“In the outer realm,” he finished. “And no, the Enforcers can’t touch us here. But don’t get too excited. There’s a reason they don’t patrol these colonies.”
Solara didn’t argue, but that reason depended on who you asked. Politicians claimed the fringe was a drain on public resources, that the outer settlements didn’t generate enough revenue to merit the protection of the police force. Others implied that the colonists had devolved into animals, and it wasn’t safe to patrol there. But according to stories she’d heard, the real reason the Enforcers stayed away was because the fringe settlers refused to be controlled.
She liked that last reason the best, so that was what she chose to believe.
“I picked up a distress call from the northern settlement,” Captain Rossi said. “Figured I’d check it out.” He nodded at Solara. “Why don’t you tag along and get a feel for this new life of yours.”
Something in his tone put her on edge, but she nodded. She wanted to see how a fringe town operated.
“I’m coming, too,” Doran said. He settled a hand on her shoulder, which she promptly shrugged off.
“Suit yourself,” the captain told him. “But the shuttle’s a two-seater, so you’ll have to volunteer your lap.” The captain hobbled toward his chamber and called over one shoulder, “If you’ve got any weapons on board, bring ’em—the bigger, the better.”
Doran cut his eyes at her. “That doesn’t bode well.”
She agreed but didn’t say so. Instead, she retrieved her handheld stunner and told herself the captain was overreacting.
An hour later, she found out he wasn’t.
“My god,” Doran breathed, peering out the shuttle window at the decimated landscape below. His arms tightened around her waist, either as a protective gesture or from the shock; she couldn’t tell which. “What happened here?”
Solara shifted on his lap and leaned closer to inspect the town, or what was left of it. She’d never seen destruction like this. Wood buildings were flattened, their timbers pounded to the dirt in splintered fragments. None of the ruins were charred by fire, and she didn’t see any evidence of a flood. It looked as if a giant boot had simply descended from the heavens and stomped the settlement into the ground. Stranger still, the surrounding fields of leafy-green crops were untouched, including a reaping machine half covered in vines.
“A weapon, maybe?” she said.
The captain shook his head and steered the shuttle east. “A lightning spout.”
“A what?”
“It’s a side effect of sloppy terraforming. When the atmosphere’s not stable, it causes weird storms. Like twisters that build up pressure and strike in a single bolt. See how the damage is contained?”
She nodded.
“That’s how you can tell.” He grumbled to himself and said, “The settlement brokers colonize these terraforms too soon. They lure folks out to the fringe with the promise of free acreage, then leave ’em stranded here for life…however long that lasts.”
“Why don’t the settlers go back?” Doran asked.
“With what money?” the captain said. “They sell everything they own for the broker’s fee and a one-way ticket to the promised land. Once they get here, they spend whatever’s left on seed, equipment, and the fuel to operate it. That doesn’t leave much for transport fare.”
“What about fuel?” Doran asked. “If you wanted to fill your tank here, how much would it cost?”
The captain shook his head. “Only a fool would do that.”
“Humor me. How much per unit?”
“Not sure,” Rossi said, lifting a shoulder. “At least a hundred credits, maybe more.”
Doran’s jaw dropped. “But it was only two credits on Obsidian.”
“You’re not on Obsidian anymore.”
“That’s price gouging,” Doran said. “How do the settlers run their equipment?”
Solara recalled the mechanical reaper she’d seen abandoned in the field. “I guess they don’t,” she said, and her mind wandered to Vega. How long would they need a mechanic if they couldn’t afford to use their machinery?
“Anyway,” the captain went on. “Assuming the colonists hitched a ride back to Earth, they’d have nowhere to live, except crammed into a one-bedroom flat with a half dozen other families. That’s why they left in the first place.”
“And they can’t make a life anywhere else,” Solara said. “Not without money or a prearranged job.” A chill gripped her stomach. Even if she found work in the tourist ring, that would put her within reach of the Enforcers and another felony charge. When faced with the choice between Vega and a prison settlement, she’d have to take her chances in the fringe. She told herself it would be okay, that she’d prepared for this.
It felt like a lie.
“So they stay,” the captain said.
“And make the best of it,” she finished. “Like I will.”