Mars had always been a romantic place, a shining red jewel sitting in the night’s sky: a world of mystery and wonder. It had also looked like a place to escape.
God, he had been a fool.
Ranma cursed. The damn wedding. When the smoke had cleared and the debris had been cleaned up all the blame had been dropped right onto him.
Tendo-san bitched at him for being unfaithful. His father had bitched at him for wasting ‘his cure’. Akane just flipped out on him calling him a womanizer. Nabiki told him he’d be paying of the mess. Even his mother joined in, asking if he was really a manly man or if he was trying to avoid the wedding night, fingering that damn katana.
He snapped. He just ran out of the house looking just to get some space. As he stormed through the Nerima prefecture he saw a recruiting office.
Ultor. “Building a Better World”, and all that shit. Ultor was the monolithic Zibatsu like mega-corporation that had sole mining and developmental rights to mars, and according to the sign, they needed miners.
A year in Ultor’s Martian mines has seemed like a excellent idea. There was no way in hell that the fiancés, his parents, and every other crazy in Nerima would follow him 60 million miles. They wouldn’t have even known where he’d gone.
He was in hell. Living hell. He and his fellow miners were treated like slaves. He’d come to Mars to have some time to himself be he hadn’t been alone since he’d gotten there.
The barracks were a nightmare. Narrow bunks in dark rooms, graffiti covering the walls, trash every where. Every miner shared the bunk with another. It was absolutely disgusting but you got used to it. One minor slept while the other one worked. He didn’t know what they did with the other eight hours, but he had a good feeling that they sure as hell were not changing the linins.
He scoffed. He wouldn’t even get started with the communal showers and urinal troughs.
It was even worse with his curse: The next person to proposition him for sexual favors was going to need a new face… next group of idiots that thought an attempted rape was a good idea… well… they were going to meet their maker. Maybe a couple of grease stains against the wall would send a fucking message.
The guards didn’t help. They were psychos and they were everywhere. On the bright side, they left him his space. After he’d thrown one through a reinforced plate glass window for pinching his ass in girl form they learned to stay off his case. He bet he could kill them all, but he didn’t really want to test if he could catch bullets. His year was almost up, he just wanted to get the fuck out.
What made it worse were the drugs. In the barracks the only thing that spread faster then the flees and lice were drugs. He bet that Ultor had a hand in it: A mind fucked minor was less likely to kick the doors down then a healthy and angry one.
Oh, and worse then the was the plague. Miners keeling over left and right. One minute the guy next to you is a okay, the next he’s dead on the floor. You never knew if your ticket was next to be punched.
The mines at least it got him out of the barracks. The envirosuits are hot as hell, and to make matters worse three people share one suit. One per shift. Sure they hose them out between but it doesn’t help. You can still smell the previous people and its still hot and sweaty when you get in.
The work is pure grunt work. Not that he had many complaints on that front, beside the suit. His old man could not creat a more intensive, and sadistic, training regime. He had been forced to learn the breaking point of pure utility and he would not be surprised in the least to discover he’d in fact become stronger then Ryouga. Regardless, it was like the old horror stories of “Battleship Island” all over again.
Everyone was at their breaking point. Some person had even begun sending pamphlets around claiming Ultor was responsible for the plague and that the miners should be ready to revolt. He didn’t know what was going on, but if the shit really hit the fan…
“Looking back, Nerima was looking pretty sweet.
“Work shift ended. Miners in Mine C-4 please return to barracks.”
Ranma shook his head. Great, back to the trash heap. He’s rather keep working in the mines, but the asshole guards said he couldn’t do extra shifts. They might keep their space, but they were still assholes.
With a sigh he began to return to the barracks.
In the corner of his eye, he saw another miner arguing with a guard.
Great, another prick guard. Nothing he could do. He just kept walking.
Bang! Bang!
Ranma flipped around in shock. Gunshots!
The miner was was shot, but the guard was down too, a shiv through his suits neck crease. The guards were just shooting randomly into the miners.
A bullet bounced off the wall next to him, and Ranma ducked behind an out cove for cover.
The shit had hit the fan.
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(Posted Fri, 05 Sep 2003 11:22)
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