We Lost Earth

By Bennie Grezlik

Gate World is connected to Earth through a star gate in geosynchronous orbit. The Gate World colony produces amboria, an invaluable mineral for Earth, so Earth treats the dictatorship in the colony as a resource, ignoring brutal suppression of human rights. Anything is tolerated to get the amboria. A young woman leads a revolution that literally severs ties with Earth by destroying the star gate. Gate World is now free but the colony almost dies without external support. This is a story of courage, sacrifice, and the ultimate test of human endurance, first against a ruthless dictatorship, then against nature itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bennie Grezlik
• Release date: Dec 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310103360

Bennie Grezlik

Bennie Grezlik has been writing and publishing lies since 1978. In the last few years, Stonegarden.net has released three of his novels, the latest being The Search For Earth. He has written stories for a number of anthologies, the most notable being a series of zombie tales for Yard Dog Press. He also wrote and produced for about five years the Skip Thruster, Space Detective plays that were brought to life for ApolloCon by enthusiastic actors, otherwise known as fans. Skip Thruster radio plays were first aired on KPFT, Houston.In another life back in the psychedelic sixties, Bennie was a technician at the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston from 1966, through 1969. You read that title correctly. This was before the center was named for its mentor, Lyndon B. Johnson. And, yes, Bennie used a slide rule because it was sexy and because it was B.C. (Before Calculators).

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jo Youngblood smiled at the screaming, cursing crowd around her. Human emotion in the 24th century on Gate World was no different from what it was in the 1st century on Earth. When the crowd smelled blood, any time, any place, it went crazy. Jo thought of it like an equation; blood equals crazy crowd equals money.

Real blood spattered everyone in the expensive seats, including Jo. Most ringsiders reveled in the sordid shower. Jo tried to ignore the red spots that speckled her white sequined suit and smiled harder. As the eccentric owner of the zombie Killer Kain, cleaning bills would be beneath her notice.

Jo projected an uncommon poise, especially for an eighteen year-old Eugene. She made no attempt to hide her holed earlobe as she casually fluffed her perfectly layered flame-red hair; hiding your left earlobe would be trying to pass. She noticed that a few admiring fans tore their gazes away from the mayhem in the ring to steal a glance at her.

The fight worried her. Killer Kain was beating the holy hell out of his opponent (she had to look at her program to remember the opponent zombie's name - Dead Zone - what kind of a fight name was that?). She wanted Killer Kain to win, of course, but he was getting cocky, which was not zombie-like at all. Damn it, she would have to chew him out again.

She began to study the performance in earnest. Killer had sliced Dead Zone a number of times with his short sword. That's where all the blood came from. None of the wounds was deep enough to cut a tendon, which was a credit to Killer - can't have the fight end too quickly - but on the other hand, Killer had not let Dead Zone's cat-o'-nine-tails touch him even once. That was bad. It looked phony.

Swinging his cat-o'-nine-tails overhead, Dead Zone circled Killer. Both combatants held their shields chest high, ready for any blow. Dead Zone carried a knife in his teeth. Jo surmised that his program would direct him to drop the showy but ineffective cat-o'-nine-tails when (and if) he cornered his opponent, then the teeth would yield the knife for the coup de grâce. The programmer must have been high on Happy Daze.

Killer waltzed the ring with Dead Zone, occasionally flicking his sword past the sluggish shield to draw a new trickle of blood. Then he started aiming his thrusts at Dead Zone's mouth. He finally hit the knife and knocked it from the zombie's mouth. Dead Zone, now with a bleeding mouth, kept circling and swinging the silly cat-o'-nine-tails. Jo wondered if his program had jammed into a recurring loop. The only suspense remaining was whether Killer could suppress a smirk. He could not. The booing started.

Through her smile and clenched teeth, Jo hissed, You're screwing up, Lennie.

Dead Zone's owner jumped up and shouted at the referee, who lounged against the ropes outside the ring. He can't do that to my zombie! Ref, get your butt in there and do something.

I don't see no violation, growled the referee.

Open your eyes and look at the way this guy is strutting. And he's smirking! That ain't no zombie!

Sit down, pal. I'm not goin' in there because I only got light armor. Besides, you can't stop a fight just on an accusation. The referee motioned to a security guard in the aisle. Watch him.

Dead Zone's owner threw up his hands in disgust.

The exchange produced a short term effect as Killer became almost comically mechanical. Jo couldn't figure out if he was really that dumb or if he was now mocking Dead Zone's owner. Then Killer bent low and dropped his shield long enough to tempt Dead Zone into a lunge. Killer easily side-stepped the charge and slashed Dead Zone's thighs from the side and back. He must have cut tendons and muscle that time because the zombie tumbled to the canvas. Killer jumped on his back with a choke hold, but Dead Zone shook him off and caught Killer in a bear hug. They rolled to the edge of the ring on Jo's side. The zombie's muscles trembled to maintain a grip on Killer, who had freed his sword hand and worked the blade up to the zombie's throat. Dead Zone's head hung over the side of the ring with blood from his mouth trickling across his ears and those strangely unseeing eyes staring straight at Jo.

Jo looked into those eyes for a sign. Blocking out the roar of the crowd, she listened for a silent scream of terror, or a sigh of resignation, or the tranquility of peace. She had tried to hear the thoughts of zombies before without success, and it was the same now. There was nothing in the eyes, nor behind the eyes.

The crowd screamed; some held their thumbs down, but the majority pointed thumbs up and booed. Whether it was genuine empathy for Dead Zone, or frustration at the brevity of the battle, Jo could not tell.

Dead Zone's owner rushed over and grabbed Killer's sword hand.

This man is a fraud!

Leggo my hand and get outta here, you wacko, said Killer.

Jo rolled her eyes. The referee sauntered over. You're obstructing a fight, pal.

I can prove it, yelled the owner. Look at his cranial stitches.

So?

The owner rubbed his hand on Killer's head as Killer tried to squirm away. He held his hand up for everyone to see the black smears. These stitches are painted on! Stop this fight! I'm going to sue everybody in sight. My zombie has been mauled by a normal man!

A menacing roar began in the crowd nearest the ring and quickly spread to the farthest corner.

Killer finally disentangled himself from the weakening zombie and stood tall, his sword held high. Jo buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. The crowd spat venom. Fake! Phony! You're not a zombie! We want our money back!

What does it matter? yelled Killer. Wasn't I good?

People rose from their seats. Someone threw a bottle into the ring. People poured into the aisles.

Jo elbowed her way to the ring and climbed inside. Lennie, put the sword down and shut up. I'll handle this. She held up a wad of credits. Money! she screamed, and kept screaming until everyone's eyes were on her.

Everyone gets their money back.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

You get your money back and a bonus, too!

She threw the wad of bills high into the crowd. There was dead silence for a moment as the wad arched overhead, then broke apart. Bills fluttered down in a hundred places. Pandemonium returned as the crowd dove for bills.

Jo spotted the arena manager pushing his way through the crowd toward them. You have to pay for these broken seats, he yelled.

My zombie is dying. I want compensation, wailed Dead Zone's owner.

Jo leaned over to Lennie. Meet you at the locker.

Jo jumped from the ring and ran up an aisle on the opposite side from the melee without looking back. She found an emergency door and ducked into an alley. Now on the streets, she felt a sense of urgency to get far away from the arena. The manager almost certainly had called the cops, which meant there wasn't a second to spare. She stripped off the rented suit and chucked it into a garbage can. As was her usual precaution for such emergencies, beneath the suit she had worn shorts and a halter, perfectly reasonable garb for the steamy inner city of Port Elysium. She scaled the fence at the end of the alley, then cut through several more alleys. Within minutes, she was blocks away from the fight arena, and none too soon; she could hear the police siren.

She cautiously made her way through the crowded nightlife of Port Elysium, sticking to side streets and alleys and avoiding main thoroughfares. Near the sex shop district, an Earth tourist with Happy Daze eyes tried to proposition her. He was so high that she could have easily led him into an alley and rolled him, but that wasn't her style. She pushed him in the direction of one of the cheap zombie sex parlors and sped on her way.

She wished she could do something to disguise her hair, but there was no time for that. When she reached the bus transit station near the shuttle port she thumbed open a locker near the rest room and retrieved her shoulder bag. She went into the rest room and dug into the bag for a comb. Before her fingers found the comb, they embraced the familiar form of her book, Field Guide to the Snakes of Elysium, and she felt reassured.

Elysium had been the original name for Gate World, but it never stuck. The only remnant of the first chosen name for the planet was the capital city of Port Elysium, and a few old books like her Field Guide.

The Guide made her feel better, even though she hadn't seen a snake in months. It had been just before she met Lennie. She was in an alley near the Bazaar of Luck trying to make a few credits on side bets. There was an empty lot near the alley and a small snake slithered out of the grass and headed toward a dumpster. Near the street, a gambler waved credits at her. She wanted to score the mark, but the snake weaved slowly across the alley between her and the street. She froze. The mark walked away.

She rushed back to her room to look up the snake in the Field Guide. That always helped, even though she had long ago memorized the book. The snake was harmless, as were most snakes on Gate World, but this knowledge never permanently reassured her. The only comfort from her fear was the book. She knew how irrational this was, but her intelligence couldn't help her. She never told Lennie or anyone else about this weakness. When you lived on the streets of Port Elysium, other people's knowledge of your weaknesses could be fatal.

But she now had the book with her and everything was fine. She hummed as she combed out the elaborate layers of her hair. She carefully tangled some of the layers, then teased out a few floating strands. When she finished, she looked as if she had been sleeping on a bus, which was exactly the effect she wanted.

She bought one of the city's tabloid newspapers from a kiosk on the concourse. She noticed that the young male vendor, whose witty banter she had enjoyed the few times she had been to this station, was now silent and moody. He was a Eugene, of course; that was obvious by his holed left earlobe and his above average intelligence. And there was nothing unusual about a Eugene in a menial job, although they were a small minority in the population.

The man was showing the first signs of a long descent. The end of the descent would be catatonia, seemingly the inherent curse of most Eugenes. As his condition worsened, he would lose his job and eventually become one of the ubiquitous cats on the city's streets, living on handouts and the mercy of the citizens.

Jo shuddered and pushed the man's problems from her mind. Maybe someday she would get the dinochick ranch she dreamed about and she wouldn't have to think about becoming a cat. Right now, she had more pressing problems to worry about. She sat down in the waiting room and held the newspaper spread in front of her. She positioned herself so that she could see the locker area over the top of the newspaper. And she waited for Lennie.

After 45 minutes she was on her second reading of the paper and still no Lennie. Did he get caught? She began to get nervous. Maybe she should get out of there. Just as she decided to leave, Lennie strutted past the lockers directly toward her. She rushed up to him.

Where the hell have you been, she snarled in his ear.

They gave me a little problem getting out of there. But I made it.

I heard the sirens just after I left. You either got caught or you didn't. If they had caught you, you wouldn't be here. So what took you so long?

I had some business to attend to. What difference does it make? I'm here. I guess you want to check on our stash.

More than that, Lennie. I'm finished with you. It's time we go our separate ways.

Lennie looked shocked, but not very convincingly. He followed her to one of the double sealed lockers and both of them placed a thumb on matching plates. The locker opened to show a box inside. There's a coffee shop off the concourse, said Lennie. Let's divvy up in there.

They settled into a back booth, got coffee, then each applied a thumb to plates on the box. Good idea about these double seals, said Lennie. We keep each other honest. But I hate to see the old team break up.

Yeah, right, all of two months old. If you hate to see us break up, you shouldn't have made such an ass of yourself in the fight. Only three fights under your belt and you blow it. Not even a cat would've mistaken you for a zombie tonight. Although sometimes I wonder if maybe they did scoop about half of your frontal lobe and forget to put in the micromodule.

Lennie made a face. You think you're so smart compared to me that I might as well be a zombie. But I'm smart enough to run scams. Look, I just got carried away. The zombies are so easy, it's ridiculous. I think I'm ready for the regular gladiator fights.

Not with me as your partner. Number one, your picture will be in every arena in town before the night's over, and number two, you're not good enough for an intelligent fight.

I'm good enough.

And number three, you cost us a ton of money tonight, not even counting my rented costume, for which I can't get back the deposit, because I had to ditch it.

Jo, you're too excitable. What about the gate?

The advance against the gate is what I threw into the crowd to save our skins. You want to go back and try to collect what that idiot manager owes us?

Everybody's an idiot to you. No, I don't want to go back.

I thought not. We're probably down 500 credits, all in one glorious night.

Lennie shrugged. I've been hustling longer than you. It's all part of the game, Jo. Lennie dumped the box upside down on the table. After we split our stash and take a week off, you'll be ready for another scam, I promise you. Besides, you need me. You're not going to find another partner who's willing to work with a Eugene. I don't have anything against you people, but you know how it is.

Jo fingered the hole in her left earlobe, caught herself, and dropped her hand. Us people. Yeah, I know how it is.

They quickly divided the jewels and cash. Jo put her half in her shoulder bag and stood up. I think it's time I worked alone again, Lennie. Let's just say it didn't work out. But thanks anyway for being such a sport to a Eugene.

The sarcasm was lost on Lennie. No problem, Jo. I try to be fair. No hard feelings?

Jo let him hug her. A display of affection was unusual for Lennie. She tried to listen to his thoughts, but all she heard was the usual jumble of conflicting emotions. There was an undertone in the background, like he was hiding something. Her reception was spotty at times, so she couldn't be sure. It was probably that he had been running some sort of scam on his own and holding out on her. She didn't care about that.

Okay, Lennie, no hard feelings. I've got to go.

Tell you what. If the cops are after us, I think I'm the one they really want because I was the one in the ring.

What are you getting at?

Let me slip out of here first, then you can leave. Give me about ten minutes, Okay?

Jo hesitated only a second. What was that undertone? Okay, Lennie. Get going.

Thanks, Jo. See you when we're both rich, huh?

Jo watched him strut out of the coffee shop and wondered why she had ever tied up with such a loser. She waited ten minutes, gulped the rest of her coffee, and paid the zombie waiter. That was just like Lennie, sticking her with the tab.

On the sidewalk outside the terminal, she heard the faint whoosh of an air car, then a spotlight fell on her from above. She was so surprised that she almost looked up into the blinding light. She sensed movement nearby.

This is the police, boomed a voice. You are surrounded. Do not move. Three men closed in on her from different directions, but they stayed out of the circle of light. One of them spoke. Jo Youngblood, by authority of President-for-Life Philo Sabat, Protector of the Powerless, Guardian of Liberty, and Defender of the Peace-loving Citizens of Gate World, you are under arrest for grand larceny.

Chapter 2

The silence was almost complete. The whooshing of the air car was a gentle whisper. A couple who had been talking to each other as they walked toward the circle of light fell silent, turned, and hurried away. Jo's breath suddenly felt constricted and hot. She forced her diaphragm into a regular rhythm as she thought furiously.

The man who had spoken held out his hand into the circle of light. You will please come with us.

Jo slowly raised a hand and covered her mouth. She opened her eyes so wide that they hurt. She was the picture of shock, and it was not all acting.

I said you must come with us, Miss Youngblood.

Oh my God, said Jo. It's my mother you want, isn't it?

Jo measured three heartbeats of hesitation before plunging ahead. I'm her daughter, Elaine. I wondered how she had gotten hold of a stinger, and why she was carrying one, but I had no suspicion that she might be in trouble with the police. She said the fight tonight didn't go as she had planned, and that now she was going to have to go away, but I had no idea...

Jo listened for the thoughts and feelings of the three, but they were hard to separate. One paid little attention to the issue at hand; his energy was focused on the curves of her body. Another was wary, but willing to listen. The third, and she judged this to be the speaker, was confused.

Your mother? Your mother is Jo Youngblood? That can't be right.

Oh, I'm sorry I told you. No, wait. No, I'm not. I've been trying to tell her for years that she was going to get in trouble. Now she has that stinger. I don't want to see her get hurt. She's waiting for the Geosync City bus.

She's here? said the man.

That would explain the call, Sarge, said the man who had been wary.

Fogel, said the sergeant, you stay here with, ah...

Elaine, supplied Jo.

Davis and I will check the waiting room, said the sergeant.

Please don't hurt her, said Jo. She may not even know how to use that stinger.

The sergeant spoke briefly into his earplant and the overhead light went out. The air car whooshed for a second, and then was only moderately fainter. Jo deduced that it had gone to the bus-loading zone in the back of the terminal.

The sergeant and Davis hustled off as the man named Fogel, the same man who had so intently studied her body, stepped close and grinned. He could not believe his luck. Likewise, Jo could not believe her luck.

Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark and she could now see that Fogel covered her with a stinger. Stingers could be set to any charge from mildly painful to lethal. His thumb obscured the charge-setting dial.

I'm glad you're the one who stayed, said Jo. She knew she would be skirting the edge of believability with most men, but this fellow broadcast his lust loud and clear.

Me too. His grin threatened to crack his face. Do you want me as much as I want you?

Oh, God, yes! But we don't have much time before they get back. Two, three minutes tops.

That's enough. He reached out and touched her breast. Jo moaned and pulled him into the shadows around the corner. We have to hurry. Let me get these shorts down. She pretended to struggle with her shorts as he stroked her breasts with his left hand. His right hand held the stinger pointed up and wavering.

Jo caressed his crotch and the man's knees almost buckled. Put the stinger down for a second, honey, said Jo. We need all our hands to get this show on the road.

The man quickly laid the stinger on the sidewalk. As he straightened, Jo grabbed his crotch again and he moaned. Jo measured her strike zone. It was almost a shame to bring him down to reality. She put all her strength into her knee kick. At the same time she brought her head up sharply just as he was doubling over. His nose smashed into the top of her head so hard that she almost blacked out.

She staggered back as the man flailed the air for balance, then collapsed. Jo picked up the stinger and ran. When she was several blocks away she tossed the stinger into a trashcan and zigzagged through several alleys.

She stopped to rest and to listen for sirens. Nothing. But that didn't mean much. They could be pursuing without sirens. She had to think. Why had Lennie turned her in? Had she hurt his ego that badly? Damn. She knew her habit of sarcastic condescension was a problem she would have to correct. It was counter-productive. If she had let Lennie walk away feeling good about himself, then he wouldn't have done this.

At least she didn't think he would hurt her. Lennie was unpredictable. And he did make those remarks about her status. So he called the cops. The man had said, That would explain the call, Sarge.

Okay, she thought, I can't do anything about Lennie right now. The immediate problem is to...

Silently, Jo stood up. Something was going on in the street near the alley. The rhythm and flow of the crowd had been interrupted. Now people who passed the alley were staring at something down the street. It had to be the cops doing a sweep.

She ran to a fire escape ladder and climbed to the roof. She peeped over a wall from three floors above street level. The police were on each side of the street checking doorways and into shops. How had they gotten so close? She had traveled at least six blocks from the transit station and as far as she could tell, no one had seen which direction she had gone.

Her best bet would be to get over to the club district. There were always tens of thousands of merry-makers walking those streets every night. She could mingle with the tourists and street freaks, even pose as a cat, if she had to.

Jo made her way across several rooftops before she felt safe enough to drop to ground level. She caught a bus on Sabat Avenue, then a taxi at Amboria Plaza. She directed the driver on a circuitous route through the club district. When she was finally satisfied that she hadn't been followed and that there were no more cops on the streets of the district than any other night, she left the taxi.

She would spend several hours mingling with the crowds until the heat died down. After all, these things always died down. The police department of Port Elysium had better things to do than spend the night looking for a small-time con artist. Maybe she had hurt their pride a little by escaping, but they would forget about it.

She hadn't visited the club district in a while, but nothing had changed. Tourists from Earth clogged the streets. The old fashioned among them carried drinks in exotic hues, but many more displayed the glazed affability of Happy Daze junkies. Of course, many of the revelers were Gate Worlders. The natives were easy to spot because most of them wore costumes.

Many of the natives acted as guides for the tourists, or were trying to hustle tourists; the distinction was minor. United Nations Earth dollars were highly valued. The only way to get those dollars was from tourists.

The costumes always fascinated Jo. Before she teamed up with Lennie, during the period when she was hustling gamblers for side bets in the Bazaar of Luck, she would come down to the club district to drink espresso in a sidewalk cafe and watch the show. Gate Worlders on the hustle had vivid imaginations. Everything from Egyptian pharaohs and queens to tentacled beasts eventually paraded past her table.

Tonight she would be part of that parade. She found something she liked in the third costume shop she entered. A few minutes later she emerged on the Avenue of Dreams in brilliant peacock colors. It was perfect. Her red hair was covered with iridescent feathers. A fan of meter-long feathers radiated from her hips, swaying gracefully as she walked. The shimmering body suit beneath the feathers was a little warm, but she could deal with it. A loose cape of electro luminescent blue was just large enough to cover her shoulder bag.

The only real problem was negotiating the swarming streets. She bought a flock of helium balloons from a street vendor and removed the string from the balloons. She tied several strings together, then ran the line through her head dress and tail feathers.