EXILE

“So, what did he have to say?” Moshe followed Tom into their dorm cell at the end of the canteen period. Tom was the third man in, and sat down at the steel-framed table in the open space.

“Quite a bit, actually. I’m convinced that he’s the one we were tipped off about. Of course, he never admitted to Movement membership, but no-one ever does.”

“So, he was the spaceport arrest?”

“Yup. The buzz was right.” Since Stein’s arrest, there had been four shuttle flights from Earth to the colony, but most of them had been cargo flights. Only one earlier flight had had any convicts, and they all went straight to the over-worked mine crews. As usually happened, the network passed information in a circuitous route. People transported before Stein, when he was on remand, took the news to the platforms, relaying it to the convicts already there, who then took it to the moon. The news was repeated by others already at the platform when Stein arrived, leaving before he did. Miners who were injured were sent to the infirmary, and relayed the news to the Q6 men who were also there, and onwards, ever onwards.

Moshe had been briefed on the main details of Stein’s case - Movement leader arrested after successful CSA investigation, a purposefully self-sacrificing decoy, or maybe a successful transfer to the moon, free of charge. Moshe, Henry and the other team leaders had developed a plan, a scheme by which ultimate control and authority over the colony would be at least shared by the convicts. A plan that, should it be discovered, would warrant immediate execution, was only to be put into action should the political structure on Earth be seriously altered.

What Tom had said to Abe was right - although most convicts had been convicted of murder or other serious crimes, the common thread that bound them together tighter than any chains that the Justice Department supplied was their classification as enemies of the State. Each and every convict on the moon had been judged to be a menace, a serious threat to the safety not of the public, but of the Global Union. Not itself a warrant for execution, but enough to justify deportation. If the Union were to ever collapse, then the convicts would no longer be a threat, and could justify reclaiming their position in society. The men had plenty of time to think about how to go about it successfully, all the time in the world. After all, they weren’t going anywhere in a hurry.

Moshe and Henry had developed the plan over several months, and had then worked out what people would be necessary for the plan to succeed. Some of the key players were already in place, the others would (hopefully) arrive on other shuttle flights. Of course, they had no idea who the actual people were, only what they could do, their skills, knowledge and personalities. One by one, during the last couple of years various newboys were met and studied. Some of the originals died by an assortment of industrial accidents, and had to be replaced. Also, details of the overall scheme had to be revised and modified in response to changing colony policies, and with the rapid increase in militant suppression of any activity that could possibly be considered to be a threat to “national security”. What it amounted to was a global government that was the closest parallel to Orwell’s vision some hundred or so years before. Unfortunately, this system was real, and not confined to the pages of a slim, yet powerful novel. Time was short, and the network was painfully aware of its shortcomings, and should the anticipated power shift happen very soon, the success of their plan was very much in the balance.

Two weeks ahead of Stein’s arrival had come word of his approach, and Moshe had discussed it with Henry. The two men knew immediately that Stein would be a crucial link in the network, analogous to the battery cell of a circuit. Irrespective of how complex the electronics, how many thousands of transistors were contained in the integrated circuits, only the inclusion of a battery would make the machine live and function. Most of the convicts had Movement sympathies, and it was probable that the Freedom Movement had already recognised the pivotal role that the moon played in Earth’s fortunes, and that they had acted on it. The presence in the colony of a senior Movement operative would provide the necessary cohesion and credibility that the network needed, if its success was to be ensured when the time came. And that time was almost certainly closer than not, as no senior Movement leader would willingly throw themselves at the CSA for lunar exile.

“Okay, Tom.” Moshe leaned forward on his elbows, one hand held in the other. “So, he’s our link, he’s on our team, and is sleeping next door. Okay. That’s cool. Tell me about him.”

“Pretty much fits in with his advance profile, arrested the day of the spaceport shots, and charged with conspiracy. No remorse. He’s the most well-adjusted newboy that we’ve had for months, perhaps ever.”

“Uh-huh. Other from normal newboy guff, what questions did he ask?”

“Interesting - how many cons here are regulars, as opposed to politicals, and about the redundant tunnels. Also, the routine. Most are willing to wait at least to the next day. He wanted it then and there.”

“Good - allies, road map, schedules. He’s planning already. Chances are, he’ll sit quiet for a while, study the place, us, and how the colony works. He’ll also be making contact with bona fide Movement men, to create his own network.”

“But, what about ours?”

“It’ll save him a hell of a lot of trouble and time if we bring him in. It will also be essential.”

“How so?”

“If he moves fast, we’ll end up divided, with two separate groups, with no real unity. With resources divided and with two independent plans in operation, both will fail. Hard. Tom, I want you to be like a big brother to him, and by that I mean learn him as only a brother can. He won’t make any contacts immediately, but given time, he will, and time is the one thing that we don’t have much of. As soon as you think that he is becoming live, pull him in. Okay?”

“Crystal.” Tom looked around him, and returned his attention to Moshe. “Next up, what about the other newboys?”

“Glad you asked.” Moshe leaned back, his arm stretched out so that he could tap the tabletop with his fingers. “Two of them, Flanders and Harrison, have no connection with Stein whatsoever. They never knew of each other’s existence until they got on the same shuttle up here. Flanders is the scared guy. He was a reporter who began to ask too many questions. His whole basis of trust and faith in the system, free speech and all that, has been eliminated. If we can restore some foundation to his world, he’ll settle down and stabilise. He’s a word man - when I got him talking about his personal interests he freed up a lot, and showed us how bright he actually is. I suspect that he’ll be of use as a negotiator, and for later communications. He’s also very curious, and can make a very accurate story out of a scrap of information. Harrison, the tubby guy, is not too bright, but very strong. Not much to him.”

“What about the nerd?”

“Russell? An asset. Like Flanders, nervous as hell, borderline neurotic. But Russell is like that naturally. Antisocial, prefers machines to human company. But, like old Mister Ed over there,” tilting his head towards Flanders, “If you get him talking about his passion, he forgets to stutter, stammer and twitch. He comes alive. He was done for hacking into the CSA system, apparently. But he was in remand with Stein for a couple of weeks. They were each other’s only company, I think.”

“Really? Why the CSA system?”

“I think that’s a cover. No-one would be so stupid as to hack into a system with a well-proven tracer system. And he’s too bright. Nah. Our boy here went voluntarily on a suicide mission, and I can guess who for.”

“Freedom?”

“Only people with the organisation and the willingness. You know, others before self.”

“So, what does he mean for us?”

“A lot, Tom. We don’t have many byte jockeys up here, and those that we do have learnt most of what they know since they arrived. This guy is a specialist, Tom. He lives for computers. If there is anyone up here who can use what we have to access, use, possibly over-ride and control the Q7 mule, then it’s Scott Russell. But that’s secondary to whatever influence that Stein has over him.”

“Okay, Moshe. So, Stein already knows, possibly already controls Russell.”

“Yup. We’ll have to isolate them, gain Russell first. Whatever Stein may do, he can’t do it without Russell to do the computer work.”

“Handy.” Tom thought for a minute. “What about the others on the flight?”

“Covered. Two of them, Alf Newman and Bill Hulce, were in remand with Stein since the CSA headquarters in Chicago. Newman was a television producer, Hulce a professional thief, but with a difference. He would hypnotise his victims and suggest that they give him all of their money. In court it was successfully argued that he had taken nothing, but only accepted gifts. His last job involved a weapon, and he was caught.”

“He would be an ideal tool for controlling the warden and staff.”

“My thoughts exactly. Post-hypnotic suggestion, and all that crap. Still, it’s not a sure-fire way to protect ourselves, and shouldn’t be relied on. It’s main use would be as an interrogation tool.”

“So, who got those two?”

“Henry, I think. We’ll find out for sure tomorrow. If they are, then Stein is even more important. They’ll probably respond more to Stein, who they know and have shared experiences with, than to us, total strangers.”

“Sounds as if Stein is the key player.”

“In more ways than one, Tom. We need to integrate him and his Movement network into ours before it comes into being, and to use him to gain the co-operation of the other newboys.” As he spoke, the two-minute alarm sounded.

“But will he come in?”

“He’ll have to - once we explain the options. Namely, do it or fail. We can’t afford to split loyalties around here. Even if he did persist, he doesn’t have our local knowledge. He’ll be forced to use our network. No, Tom, if he is to succeed, it can only happen as part of us. Now, not later. I’ll give you three days to get him settled, and then bring him in.”

“That’s a bit tight, Moshe.’

“I know, but something tells me that may even be too long. Work fast, mate.”

The two men looked at each other briefly, eye to eye, and then both stood and turned to their respective bunks. No sooner had they reached their own spaces than the lights went out, not to turn on again for eight and half hours. Within minutes, all men in Q6 who weren’t on guard duty were sleeping.