I am Gideon: Chapter #12

How I Learned About Outer Space.

I knew it was there, of course — outer space. I knew the big haulers came in from Equus and the other affined planets. Some of those people on those haulers had come to visit my mother…and me…but I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that people *left* from here and went out there.I waited tables for a week while the big haulers were in, and I caught snatches of conversations. I learned that Equus was the powerhouse planet, the most powerful in the Seventh Galactic Alliance. That the man who had been kind to me was an Amberian. That the table of lank-haired men with sharp eyes and suspicious mouths were Tarkelians, and I should be wary.

Azar stood at my shoulder when we had a quiet moment and pointed around the room.

Most notable: a table of Equi, most likely unloading phaselus or grain on their way to Calumet to bring back much-prized Calumet mahogany or fine wood for the Great House. They were tall, broad-shouldered and slim in the hips, with long legs, olive skin, and glossy black hair. Their ears were slightly overlarge and curled almost like horns against their heads. They were quiet and very clean compared to some of the other patrons. They were pleasant enough, if preoccupied, and if they noticed me hanging around in the background, they didn’t say anything.

A table of Declivians and Demetrians — them, I recognized. What they were hauling was of no interest to me; the fact that Declivians left here and went out into space as a job — not just an adventure, a job — fascinated me. I was fourteen years old and I’d never left the city I was born in. Never seen the countryside. Never even seen the stars except in pictures.

A table of Terrenes and Coronians, boisterous and good-natured. They, too, were hauling grain from Demeter to Declivis, then returning to Demeter — they were Short Haulers. Back and forth. “You should come with us. See trees and green grass and get off this cesspit of a planet,” one of them joked, and Azar scowled.

“You better not try stealing my right-hand-man,” he smiled, but I caught a look from him that said he was not joking.

“You could be with us instead of that grumpy old fart,” one of the Coronians laughed. “Grab your birth certificate and your flying papers and meet us outside.”

Azar jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Don’t you have dishes to do?” he said.

I stood, up to my elbows in hot water and mused. If I had a birth certificate and flying papers, I could…go. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it certainly had allure. Of course, I had no birth certificate. I didn’t even know what that was.

When we were closed for the night, the bar and tables were wiped down, the dishes were done, and the upstairs patrons were off to bed, I sat down with Azar and asked, “What is a birth certificate?”

Azar looked startled. “You don’t have a birth certificate?”

I’d asked the wrong thing. I could see it on his face, but it was too late to turn back now. “I don’t,” I admitted. “Do I need one?”

“You’re supposed to have one to work here,” Azar said quietly. “I should have checked.”

I felt the blood draining from my face.

“So, I guess we’d better get you one,” he said, and I breathed again. There was a pause. “Is anybody going to come looking for you, Boy?”

“I seriously doubt that,” I muttered.

“Well then, I know a woman two streets over who can turn you into anybody you’d like to be. Is your last name really Ing?”

I shrugged. “No. A friend said I could borrow it if I needed it.”

“You’ll need it,” he affirmed. “I’ll pay, but you’ll have to pay me back.”

“Deal,” I said.

Image Credit: Sage Hollis