The Worker Prince (5 page)

Slavery was a subject on which he’d never formed much of an opinion. He valued his own freedom, and human beings, to him, had always seemed deserving of such freedom. But he had never met a Vertullian. He had no idea what they would be like. Perhaps after spending time there, he would understand better. They might be great troublemakers, lazy, even subhuman as he’d been told. Throughout history, they’d been the enemies of his people, but beyond that, he decided it would be best to wait and see. Regardless of what he thought of them, Davi determined to treat them with fairness and dignity. He had read stories of abuse by past supervisors and guards, and he would not allow such things on his watch.

The shuttle accelerated, forcing him back against his seat as pressure closed around his head and chest. He took deliberate slow breaths as he’d been trained and looked straight ahead, trying to relax. He hadn’t been on a shuttle since his early days at the Academy, and even though he’d flown VS28 starfighters in training, he’d never been out of Legallis’ planetspace. Whatever else happened, he figured it would be an interesting challenge.

As twinkling stars filled the windows and the shuttle settled into its flight path, Farien snored beside him. Chuckling to himself, Davi leaned back and glanced out at the black void of space. The blue tinged globe he’d always consider home receded rapidly as the shuttle broke orbit and arced off away from its surface. He’d never seen the planet from space before. It was far more spectacular than any of the pictures he’d seen. A new phase of life was beginning. He’d been dreaming of this for a very long time.

Chapter Two

There has to be something better than this! Two weeks behind a desk shuffling papers is not what I had in mind!

Since arriving on Vertullis, Davi’s only excuse to get out of his office had been occasional forays to check on operations. His days consisted of report after report from subordinates and superiors: requests for upped production times, reports on incidents involving workers or fellow soldiers, etc. Despite his responsibility for numerous squads of men supervising farm workers in the region south of Iraja, his big adventure had turned out to be anything but.

Never had Davi so wanted to blast off an e-post to his Uncle begging him to pull strings and get him out of there! He cringed at the thought of how his uncle might respond. Xalivar never responded well to any sign of weakness. Davi’s head hurt from thinking about it all.
Either my head’s going to explode or I’m going crazy.

The communicator beeped. A major from Administration had invited him on a tour to show him around.
Finally, a chance to get out of this office!
Davi pushed his chair back from his desk like a rocket and stood, hurrying to meet his host.

He met Major Isak Zylo at the shuttle port near the administrative offices. As Davi appeared, Zylo smiled and extended his hand.

“Pleasure to see you again, Captain.” Short with broad shoulders, Zylo’s light skin seemed bright against the grayness of his uniform. His red hair and beard were both sleek and well groomed.

“Please, call me Davi. I think there’s no need for such formalities among officers when they’re alone,” Davi said.

Zylo smiled, an impressed look in his eyes, and relaxed noticeably. “Indeed. Call me Isak. Shall we be off?” As Davi nodded, Zylo turned quickly led him aboard the shuttle. Moments later, the doors closed.

Unlike the shuttles Davi had flown in before, this shuttle had been designed for in-atmosphere tours like theirs. Except for the thin framework, its top half consisted of transparent materials several inches thick, enabling passengers to enjoy an almost three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the world around them. Davi and Zylo sat on swiveling chairs atop a raised dais in the center of the shuttle, enabling them to turn in any direction at a moment’s notice with just the flick of a foot. The Ensign piloting followed a major artery out of the city and headed toward the agricultural fields to the south. Now that Davi had set the informal tone, Zylo looked totally relaxed, but Davi found himself nervous and excited. His stomach fluttered and his throat grew dry. Ironic, given that usually others were more unsettled in his presence than he was in theirs.

Downtown high-rises slid past as they left the starport then gave way to residential neighborhoods. Houses of all shapes, sizes, and colors surrounded them, the streets here noticeably less hectic than those of the city center. The constant chattering of people mixed with music blasting from electronic billboards floating overhead. Moments later, they reached the outskirts of the city and the landscape changed. His ears filled with the sound of his and Zylo’s breathing, the shuttle’s flight computer, red zinga birds’ gentle singing and eight-legged insectoid amblygids’ chirping, forming a pleasant drone.

As they entered the agricultural region, buildings stood further apart amidst great stretches of farms and grazing land. Transportation corridors ran throughout linking buildings to each other and to the capital. Workers tended herds of gungor and daken, while others ran harvesting machines.

From what he’d seen, the Vertullians lived up to none of his expectations. The workers didn’t seem lazy or troublesome or at all subhuman. Instead, they performed their tasks as if they enjoyed themselves and required very little supervision. If there hadn’t been soldiers guarding key points and supervising some of the work sites, he might not have even remembered the Vertullians were slaves.

As Davi watched the workers, Zylo smiled. “Have you had much experience with workers?”

“Not really,” Davi said, turning back toward his companion. “Nothing beyond some reports.”

“Ah, yes, the workers’ reports,” Zylo said, his voice rising in pitch as irritation flashed in his eyes. “‘The quotas are unreasonable and unfair. The Alliance’s demands are abusive.’ You shouldn’t give much credence to most of what they say. These people love to complain.” He shook his head, his mouth crinkling with disdain at every word.

“You think there’s nothing to them?”

“I think we should expect nothing less from a people like the Vertullians,” Zylo said.

The Major’s defensiveness puzzled Davi. He’d studied the history of animosity between the Vertullians and his own people, and from what he’d read, it seemed his people had often provoked the Vertullians. In any case, they’d never put up much of a fight. Conquered time and again throughout history, they’d fled the Earth and settled on Vertullis when their ship developed an engine problem. Upon discovering who their neighbors were, they tried to forget the past and sue for peace, but the Legallians conquered them again. They’d been slaves ever since.

The history books overflowed with stories about the laziness of the troublemaking workers, but Davi knew enough to suspect at least some of it was propaganda. He refused to form an opinion about them yet.

Desiring him to think for himself rather than simply conforming to society’s views, Miri had arranged special tutors to expose her son to the writings of classic philosophers from Old Earth like Holmes, Locke, and John Stuart Mill. He’d read Martin Luther and Erasmus and many others. From these books, he’d come to believe in the inherent dignity of man and man’s right to free will and self-determination. While he also believed in the superiority of the Borali Alliance—the greatest society in the history of humankind—his exposure to life on Vertullis had him wrestling all over again with issues he’d debated over and over in his youth.

It wasn’t like he had anything personal at stake. He’d never known any workers, but they seemed as human as he was. According to his professors, their continual failure to defend themselves reflected on their validity and equality as men. Still, he found himself wondering how they’d come to lose the freedom he believed all men deserved.

As they passed a clearing, he took in rows of workers assembled beside a barn to watch as soldiers administered punishment to another worker. The guilty man had been strapped to some sort of electrical wires which disappeared into the barn. The soldier questioning him shocked him every time he gave a dissatisfactory answer. Davi flinched, averting his gaze as his eyebrows lowered and pinched together. It disturbed him to see such a thing out in the open.

Zylo’s hand on his shoulder drew Davi’s focus away from the scene he’d been watching. “Sometimes we have to make examples of them so the others will learn.”

“What could he have done to deserve that?” Davi wondered aloud, trying to conceal his horror.

“He was born a worker. They may be human but, trust me, they are not as evolved as our people. No sense of responsibility. They need to be motivated,” Zylo said. Conviction dripped from him like sweat.

A group of soldiers leaned against the barn and laughed as they watched. To Davi, it seemed less about serious discipline and more about entertaining the soldiers at the workers’ expense, but having heard Zylo’s acceptance of it, he held his tongue.

“You know the history, of course. The Vertullians have long been the enemies of our people. Inferior thinkers—they have only one god, no respect for power, no ambition. The work gives their lives meaning. Left alone they’d all be aimless with no real purpose or direction,” Zylo said. It was the standard justification historians and pundits used for the Boralian’s treatment of their ancient enemies.

Davi stared out the window as the shuttle flew past the clearing and into a small city called Araial, landing near the small downtown.

“I thought you’d like to see more than the agricultural areas,” Zylo said as they stepped out onto the tarmac. “Workers are also employed in factories and maintenance in most of the cities.”

The first thing Davi noticed was that the air here seemed lighter, clean and refreshing, unlike in Iraja itself or in Legon where he’d grown up. Only the hiss of the wind blowing through the trees pierced the calm around him—a silence like he’d never experienced before.

They walked along between a row of buildings with eight or nine stories, instead of the minimum fifteen or twenty found in Iraja or on Legallis.

“Araial has a population around one hundred fifty thousand. It’s small, but nice as outer cities go,” Zylo said.

Davi followed Zylo around a corner and saw two soldiers with a worker backed against a wall between two buildings.

“For almost a week now you’ve failed to meet your quota,” the taller soldier said.

“I try, sir, I do. The new quotas are impossible,” the worker pleaded, his voice shaking, his face filled with fear.

“The Alliance sets the quotas, not the workers,” said the shorter soldier with a cocky grin.

“Your job is to meet them,” the taller soldier added.

Davi watched the worker’s eyes. He didn’t appear to be making excuses. Instead, he appeared to be struggling to remain upright.

The shorter soldier poked him hard in the chest. “Did you think you could stop doing your work and keep making us look bad without any consequences?”

The worker shook his head, confused. “No, I—”

“Maybe we need to teach you a lesson.” The taller soldier rolled his eyes as both soldiers grinned.

“No, please. I’ll work harder,” the worker said, backing away.

The taller soldier took a club from his belt and started banging it on the wall, inches from the worker’s head. Wood splintered under the impact as nearby windowpanes rattled. The worker trembled in fear.

“You’ve said the same thing every day this week!” the taller soldier responded as he swung the club again and again.

Davi tensed, his nostrils flaring as he started toward them, preparing to interfere.

Zylo grabbed his arm. “Let them handle this!”

Davi was shocked. “They’re going to beat him!”

“He probably deserves it,” Zylo said, unconcerned. “We get nothing but trouble from these workers.”

“Nothing justifies cruel abuse of another human being,” Davi snapped, yanking his arm free.

“These workers don’t qualify for the term ‘human,’” Zylo said with growing irritation. “You might want to know the situation before you decide to interfere with our soldiers doing their duty.”

“Their duty is to make sure the workers stay on task, meet their quotas—”

“Their duty is to do whatever it takes to maintain the workers’ production levels and focus,” Zylo’s cheeks reddened as he shot Davi a reproaching look. “Maybe someone who’s been on the planet only a couple of weeks should observe first before rushing in. Lord Xalivar’s order authorized whatever’s necessary to keep the workers in line. The Prince of all people should know these policies come from the top.”

Davi did know but he’d never imagined anything like what he was seeing. “He didn’t mean
this
,” he said, matching Zylo’s accusing stare. He hadn’t known about this specific order. Could his uncle have authorized such barbaric means? He wanted to respect his uncle, yet what he had seen conflicted with what he knew in his soul to be right and just.

“Come on. There are other things I wanted to show you.” Zylo grabbed Davi’s arm and led him on past the soldiers across a well-groomed lawn. Soft grass bent with each step, cushioning his feet. Davi ignored the hand on his arm, realizing that here he was just another officer, not a Royal whom touching casually was forbidden by law. Clearly, he had a lot to get used to.

Over the next two hours, Zylo and Davi toured a few factories and then the city works warehouse where workers bore responsibility for keeping the city’s parks and transportation corridors in top condition—picking up garbage, clearing debris, and tending landscaping and plants.

At his desk again, late that afternoon, Davi couldn’t get his mind off what he’d witnessed. He stared at a plant on the windowsill next to his framed diploma from the military Academy. They amounted to the only decorating he’d had time for. Sparse light reflected off the standard gray paint common to government offices. His standard chair sat next to a standard desk buried under piles of files, in queue for the file cabinet behind him. Occupying space between stacks of papers were his computer terminal and communicator. The blandness of the room matched his mood, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off the plant, a gift from the ambassador he’d met at the palace. It stood as the sole living object in the midst of dreary desolation.

His mother and teachers had taught him principles of law and ethics, intrinsic human rights, and the fundamental value of life. His uncle Xalivar seemed far from sympathetic, and they’d often had hearty debates during which he’d learned his uncle had a different perspective on the world than his. Even though their discussions had always ended with respect and understanding, Davi couldn’t bring himself to respect orders calling for such cruel abuse. Perhaps the rumors he’d heard from other cadets had some basis in fact. How could the uncle who’d been like a father to him have hidden such a dark side all these years?

He turned on his computer terminal and fired off an e-post to his mother. She would know the truth. It amazed him she’d never spoken about it before. Did she agree with what was happening?

O O O

The next day, Davi travelled out to the farm where Farien oversaw a team of soldiers who supervised workers. The farm itself was larger than Davi had expected with acres of land stretching off for miles and dozens of barns, warehouses and processing buildings, giving Farien a great deal of responsibility, despite his disappointment at not being assigned to a higher position. Neither one of them seemed to be living a high adventure, but at least Farien got to work at the heart of things. Though they hadn’t seen each other since their arrival on the planet, Davi hoped to keep their relationship friendly, despite the discomfort either might feel at Davi being Farien’s supervisor.