Breaking Ranks

Braun: Working People

Deck B2

Port Agricultural Section of the Tranquility

"We don't want the locals figuring out where we're coming from," said the trader with an air of mystery. He was a shady sort by the name of Oliver and it was taking all I had to stay subservient and complacent to this underdecker.

"Ah!" I replied, as though he had said something interesting. Everyone knew it was best to keep the passengers ignorant of the Journey, and so even in the age of turmoil we were in all upperdeckers made sure to not use the most direct route from the elevators. They would, of course, have made that very clear to any traders privileged enough to traffic in our feces. Oliver hadn't asked any questions about me; no doubt content with the few words about a "favor" Chief Ackerman was cashing in on.

I supposed dung haulers were more ignorant than most, about as low a caste as one could get, I mused as the cart trundled along. Oliver seemed influential enough, one of the privileged few allowed to trade with the Engineering Section. An hour ago he had greeted a passing noble in absurd metal armor with an easy familiarity. Traders were exalted, and even a dirty worker like myself would receive at least a degree of courtesy.

I had jotted down a quick description of the man in my data slate once the noble had passed. He seemed a knight or someone of little importance, but Chief Ackerman had drilled into me the fact that every little bit of information mattered. He had plans, Ackerman did, an ambitious man who would not be cooped up in his own Engineering sub-section for long.

The path to winning control of the Bridge lay through the ship's food supply, he had confided to me. Yes, the Chief was an ambitious man, and if I could make myself useful enough to be his right hand-

The cart bounced over a rock and I winced as the waste containers slopped beside me.

"How much longer?" I asked myself, but the trader must have heard me, because Oliver turned back from his cart horse to look past the waste containers.

"Oh, we're here," Oliver replied. I was facing backwards, sharing the cart with the slopping containers of human excrement, and I had already grown tired of the company. I leaned over precariously just as we hit a big thump. The sloshing of the container next to me was extremely distressing, but it soon settled down. The cart slowed and came to a halt, but I had hopped off before it stopped completely.

Oliver was hailing a farmer now, and the man seemed eager to see him. I stayed apart, and though I overheard the two talking there was nothing of any interest. Eventually one of the farm hands made his way over to me and I gave him a weary nod which he returned.

What an unusual day it had been!

I had begun the morning on leave at my parents' family berthing before heading in for the intelligence briefing. I was ending it now in a muddy field with a laborer and as far as any observer could have told we were equals.

Once the deal was struck, Oliver and the farmer wheeled the cart over freshly seeded fields. The trader stepped aside to watch as a skinny laborer with a bulbous nose hopped up next to me. Oliver was a man perhaps in his late forties, although the passengers seemed to age faster, more exposed as they were to radiation and the like.

The farmer urged his plow horse forward and guided the cart along the fields as the laborer and I carefully tilted the wretched contents to spill out along the field. I could barely keep myself from retching but the laborer seemed completely at peace. He even gave me a grin as we bobbed and bounced along.

"This will get us quite the crop!"

I nodded gamely, trying to breathe out of my mouth. I suppose it would help them a bit but as far as the Engineering Section was concerned we just wanted it gone. Truth be told, I had even forgotten our Recycling Tank hadn't been working before this assignment. What kind of person bothered thinking about boring topics like sanitation?