think I know what you're trying to say, but your choice of words is confusing."

"Aw, damnit. Kid, you got me trying to come down to your level and you messed me all up."

"Sorry. I know what you meant, though. No worries. We're on the same page."

"So, where were we? Right, now you've got basically two types of people here. Good guys; bad guys."

"That's simple."

"Well, the lines here on Traxus Nine have blurred somewhat. I'm what you would call a good guy, but sometimes I do bad things."

"Like drink and smoke and swear."

"Thanks for the update, shit head."

Chris sulked at Justin's insult, asked lowly, "And the bad guys?"

"Hey! Toughen up a bit. Don't let words get you down. You've got bigger things to worry about here."

Chris nodded.

Justin looked up and leveled his sight to the farthest conveyor, perhaps beyond as his eyes lost focus. "The bad guys are mainly the war lords and the people that live near them. In the beginning, this place wasn't all that bad when the crooked folk first arrived here. But people got greedy, took too much. Monopolies formed. People got jealous, producing rivalries and then after enough time went by...all-out war."

"A war?" Chris exclaimed with excitement flooding his eyes. "Did you fight in it?"

"I was a Marine before I came here, dumbass, pay attention. Hey…you didn't let that last zinger get to you. You are a fast learner. You keep this up and you'll be setting yourself up for success!"

Chris beamed up at Justin with a smile.

"So there was this war between rival bands of criminals, got real ugly real quick. At first it was simply over territory and material things, like the contraband flowing in and out of this place. But the panic that spread destabilized region by region until the whole planet was under anarchy."

"Where were you?"

"I was far from it all. I weathered the storm."

"And Pete, Bill, and Ken?"

"With me."

"So what happened when the whole place went crazy?"

"About the worst thing you can imagine. The factories shut down, overrun by murderers and rapists and cracked-out junkies. It was a worldwide killing spree gone fucking bonkers. And that's when the New Model Army stepped in."

"Who were they?"

"It's a store-bought assault force owned by the THI. Bunch of mercenaries and civilian contractors and those types. For whatever reason, they left the service and fought just people instead of the Covenant."

"That's crazy."

"Fuckin' Aye right it is." Justin said, sparking up a cigarette. "The assault force came down to Traxus Nine along with the hand of God. They killed anyone they saw outside, no discriminations. They didn't care who it was—Men, women, children—didn't matter. Everyone not indoors was targeted with military precision and exterminated like fuckin' Dakrats. Once the people of Traxus Nine found out how serious it had gotten, they settled down fuckin' rickety-tick. The New Model Army had complete order over the planet. There was still violence and everything after the fact, it was just more concealed than normal. I'm talking covert hits ordered by the warlords out there, house-to-house executions, fuckin' genocide shit. Lotta people gone for no good reason." Justin took a drag of the cigarette so heavy that the sheer volume of smoke would bog down a vacuum cleaner. He exhaled through the words: "Then, the NMA declared martial law and laid down the ultimatum: anyone out after curfew would be shot on sight, no questions asked." The smoke from Justin's lungs expelled completely and he took another drag. "So, finally, there was no more killing and the NMA packed up and left. The whole ordeal changed the face of modern warfare. Too bad their campaign will never get published into military history."

"Ugh. You have a sick sense of humor."

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

"So the NMA just left? After all the killing? After all their hard work? What happened after they left?"

"Hard work, eh kid? I like the way you think. Yes, they took off. But they left leaflets behind everywhere basically outlining a deal. Their systematic killing rampage was just to get the people's attention. The deal was either end the violence and start production again or starve to death."

"They threatened to cut off supplies?"

"Made everyone resolve their differences real quick. Now, here we are."

"So then THI won't let anyone leave because the word would get out."

"Yes. They'd blow up any unregistered vessel that tried to make escape velocity. The secret stays here, my friend. Life sentence."

"Holy shit! That is the most vile and despicable story I've ever heard! Tell me you're fucking with me!"

"Hey, that's your first curse word, kid. We're celebrating tonight. And yes, sadly, it's all true." Justin couldn't help but let a morsel of emotion slip by his barrier for the kid. "But hey," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "on the bright side, you missed it all. Be thankful for that much."

Chris shook his head in disbelief, still trying to accept Justin's history lesson at his word. "I don't feel like working. I'm sorry."

"Fuck. Well, just snoop around the place a bit. There's things to do here."

"I don't feel like getting high, either."

"Alright." Justin looked around impatiently. "How about games? You like games?"

"Video games?"

"Yeah. They're a bit old, though."

"How old?"

"Ever heard of a game called Marathon?"

"Oh my God, that is ancient! I'm not playing that."

"Yeah, fine. Like I said before, everything you need is here. There's showers, all-you-can-stomach food, pool tables, weight rooms, you can even crash in a bunk while I finish out my shift. No big deal. I'll come and find you when it's time to leave. Cool?"

"Cool."

Chris walked off. "Oh, hey!" Justin shouted, stopping Chris in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave this building. You can get into trouble. Out there is no place for a kid."

"Okay."

"And if you do decide to get lit up, don't punch in the clock and work the line. Supervisors don't like employees getting loaded before shift. Heavy machinery and occupational hazards and stuff."

"I'm just gonna go find a bed."