The Tartarus Directive

Chapter 19

Griff sought shelter in the communal living quarters adjacent to the mineral processing and manufacturing sections of the ship. These sections had seen the most violence during the civil unrest that prompted the Ananke Directive's activation. Now, it was all quiet once more. Griff's clean clothes drew scrutiny from the destitute workers and their families.

The air here was always sweltering and reeked of human refuse. The beds in the communal living quarters were stacked several high, one atop the other. There were no divisions in this section apart from improvised privacy curtains drawn between living areas. To get to one area, one had to pass through all previous ones. For this reason, beds towards the bow were considered prime real estate because foot traffic was limited.

It was not a free-for-all here, though. Despite the shabbiness of the surroundings, these parts of the ship were organized by the All-Residents Workers' Union, or whatever of it remained. The union offices, though they were little more than sparsely-furnished spaces enclosed by curtains and makeshift walls, were tucked away near the entrance to the communal living quarters.

The union organizer's office was the first which Griff came upon. It was guarded by two burly proletarians with homemade blackjacks concealed poorly in their sleeves.

"I want to see the boss," Griff said weakly to one of the guards.

"Yeah?" the guard replied. "What about?"

"Just tell him Griff Markham wants to see him."

The two guards looked Griff over carefully. Once they had sized him up enough to know he was in no position to pose a threat to the boss, they exchanged a look and a guard ducked into the office. Griff heard muffled voices and a few moments later the guard emerged, pulling the curtain aside to allow Griff through.

Griff met eyes with Devitt, György Dutka's former right-hand and now chief organizer. He was a short, broad man with a light beard and a square head topped with short, thin, graying hair. His face was heavily creased and streaked with discoloration. He stood up behind his desk, planting both of his thick-fingered hands squarely atop it and leaning forward.

"What do you want, Markham?" Devitt asked curtly.

Griff looked over his shoulder at the guard he still held the curtain aside and looked in. Griff looked back to Devitt and Devitt waved the guard away.

"I need a favor. Two, really," Griff said.

"Yeah?"

"I need a bed and a job."

"You and a coupla hundred other people on this ship. You get the boot from SecServ?"

"In a manner of speaking. I'm done with it. All of it."

Devitt squinted his eyes and smirked. "You know how many people come to me every day askin' for favors? Folks with sick kids, folks who haven't eaten in a week--been living rough in Atium or in the Warrens with nothing more than a scrap of fabric to wrap around their feet? Too many: that's how many. Ever since Dutka got murdered by those jackbooted thugs upstairs and the riots, it's only gotten worse. The pigs on A level might not know it--they never feel the squeeze because when things are tough we're the ones who bear the brunt of it."

Griff stopped him: "Can you help me out?"

Devitt let out a long sigh. "Markham, you've always been a stand-up guy. I want you to know that. Dutka thought so, too. What you have to understand is we're at war; we have been for a long time. As good a guy as you are, you wore the uniform of an institution designed with the express purpose of kicking in our teeth every time we mouthed-off a little too much. A lot of people down here resent you for it, and I can't say I blame them, either. What I'm saying is it'll take a long time before that stink washes off. It may never wash off entirely. But, if you're willing to work with me--with us, there's always a place for you."