PLANET: KAL'ON – LINUD LÜNDER
BIETA CITY, BIETA

"I'm gonna' get away from this place some day, you know."

The teenage boy looked up into the sky and said the words countless teens in sleepy little towns have said and thought throughout time immemorial. And just as everyone before him had and everyone after him would, he meant with all his heart, knew without hint of doubt, that he'd go to exotic places and do important things. He was fifteen, after all, and sure of a great many things.

From a distance, he might have been mistaken for someone much older. He didn't have a man's physique and was still trying to grow a mustache, but he wore years on him everywhere. His hair was baked and dusty, his posture sagged under some invisible, oppressive weight, and his skin was deeply tanned, already beginning to wrinkle, droop, and grow leathery. He had all of the beauty of a blown-out tire on the side of a road and none of the nobility.

His friend sat on the ground under the shade of a rare tree as the dust from the almost barren landscape whipped by and stung the little flesh their heavy clothes left exposed. Neither gave any notice to it.

The friend uncorked the large, squat bottle he'd brought with him but waited to drink from it.

"God bless ya', Justin, you was born on this planet the son of a farmer, yo' father was born on this planet the son of farmer. His father was born and died on this planet the son of a farmer, same as his father before him, same as every damn body far back as any body can remember. An' I say planet, but that's just bein' generous," he continued, "You know ain't none of 'em left this goddamn county, neither. You's is gonna' be a farmer just as they is. It's best just to a'cept it now an' move on. Ain't such a bad life, anyhow, that you got to go on and on about how 'you's is gonna' run far, far away,'" he mocked in a falsetto, "like you always does."

The friend took a swig of some vile brew that didn't do much in the way thirst or taste but poured a magic fire down his throat and into his belly. He was also fifteen but muscular and ruggedly handsome, possessing all the pleasurable attributes of youth. He was already shaving regularly, something that irritated the other boy to no end, and had a disarming smile that came without effort. He was attractive in manner, more so than appearance, and his romantic exploits with women even twice his age were commonly known, though he himself refused to either confirm or deny any of it, except when very drunk.

Justin scowled, an expression that made him look even older and more unattractive, but didn't look his friend in the eye. Instead, he preferred to watch the rocket that traced its way up the sky, off into the atmosphere and farther. He imagined himself in one of them, leaving to go away from this place and tour the entire galaxy, from one end to the other… but his friend kept talking.

"An then you's is gonna' get a girl pregnant, prob'ly marry her, have a couple of kids yo'self. You's is gonna' have a son that'll grow up to be a farmer, and a daughter that'll grow up to get pregnant by and marry a farmer. Then you's is gonna' die here. But this ain't so bad a place to live or to die. They's is worse places out there, you know."

Finally Justin gave up his delightful reverie, conceding that for the time being it had been ruined.

"No, I don't know, Dylan. That's just the point," he said, turning back around. "I ain't never been further than twenty kilometers from my own damn house. I come to town with my old man to pick somethin' up, and then I go back and help 'im on the farm. I don't wanna' spend my whole life just goin' back and forth. I don't wanna' spend my life workin' like a dog just to scrape out a livin' on some backward planet, in some backward quadrant, an' end up just another broken down geezer with nothin' to show for it."

"Hell boy, ain't nobody wanna' do that," Dylan agreed as he downed another mouthful of his drink. "If I had my choice, I'd marry some rich little thing in the Central Planets and fuck her day an' night till one of us couldn't take no more an' died. But that ain't gonna' happen, now is it? As it is, we fates is sealed. But they ain't bad fates. I hear o'er in the North Quadrant the damned trolls be bombin' they's own cities for no reason. Hell, total war is goin' on on some planets, pirates is razing cities to the ground, people killin' one 'nother over land and resources. Now tell me, who in they right mind is gonna' come out here? People have trouble makin' enough to feed theyselves. Ain't shit worth takin'. We's is secure. We's is secure, you fucker," Dylan pointed an accusatory finger at Justin, "an' I'll take secure and bored over 'citement and danger every goddamn day of the week. Nothin' gonna happen here, nothin' 'ticularly good, nothin' 'ticularly bad." Dylan took a swig and grinned. "An' nobody from here gonna' do nothin' important, neither."

"Not me," the boy argued stubbornly, "I'm a-gonna' do somethin' with my life."

"Yeah, says you," Dylan laughed.

"Yeah, says me."

Dylan drank, but said nothing more. Justin felt satisfied that he'd won the exchange. They let an awkward silence hover for some time — Dylan drinking, Justin looking at nothing in particular — until someone else broke it for them.

"Come on, boy," a man called out to Dylan as he threw a sack into the back of his truck. "We's'd better be gettin' on home, lest yo' momma have my ass for messin' around in town too long again. And you's better drink the rest a' that fo' we get home, ya hear? You know she don' like it when you drink in front a' her. An' when momma ain't happy…"

"…Ain't nobody happy," Dylan finished as he got up and jumped into the back of his dad's truck next to the sack. "Later, Justin."

Dylan's father walked around to the driver's side of the truck, but before he got in, Justin started walking up toward him.

"Uh, Mister Rhodes, you seen my old man in there?" Justin asked uncomfortably. Dylan's father glanced back at Justin before facing away again.

"Well, yeah, I seen 'im. Listen boy, you's best find yo'self some place to wait fo' a while. He prob'ly gonna' be a long time comin'."

The words proved all too true. The sun had already sunk far behind the horizon when Justin's father finally came out of the same all-purpose store as Mr. Rhodes had, staggering. Unlike Dylan's father, he had nothing in his hands except a bottle half full of liquor.

"Gawddamn thieves in this town, boy, a buncha gawddamn thieves," his father slurred as he slowly made his way over to the tree Justin had been dozing under, "Did I ever tell you how—"

His father missed a step and fell on the ground hard, vomiting. Justin sighed, knowing where most of the harvest money had gone and knowing better than to say anything about it. Instead, he helped his father up and started walking them toward the truck.

"Yeah, I know. Come on Pa, I'll drive."

Three standard years passed rather quickly, and the boy named Justin grew into a man under the eyes of the local law. His appearance and mannerisms still reflected that of an eighty-year-old child, but he was eighteen, an adult now. For some time already, he'd had the responsibilities of an adult. Justin's father had injured one of his legs almost two years ago, crippling it. Only now could he walk on it again but he still couldn't put full weight on it or do any kind of manual labor. Justin had had to take over for his father and provide for his mother and two younger brothers, still too young to be of any use yet. The crops sustained them and with a little more left over that they could sell in order to buy other goods, but they were destitute. And it was up to Justin to try to do something about it since apparently no one else could.

He was currently driving into town to see what he could get with their latest harvest, though he didn't have much hope in it. Prices continued to go down even as the drought in his region continued to go on. The tralfur plant was hardy, but it still needed some water to grow, and they didn't have the money for anything but what they could pull out of the ground, which wasn't much. As it was, his crop size was smaller than it should have been and sickly looking to boot. He'd take whatever offer was given to him without hesitation. Only idiots tried to haggle in Bieta.

A year ago he'd been such an idiot, and the buyer had simply sent him away without anything at all. When he'd told his father, his dad had almost killed him for it. Justin was far from the only farmer having troubles, and everyone was desperate to get some credits. The buyers knew it, too. His father had tried to help him some in the beginning, but now the old man spent all of his time drinking and gambling, bedding whores if he happened to win a few hands. Justin would give his father a little bit of money and tell him it was all he'd received for the crop, maybe his father would hit him a couple of times for not bringing back more. Then Justin would watch the useless fuck go into town and piss it all away in one way or another. Justin kept most of the money to himself because he knew he couldn't trust his mother with it, either; she'd tell his father the second he threatened her or the other boys. All she ever did was take care of those two, so Justin had to do everything. He hated it. He hated all of them. His worthless father, his spineless mother, and the two hungry mouths that contributed nothing and took everything. He was lucky his father had even brought the truck back in time for him to take it to town today.

"I'm gonna' get away from this place someday," he repeated aloud for thousandth time, almost like a ritual now. Fuck these people, he thought, fuck all them. Someday I'm gonna' be important and rich, and all these faggots are gonna' talk about how they used to know me way back when.

Those thoughts gave him some comfort and put a smile on his face as he continued his drive. Thinking about his marvelous imaginary life far away, the trip seemed to take less time than he'd anticipated.

Just when he started thinking about how he would heroically stop a space pirate raid all by himself (and how all of the women who would show their appreciation for him) a real woman walked in front of the path of his car. He mashed the brake pedal to the floorboard and nearly went through his windshield while the woman screamed and threw up her hands, dropping the bag of food she'd had. Justin was breathing heavily from shock and panic, and as he looked up he saw the woman he'd nearly hit was in much the same shape. Almost immediately, the shock wore off.

"What in the hell do you think you're doin' jumpin' out in front of my car like that?" he demanded.

"What in the hell do you think you're doin' goin' through a black light like that? Cain't you see the fuckin' thing right in fronta ya, you blind bastard?" she screamed back at him before looking down at the food that had spilled out of her bag. "Do you have any idea how much all that shit fuckin' cost me you cocksuckin' prick?"

He was taken back. In this area, women swearing was common enough, but he'd never seen one do it so pissed off, and directed at him. Justin took the opportunity her question gave him to study her a little more closely.

She was closer to a girl than a woman, couldn't be older than twenty, and not bad looking at all, though her figure was considerably hidden by the practical, loose fitting desert dress common to the area. She certainly wouldn't win any real beauty contest, but hell, short of the titty magazines and a couple of the whores, she was the best looking thing he'd ever seen. And he didn't recognize her from anywhere before.

As he looked back over his shoulder, he saw that indeed he had just run a black light. It had turned back to white which meant that when he'd gone through it, there hadn't even been a blinking white light warning him it was about to change. Luckily it was getting close to evening and it was a "nothing street," so there weren't any other vehicles behind or coming at him, otherwise he would have been guilty of disrupting traffic in addition to almost committing vehicular manslaughter.

"Aw shit," he muttered after he realized she was right. "Uh, Miss, I'm mighty sorry about that. I don't know where my head was."

"Maybe if you pulled your head out your ass you'd drive better. 'Sorry' ain't gonna' bring my food back now, is it?" she said.

"Listen, I'm sorry I ruined most your food—and I know just sayin' it won't get it back," he added quickly," so if you'll let me, I'll try to make it up to you on account it was all my fault, anyhow."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Howdaya mean by 'I'll try to make it up to you'?" she asked.

"Well, to tell you the truth I can't make no promises, but dependin' on how this here sells," he jerked a thumb toward the truckbed, "I'll try to buy you as much food as I can to replace what you lost there. I know times is tough on everyone 'round here, 'cept the Man himself, so it's only right I help ya' out much as I can. I hope it wasn't much, 'cause like I said, times is tough, and I sure as hell can't afford to pay for much. I can't afford to pay for any of it, actually," he frowned as he spoke the last sentence under his breath.

Thinking back later, he'd admit that he'd allowed his lower brain to do his thinking for him in this instance, but his opinion on how that had turned out for him would be decidedly mixed as he looked back on it periodically throughout his life.

She agreed to let him try to pay for some of the ruined food, and he told her to meet him at the all-purpose store in two hours after he finished what he had to do. After parking his truck next to the produce side and waiting in line for an hour and a half, the buyer for his tralfur paid Justin about what he'd expected, which was unfortunately still quite low. He took the measly credits he'd been paid, and with a half-hearted "thank you," headed over to the bar section of the all-purpose store.

The store stood near the center of the town of Bieta and wasn't difficult to locate. It was easily largest structure in the town and the Man who owned it was by far the wealthiest and most successful individual in the area. People like Justin's father came in from the farms surrounding the town and spent most of the money they got from their crop directly back to the store through drinks. It was no accident that the gambling section of the store stood directly beside the bar, either. Professional card players employed by the house won almost all of the gambling money going around, though it seemed no one ever caught on. Perhaps the alcohol aided in this, as well. These two methods, drinks and card games, worked well on passer-bys, too, but the whores were the main draw for travelers. Ten credits for a room for the night, fifteen for a room with a girl in it. And some of the girls actually looked pretty, especially after an evening spent at the bar.

Most everything coming in or going out of the town passed through the all-purpose store at some point. Books, clothes, tralfur, visuals, audios, and pretty much anything else a paying customer could want. The store received all of the money for things people needed to live and no matter the prices, people paid. It had no competition, after all. The rest of the town was almost insignificant. Some small houses were still legally occupied by a few people, almost all of whom were employed by the all-purpose store. An assortment of abandoned buildings, leftover from when the town's short period of rapid growth had abruptly stopped, also marked the city and gave it the appearance of being larger than it really was. People from failed farms occasionally drifted into town and squatted in some of them, but nobody wanted to stay long, not in Bieta. There were many useless roads now, nicknamed "nothing streets" because there was nothing of any worth on them, but the traffic system was still in working order all around town, something else that was sure to break to break down soon, people said.

Several times the bartender asked Justin if he wanted something, to which Justin replied no, he was waiting on someone. Unstated but obvious by his appearance was that he had no money to spend on beverages. Justin's elderly face was further lined by the weariness of a full day's work almost completed. As almost an hour ticked by, the bartender hinted not-so-subtly that if Justin didn't order something fast, he'd be removed and be made to remember the store didn't appreciate non-paying customers. Justin caved in at the threat but waited a few seconds before he got up to leave, attempting to save his pride. As he did, he saw the girl come in and he found himself quite happy to see her.

"What took ya' so long?" he asked, probably sounding a bit more anxious than he'd intended. His suddenly dry throat and quickening pulse didn't do much to help him hide his excitement. From the truck he'd noticed she was pretty, but being this close to her and out of the dusty wind, the effect was much more pronounced. Her features were too soft for this place, and her blonde hair and blue eyes marked her as different, like she didn't belong here. She was exotic, and it was hard to keep from gawking. She smiled.

"I had to salvage all I could of the food you ruined. You should be happy anyways; I saved your ass some money, at least," she said as she sat down on the stool next to where he'd been. She sounded sincere, even if it was obvious to him she wasn't serious. He sat back down next to her.

"Yeah, well I appreciate that, kindly, I really do," Justin said with forced nonchalance. "Now, exactly whaddaya need so I can figure what I can pay of it."

"Crop ain't doin' real good?" she said as she tapped on bar for a drink and whispered something to the bartender.

"Hell, crop ain't never doin' real good, I don't think," he answered. "That ain't the problem. Problem's that it ain't doin' good a'tall these days. Shit, I'd be happy if my pa'd get off his drunk ass to help me once in a while, but that's about as likely as all us getting killed in a flood, I figure. Nah, I'm doin' okay, but I kinda figured that at eighteen I'd be off on my way to be bein' somebody already, or at the very least helpin' my pa with things, 'stead of doin' it all my own self."

"That's too bad. Still, dependin' how you look at it, everything you do is helpin' you on your way to bein' somebody, ain't it?" she asked, already finishing off her first glass and tapping on the table for another as the empty one's ice clinked around.

"Damn woman, slow down. I thought you needed food. How you gonna' pay for all those?"

"I think what you mean to say is how're you gonna' pay for all those," she corrected, taking a new bottle from the bartender, "I changed my mind about the food, no harm done. Ain't nothin', really. Like I told you, I saved most of it, and the rest, well, 'Why eat when you can drink?' I always say."

He watched her chug the rest of the second glass and start tapping on the table before she was even done. He'd drank plenty of times before, he remembered getting good hungover before he was ten, but he'd never actually drank at the bar before. That was the place good-for-nothing sons of bitches like his father went to drown themselves when they should have been doing real work somewhere. But watching her throw back one after another like that without worry or doubt, somehow his prejudices about the place started to just disappear, and he thought nothing more about his previous misgivings for the rest of the night. There was something charming about her, doing that like it was nothing it all. Not exactly something that made her look elegant, but it was cute. He tapped on the bar for a drink of his own, but before he got anything the bartender made him pay all the credits he owed up to that point and a few more in advance.

After a while he lost count of how many beers he'd had, and there was no way he could keep count of how many the girl had finished. It took almost half an hour for them to both realize they didn't know one another's names. He introduced himself as Justin Bailey, and filled in some of the history of his life he hadn't included before. With each gulp, the willingness to share even the most ridiculous parts of his life became stronger while the words became increasingly difficult for him to get out without slurring, and probably even worse to understand. A few after that and he didn't care anymore.

He spoke at length about how he was going to become an important person someday, and how the entire galaxy would be thankful to him for the things he'd do. He was destined for great things.

When he finally rambled to a finish, the girl introduced herself as Jennifer Reese (call her Jenny), just another big girl trying to make her way in this little galaxy. Her father had been a space pilot, but she'd never met him because he'd stopped seeing her mother after she'd gotten pregnant with Jenny, and she'd never seen space outside of her mother's belly since. Jenny's mom settled with her in another county until about a year ago when her mom had gotten married, then Jenny had decided come to the "big city" (they both had a laugh at that) to see if she could stay with her aunt who lived here.

Unfortunately when she'd arrived, she'd found her aunt to be in poor health and Jenny's plans had been sidetracked. A short time ago, the aunt had finally died, but all of Jenny's funds were tapped out by then, so she was kind of stuck. Eventually she'd land a job at the Store and save up enough to get a ticket back to her home or maybe even offplanet.

At that, Justin joked that if she wanted the money fast, she could always turn to whoring. Jenny threw back her head and laughed far too noisily, disturbing some of the other drunks sitting nearby. By this time they were both too far gone to care about other people or even notice that they had become annoying.

Perhaps it was the natural course of the night's events, or perhaps it was that comment. One can never know for sure why things happen they way they do, only that they do happen, and sometimes even that is in doubt. But it is certain that Jenny stood up and began moving toward the stairs to the upper rooms. She started walking backwards and beckoned Justin in a manner that would have been seductive, had she not tripped over a chair and fallen onto the floor. She started laughing and he came over to help her, asking what she was doing. She announced rather loudly that she was going up to the rooms to fuck someone, and if he played his cards right, he might just be that guy. She burst into laughter again, even as she had to use him to stand herself up.

"I may not have had the money to buy you food or us drinks," he answered, "but I really don't have the money to pay for that."

He wouldn't remember saying that later, nor would he remember her response to it, but he would remember slapping down ten credits — he was just paying for a room, after all, even if he was bringing a whore with him, the manager finally decided — and starting the long, arduous journey to the second floor.

He'd consumed far too much alcohol for the night and found himself unprepared for such an encounter. Even with the rail, it was a miracle they both made it up the stairs without falling back down and breaking their necks. They eventually found a room that didn't have the sound of metallic squeaks coming from it and decided to try it. Getting the door to open was a challenge unto itself, but he succeeded, and they went inside.

Clumsily he undressed, and if he'd been aware of his surroundings he would have known Jenny was doing the same and having some of the same difficulties. He would also have noticed the horrendous conditions of the room. A careful and sober study of the bed would have found it to still be wet from the various bodily fluids of last couple or two to have occupied it, the floor crawling with small insects. The bathroom was covered in all manner of grime and dried vomit, but even if they had noticed, they probably wouldn't have minded. Before they left, both added more than their share to the mess.

He was stuck on the buttons to his shirt for several minutes before he finally got them figured out, and he was suddenly quite proud of himself. His incredible nervousness at this event was considerably dulled by his intoxication, but it was still there. His breath kept catching in his lungs and his heart continued to attempt to bang itself out of his chest. He was totally inexperienced at this type of thing; he hadn't really had a chance to touch a woman romantically, but he'd waited almost his whole life for it. This was it. This was his moment. This was the day to prove all of those masturbatory fantasies true and show what a natural stud he was, just as he knew he'd always been.

Unfortunately, he was already off to a bad start in this area. Even looking at the very attractive naked woman lying on the bed waiting for him and knowing what he planned to do to her, he found it hard to get or keep an erection. She laughed at him, something which definitely didn't make things any easier. He tried to fondle himself for a short time, doing what had worked countless times in the privacy of his own home, but got nowhere and only succeeded to amuse her more. The cruel irony was that he had always found erections to arrive far too frequently at the most inconvenient and awkward of situations. Now when he needed one most, his most dependable friend was failing him.

He gave up on it and climbed in bed with her, hoping some foreplay would help him rise to the occasion. He looked over her naked body, and started to touch her. His calloused, uncertain hands could do nothing to draw out any pleasure from her body. The next morning she'd awake to find her breasts bruised and sore, her skin scratched and raw, but all of the effort was for nothing. His fingers, mouth, and tongue were unable to awake the slightest passion in her, no matter how earnest his manipulation of her genitals was. Just the opposite, it irritated her. Frustrated, she pushed him out of the way and let her fingers do the job herself, instead. Later he would rationalize that she was as drunk as he was, if not more, so her share of his failure had to be put squarely on her own shoulders as well. At that moment, however, his shame was almost unbearable.

After ten minutes or so of this embarrassment, semi-masturbation with a failed participant-turned-observer, he did gain an erection at last. That as big as it's gonna' get? she asked him, without apparent malice and the more wounding for it. He tried to ignore the comment and climbed on top of her, almost knocking the wind out of her when his knee slipped. He recovered and got himself into position, yet still he was unable to do the thing right. After much failure to find the proper spot, she cursed him in a number of colorful phrases, grabbed him, and guided him into her herself.

Oh, but all feelings of shame and apprehension disappeared as soon as he felt her squeeze him inside her. Then, he was in business, thrusting away, madly. Oh yeah, baby, oh yeah. Do you like that? Oh yeah baby, there you go. There you—

Then it was over.

Angrily and in defiance of his body, he tried to keep going, but he quickly went completely flaccid and it was no good at all. Worse, she knew it. She shoved him off her irritably and rolled to the other side of the bed to do the job he'd barely started. She made sure he was aware of this fact several times, in fact. Ashamed and defeated, he rolled to the edge of the bed, curled himself into a ball, and went to sleep.

Luckily, he wouldn't remember much of that night, the one blessing the alcohol granted him out of all of it.

Justin woke up the next morning to find several large men with sledgehammers pounding on his skull with intent to kill. Or at least that's what it felt like. He was nauseated, and the light streaming in through the window made everything worse. Dawn had finally broken and him with it. He hugged the toilet for several miserable minutes until he had nothing left to throw back up. He gathered up his clothes as quickly and quietly as he could, partly to avoid disturbing Jenny from her sleep, and mostly so he wouldn't have to face her. He snuck out the door and crept down the stairs, ignoring everyone else in the store until he got to his truck. It started up, and he headed home.

The ride jolted him many times, and didn't improve his condition or disposition. Neither did the view. Sand in every direction, unheeded even by the horizon. It traced its way up the sky like wispy brown clouds, but they would bring no comfort or rain. Justin could feel the dust suffocating his life. He'd seen the old men, been forced to visit elderly friends of the family. One day he'd find himself there, surrounded by people who felt nothing but pity for him. Wake up to find his lungs full of dirt and he'd start coughing up blood, unable to get out of bed without feeling unbearable pain. Then one day he wouldn't be able to get out of bed at all. If he stayed here... No way. No way in hell. After the previous night, he was even more determined to get off the planet for good. And everybody he left behind? Fuck 'em.