“ 3 5 5 1 : The Burden Of Earth’s Children. ” Read online

many years after that, it will be the Titanian Collective’s turn to take on some of the burden of Earth’s children.

  The conversion plants came in many different styles and sizes, but they were all generally huge techno-beasts. The smallest model standing at the height of a thousand feet, while the deluxe models reached into the sky at three thousand feet! The height was so that the desalinization plants could tower above the ocean and sea levels, of course depending on where a plant was stationed. Given that the average depth of oceans on Earth before the desalinization era was over 12,000 feet, most of the conversion plants had to be built closer to the continental shelves throughout the planet, where the water level was a lot more shallow. Even for fourth millennium technology, 12,000 feet was simply too steep of a water depth to conquer. However, as the ocean and sea levels gradually shrunk, only then did humans begin to venture out into the middle of the oceans with their desalinization towers.

  The water conversion plants looked a lot like the skyscrapers of old, but with landing platforms sprouting out from their trunks, as it were. The bottom one-third of the plants tended to have intricate conduits and house-sized pipes for vacuuming up the ocean- and seawater.

  After a while the captain finally saw the spaceport with his naked eyes. It looked like a gigantic, soaring architectural column with nodes protruding all around the structure. After the Jorus docked with Solar Port Reckoning, Captain Reinholm ordered his crew to commence with the bureaucracy of tallying the Earthens at the station and had them compare the list with the passengers that lined up to board the ship. The Colonial Collectives and some Earthen governments had worked out a system that whenever a round of Earth immigrants were scheduled to set sail for the solar colonies, all of the tens of thousands of passengers were issued the same-colored jumpsuits that had identification embossed on them. For this particular batch, the color was deep red. It was a way to maintain control over each grouping of immigrants. For one thing, if it so happened that a batch of Earthen immigrants were congregating at one of the solar ports that was close to a city, the immigrants would be easy to spot with the ridiculously bright jumpsuits. It wasn’t the Collective’s nor the Earth-governments’ intentions, but it was almost like the immigrants were criminals among society. A kind of 36th century version of the scarlet letter imprinted on their entire person. On the other hand, the immigrants had to wear the jumpsuits on Earth for just two days, prior to their trip to their new home. Besides, for many others on Earth who had not been chosen by the Earthen-governments’ lottery, many were actually jealous of the immigrants. On many occasions, a few that were chosen by means of the lottery were killed and their assailants had taken their identity…just so they could get off Earth with the hopes that life in one of the Collective Colonies would be more advantageous.

  Another reason why the jumpsuit system worked well was because the Earth governments had manufactured exactly eighty thousand jumpsuits for each immigrant batch. No more, no less. That way Earth-side knew precisely how many were issued for the amount of immigrants scheduled to go to the Collective. The importance of consistency wasn’t just a matter of bean counting. The Earthen governments and the Colonial Collective had to carefully ship the right amount of people over, given how sensitive the nascent biosphere of Europa, Titan, and even Mars were. Of course, the governments had to customize jumpsuits for children or others of unique needs, but in the end the official count was always eighty thousand…officially. This was part of the reason why Captain Reinholm and Commander Kolnan were surprised that one of the Martian ships had transported well over the quota for their trip. It was standard practice that the captains of most ships did not officially complain to the Earth governments upon learning how their colleagues had cheated on their quotas. For most government-employed military people wanted to relieve Earth of some of her children as much as possible, and as soon as possible. Needless to say, scientists from both Earth-side and from the Collective would have different to say.

  As the immigrants walked toward the Jorus, family by family with some individuals straggling in the midst, they all passed through devices that both sanitized them and scanned them for any potential pathogens. Any virus or bacteria found at a significant level within any individual was either irradiated in the system or the individual was pulled from the queue and another would take that person’s place for the migration. That was something none of the captains of any ship would turn a blind eye to!

 

  While the Jorus crew handled the logistics of organizing the loading of the immigrants onto the ship, which was under the charge of Commander Ester Kolnan, Captain Reinholm was escorted into the solar port by armed guards. Earthen guards were also used to watch over the immigrants during those crucial two days prior to sailing Colony-side. Again, too many other citizens of Earth were tempted to kidnap many of the immigrants to escape the conditions on Earth.

  The captain was lead by his escort to the pinnacle of Reckoning where there was a sprawling office over-looking the whole affair of the shipping of the human cargo. The long line of immigrants snaked toward the several gates that lead to the Jorus. Hundreds of years ago, the room was used as the control room for the desalinization process of the Atlantic Ocean. It was now used to control the onslaught of the waves from the sea of humanity headed for the Sol system’s outer settlements. Amidst the workers at their meta-computerized consoles was Majordomo Tenesa Lucindo. She was the ruler—some would say a despotic one—of the nation-continent of Surmerica. In the ancient days, Surmerica was known by its Anglo nomenclature of South America. Since Solar Port Reckoning was situated not far from the Cape Verde Mountains (once considered islands when the Earth had oceans), the solar port was under the jurisdiction of Surmerica. The majordomo was at Reckoning for an inspection of the port and to ensure that the quota for Captain Reinholm’s crew was being maintained…

  “Captain,” Majordomo Lucindo greeted Reinholm as he stood a few feet away from the petite, elder woman.

  “Majordomo,” was all that he reciprocated with a brisk nod of his head. It was no secret that the two did not particularly care for each other.

  Lucindo had finished giving orders to a couple of the workers then gestured to Reinholm that they should walk over to the office that belonged to the director of the spaceport, whom was sent to do other tasks by her highness. The door automatically identified the ruler via biometric technology and opened up as she and the captain entered, then closed afterward.

  “Why did you not tell me of several breaches of the quota by your colleagues,” the de facto queen shot to the captain before the sound of the closing door had even evaporated into the air.

  Stunned, Reinholm simply stood there in the center of the director’s office. “Please, forgive me, your highness, but often we hear rumors from other ships and even from the immigrants themselves. With care I say this, but my job is to command my ship, not to do the work of bureaucrats!”

  “Captain, you and your comrades are bonded by the contract between the Colonies and Surmerica to transport eighty-thousand immigrants. Part of that contract unambiguously states that if one of the commanding officer of any of the contracted vessels comes into knowledge of deliberate disregard of that quota, he or she is required to inform the host-Earthen nation!” The majordomo sliced right through Captain Reinholm’s heart with her burning eyes.

  Alund lowered his head and took a breath before responding. “Yes, but the key phrase from that clause stipulates that the breach must be proven, and of the rumors I’ve heard I could not prove one of them. And if I were to inform your government, you would accuse me of substandard work for not being able to back up my claim of a deliberate disregard of the quota rule!”

  The captain must have had a good point, because Majordomo Lucindo remained silent and slightly nodded her head. If he didn’t know any better, Reinholm could have sworn he saw a
sign of respect on her face.

  “Yes…fair point, Captain. Anyway, that’s not the main reason why I wanted to talk with you.” Reinholm narrowed his eyes for curiosity. She continued. “I’ve been hearing rumors myself, Alund. Disturbing ones. It seems that many of the Colonial Collectives citizens’ hospitality toward their Earthen brethren is beginning to wan…Alund, I need you to be honest with me here.”

  “I always am, madam,” he said with a smirk and a shrug. Captain Reinholm had many occasions when he told the majordomo what he thought of her.

  “Do you know of a conspiracy among some in the Collectives to do—horrid things with some of the immigrants once they’ve arrived there?”

  Again, the captain’s eyes strained as he shook his head. “I don’t understand what you mean, Majordomo.”

  Lucindo sighed and lightly stepped toward a window that displayed the Jorus—at such height on top of the tower, the ship looked to be a toy. Tiny dots moved around and toward the ship. It was the immigrants, looking more like insects than humans; which was an appropriate image for the majordomo at the time,