In spite of what the junior citizens of Nast Central were led to believe, the cities of Nast were not the last lone outposts of civilization in a hostile universe. At this late date—eleven centuries after humans first set foot on Earth’s only natural moon—there were five cities of Nast dotting the northern hemisphere of Venus, as well as eight other cities with which the cities of Nast had precious little contact.
At least, contact that the People of Nast knew much about.
But the contact existed. That much Hoyle was certain of. He even knew the names of some of the cities. One of them—Marino—was the planet’s major spaceport, and there was a tube run from East Nast that brought cargo in and took minerals and manufactured goods out.
“You’re telling me Marino is a place, not a person?”
“Yes.”
“And you think we should go there.”
“We? Why we? You’re the one talking about running.”
“You’re the one who said you don’t want to go to South Nast.”
“Nobody wants to go to South Nast. Haven’t you heard the stories...”
“What do you think I am, an idiot?”
“You don’t get on that bus heading south at the end of the semester you are.”
Ern shrugged. “Okay, so we work for French until we have to go.”
Hoyle shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter. Everything? All of this?” Hoyle waved his hands as if to encompass the whole world. “It’s all just one big prison. And they’ve kept us prisoner since we were born. Say we did go to Marino. We probably wouldn’t know the language. If we did, we wouldn’t know the rules. We could never come home.”
“Who wants to come home?”
“And what if it’s worse than here?”
Ern grumbled. “Nothing can be worse than here.”
Hoyle shook his head. “Things can always get worse.”
“What crawled up your ass and died?”
“I’m just sayin’.
“Fine. What do you think we should do?”
“We? Ern, boy, I’m going home. I got no reason to run. You don’t either. I reckon we both oughta go back home and forget any of this ever happened. We go to South Nast, we take our licks, we keep our noses clean so we can get brought back for second-round reproductive duty...”
“Okay okay okay fine. Let’s say you’re right. You’ve heard what they do to the new guys in South Nast?”
“Me? I never hear anything. I’m a good male citizen.” Hoyle’s tone was effete.
Ern burst out laughing. “I never heard anything either, officer. But think, just think...what if WHAT IF we went to South Nast with enough money to set ourselves up there?”
“How do we keep ahold of it?”
Ern cocked his head. “We just gotta keep it under our hats.”
It took some doing, but in the end Ern did convince Hoyle.
Getting back, though, proved to be a problem.
The whole city was locked down. Emergency curfew. Armed CARE associates patrolled the streets on foot, so Ern and Hoyle tried to go around the perimeter, outside the city, staying out of view, but after a while they both needed a toilet, so they were forced back inside the line. They scurried between doorways, doing their best to hide their presence from the foot patrols—not easy to do when their footfalls clacked on the cobblestone streets.
The soles of their transit shoes were manufactured by the Council’s Safety Committee. Ern wondered if, maybe, they didn’t need to clop on the stone. Maybe they were designed to be loud so CARE could keep track of everyone.
It wasn’t the first thought like this Ern had had in the last few days, and he was very, very frightened that it wouldn’t be the last.
Hoyle’s home was closest. They were able to stop there. Ern stayed in the transit shower while Hoyle went inside and packed a few things. Better that way, in case Hoyle’s mother was home. He used the drain while he had a chance.
After ten minutes, the inner door opened. Hoyle stepped through, school rucksack slung over his shoulder, his finger to his lips.
“Wait outside,” he mouthed.
Ern nodded and zipped his transit suit up, then reached for his helmet. He just made it through the front door when he heard the internal door open again, so he ducked to the side and squatted with his back to the front wall. If Molly—Hoyle’s mother—came through, he’d be out of view.