The Aurigan Solution

"We will be landing at Baleen terminal in five minutes, please extinguish smoking materials and secure any loose items."

Halverson checked the time. Twelve minutes early, that was a wonder. The smoothness of the descent from orbit was a wonder as well. He appreciated good piloting.

He took up his pad from his lap and scrolled through the remaining pages of the information packet that had been passed to him by a contact just before he disembarked from the orbital station. It was mostly just dry and boring background reports on the socio-political situation, nothing he didnÕt already know. He hesitated for a moment over the two remaining unread memos, then pulled the data stick out of his pad and snapped it in two. He tossed the pieces on the floor under the seat in front of him. You could be a slob in first class.

He looked out the window at Baleen below, a sprawling gray cityscape of monotonous and ugly square buildings that seemed to be the norm out here on the fringes of The Network. Traffic packed the streets. Bonfires burned here and there about the city and beyond, sending up plumes of dark smoke. The shuttle-plane banked, giving a view of the port facilities below. The tarmac was jammed with people. Fires burned there too, and he wondered if it was some kind of holiday.

What he didnÕt know is that on that very day, May 1, 4040, the People of the Aurigan Sector had declared their independence from Luna, from old Earth, and formed a new government.

He thought no more about it, sitting back and resting his eyes for what was left of the flight. He would have fallen asleep except for the terse announcement shortly after they touched down. "Please remain in your seats," was all it was, but the manner in which it was said stirred him. He sat up with a start and looked out the window.

What seemed to be thousands of people converged on the plane as it taxied to a stop. He could hear nothing but knew from the distorted faces that the screams and shouts were very loud. Rage was in those faces. Hate. Banners were waved about whose messages were all too clear: "Kill the war pigs", and "Death to Terran Spies".

He thought he should feel panic ... but it was surreal, just too strange. He had known there was discontent out here, but as far as he knew it hadn't yet erupted into unrest and violence. He instantly regretted not reading those last two memos and wondered what a 'war pig' was.

The hatches were cracked, and deafening noise rushed in to kill the silence that had descended inside. Sweaty young men with rifles in their hands and red scarves around their necks ran in and up the aisles, batting people on the head and shouting abuse. They began herding the passengers toward the door. He too was pushed along, through the door onto the wing and into the chanting, screaming mob that only wanted him dead.