Chapter 4

Soon after we left LaGrange, it was announced that the Conestoga was not only a transport ship for mine workers. It also carried paying customers. Some were immigrants to Mars. Some were wealthy tourists vacationing in space.

This became important when we were advised that we could make extra credits if we volunteered to do some of the service tasks needed by these paying passengers. Things like laundry, cleaning cabins, serving meals. The pay wasn’t that good, but it was better than nothing, which is what we had in the cargo spaces.

Of all the jobs, food server was the most sought after. Usually, the wait and bus crews would be able to scrounge extra food. Food that didn’t look like and taste like a mud brick. But because these jobs were in high demand, competition for them could and sometimes did become violent.

Peter and Jim turned out to be our best scroungers. Because of that, we would stand back while they got whatever jobs they could. With his gift of gab, Peter was usually able to acquire tips and other loose change. This he would share equally. Jim, however, was the expert on food and water. But it was Ming Le and himself first, and the rest of us came after.

This happened three or four times until Martha and I talked to him about it. At first, he got belligerent, but Frank was standing behind us, and Jim soon backed down.

In general, it was quiet most of the time. That is as quiet as 100 bodies packed into a too-small space could be. But as time went by and people grew bored, fights started breaking out. It was stupid really, once we reached Phobos, we wouldn’t have time for these petty wars that were beginning.

Our group was generally avoided. We had several things going for us. We had an excellent space to start with. Being in the corner like we were, we could only be approached from two directions. We also had six guys that were more than willing to mix it up if needed. But our secret weapon was Martha.

Martha looked like a helpless female and could act like one if it suited her. But if you irritated her, she had the upper body strength to punch your lights out. And if it came to a real tussle, she could make a blade, or several, appear as if by magic.

Once word got out about our group, only the most aggressive or stupid gangs would try us on. The worst of these was a group that included Ming Les attackers.

Late one evening, the atmosphere in the bay changed. It got very quiet and very tense. Peter and I were on watch at the time. Yes, we always had someone awake and watching. Peter whispered to me, “The fats in the fire boyo, best to wake the others up. Quick as a bunny, Gideon son.”

It was about ten minutes after everybody was up that the first of them showed up. He didn’t say or do anything. He just stood about 5 meters outside of our area. He was soon joined by two more. Because it was during a sleep period, the lighting had been turned down. Not completely off, but dim enough for everything to be in shadows.

Jim, who was watching our flank, whispered to the rest of us, “Got two more over here.”

Soon ten attackers were surrounding us. Then, at some unseen signal, they rushed us. What developed over the next fifteen minutes was an all-out melee. Punches and kicks were being thrown. Bodies were going down and being dragged out of the way, just to be replaced by fresh ones.

Eventually, they ran out of steam and started falling back. There were blood trails leading in all directions away from us. Our butcher’s bill was just as bad. I had a nasty cut on my upper left arm and another on my right thigh. Ike and Mike had been clubbed several times and had blood running from cuts on their heads. Even Martha had a stab wound in her belly. It wasn’t deep or serious, but it looked like hell. Worst off was Frank. He seemed to have been the target of most of their attention. He had slashes on his arms and legs, and a really bad one ran across his belly.

Both Martha and I had to muscle Frank into a bunk. We spent the next hour stitching him back together. When we stepped back, I noticed Martha was bleeding from her belly wound. Ten minutes later, I had her wound cleaned out and patched. Unfortunately, I couldn’t suture it. Only time would heal that one.

After Martha was patched and asleep, I looked over the others. Between Peter, Jim, and Ming Le, everybody was patched and taken care of. Later, when I checked on Martha, she was awake and had a half-smile on her face. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Oh, nothing much. Did you know that you stick the tip of your tongue out when you work? Don’t worry. I think it’s kind of cute.”

Two nights later, Peter disappeared for most of the night. When he returned, he wouldn’t talk about where he had been. The next morning, during turnout, the ship’s crew found three dead bodies in the recycler area. All of their throats had been cut, and their bodies mutilated. We had no more problems.