The Manumitters
New Mexico was the damndest place, thought Captain-General O’Malley, to hold a market. The market was closing in a couple of hours and O’Malley would be glad to kick the dust of this place off his feet and get somewhere a bit more climate controlled. If he’d had his druthers, they’d have dropped into New York or San Francisco: better selection, as far as O’Malley was concerned.
But beggars can’t be choosers and if the government wanted to throw some life to this old Spaceport America and the surrounding homesteads, then Spaceport America was where they’d go. The Trade happened once a year and if the government told the Martians to show up on the south pole of the sun, well, then the Martians would show. Mars was too small to matter.
O’Malley just wanted to go home; home to where things made sense. He sighed.
“Captain-General, we’ve got problems,” said one his men, pointing to the Security Gate. O’Malley looked over, and even from two hundred meters away, O’Malley instantly recognized the rotund figure negotiating, cajoling and bullying his way past the John Laws and Enforcers manning the gate.
Jebediah.
O’Malley had attended the annual Trade Markets for the past ten years, and every year Jebediah had shown up. First year or two, Jebediah showed up alone; then with his wife; and in the last few years with larger and more boisterous crowds. O’Malley smiled warmly and automatically checked for his combat folder and pistol. Good times, good times, he thought.
“All right, men,” said O’Malley, raising his voice, “let’s get these boxes loaded onto the ship and into the chillers. We blast off in five hours. Every minute after you finish loading is yours to go on down to the market and Trade on your own accounts.” His men cheered; the Company frowned on paying the transportation cost for personal trading, but O’Malley had his own way of keeping his crew motivated. He’d even handed out a few of the gift cards that passed for script on Earth to a few of the newbies on his crew.
O’Malley flipped open his two-way and pressed talk.
“Yeah, baby?” said his wife, from somewhere inside the ship.
“Start the pre-checks, Sally. I want to lift out of here no later than plus five from now. Oh, and Jebediah’s here.”
“Isn’t he late? Oh well, better late than never, I guess. Out.” Sally closed the channel. Sally was never one for words, but boy could she fly a ship.
“O’Maaaalley!” boomed a loud baritone from behind him. O’Malley smiled, put on his game face and turned around.
“Why, Jebediah. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it this year,” said O’Malley. A few of the other Captains-General wandered over to watch the show. They never could figure out why O’Malley even bothered talking to Jebediah.
“Oh, no, I’d protest you and this infernal Trade at the gates of Hell. You and this cursed government of tricksters can’t hide from us!”
O’Malley shrugged: “Well, I don’t know about that. The government tells us where to show and we show. Trust me; I don’t know anything about hiding.”
“Hear that boys?” Jebediah said, turning to the crowd behind him. “This Slaver is the picture of innocence. This Slaver doesn’t know anything about the lying, cheating Machine running our government. This Slaver wants us to trust him! Ain’t that rich, boys.”
Jebediah’s bully boys laughed; O’Malley fumed.
“I ain’t a slaver, Jebediah. You know that.”
Jebediah swung around.
“Really, O’Malley? So what’s in these coolers, O’Malley? Bananas? Produce?”
“It is product, Jebediah, product. Work class biobots. Biological robots, Jebediah,” said O’Malley, as evenly as he could. “Diggers, if you want specifics. Programmed and hardened to work the Martian playa and terraform it, Jebediah. So me and mine can walk outside, one day, without chill suits. So me and mine can feel grass under our feet. So me and mine don’t…ever...have…to…come…back… here…again.”
“Biobots, O’Malley. You see biobots where I see children. Children of Man, O’Malley. Children made from our own genetic stock…” began Jebediah.
“And dogs, cats, chickens and cows.” said O’Malley.
“Children, curse you. Made by man but not to slave for man.”
“Where you see children, Jebediah, I see moist robots. Straight from the Adams Factory floor showroom; hell, they’re not even animated yet, and when they are, they’ll have just enough brain to swing a simple tool. They only look human because it’s functional. They’re not even intelligent!”
“Adam’s will burn in hell, for the things he’s done. And you will join him, O’Malley, if you persist in trading in human flesh.”
“Will it be warm there?” asked O’malley, simply.
“So you got jokes, O’Malley? You joke while decent men can’t keep a homestead because of this Slaving. While the government buys up more and more homesteads and uses these, these, Slaves to work them. You trade in human flesh and you joke, O’malley. The hand of God is going to strike you down on account of your arrogance.” Jebediah lowered his voice.”And who knows what is in these mountains around here, O’Malley? MANPADs, katyushas …”
If it looks like a threat and smells like a threat…O’Malley had his combat folder out and against Jebediah’s throat in an instant.
“There’s an Orion pushing out to Mars tonight. Every Martian here will be on it. If something happens to a one of them, I’m going to find you Jebediah. Find you and burn you.” O’Malley said flatly. Jebediah’s bully boys started mumbling. O’Malley’s fellow Captains-General started to clear their personal space for action. Martians loved a good rumble.
“Put the knife down, Captain-General,” said the calm, authoritative voice of a senior John Law as he walked towards them. The crowd parted before the authority of the John Law. His Enforcers heeled at the outer edges of the crowd, awaiting instruction. O’Malley dropped his knife.
“All right, all right. You Martians go back to your trading. Market closes in four hours and you’ll be blast radius clear in five. Go on about your business,” said the John Law.
Jebediah smirked. The John Law turned on him.
“You get your bully boys into the Protest Cage like we discussed and you’d better hope I don’t lose the key before these Martians blast off. It’s over. Move out,” the John Law barked.
People moved.
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