SFSD-X

The Island

It was something of a tradition to spend your last night before a Salvage Detail in the Island's most popular bar; the All Pink on the Inside. Affectionately known as The Pink, its presence on the lowest level of the Island was announced by a large pink neon sign. The letters flickered in the dim corridor, casting eerie shadows of foreboding when all was quiet. But when the various Work Details came off shift and the lower levels came to life, it's optimistic promise of 'Titties and Beer' was a magnet to those with low expectations.

The Salvage Detail was the most feared, on account of its high casualty rate, and there were never enough volunteers to run a shift. Consequently its places were filled via a lottery, the results of which were announced 24 hours before a shift was due to go out. But when my name was read out I felt excited, rather than afraid.

There were usually twenty on a Salvage Detail, and the statistics showed that, over the years, you had a five percent chance of getting killed. One dead for every twenty that went out. My cabin-mate, Paul, said they should make the Detail nineteen, then no one would get killed. I knew this was nonsense, but I didn't try to argue with him. When we were young I used to argue about things like this all the time. I would know he was wrong, and try to explain, but he couldn't understand. Gradually I realised this was the case with pretty much everyone I knew, and so I gave up trying to explain things. That was what I liked most about Amy; she understood things the way I did.

We sat together in The Pink nursing our drinks. Paul and I had grown up in the Island together, we had neighbouring bunks in the dormitories, played together in the Crèche, sat at the same desk in school and shared a cabin when we were put to work. People commented that we might have been born to the same mother, but we were polar opposites in every sense. He was tall and gangly where I was small. He was loud and outspoken where I was timid. He was reckless and carefree where I was cautious. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, we were inseparable and looked out for each other when life became miserable. In the Island, life was frequently miserable.

It was only our first year since being put to work, so we had nine years left before Going Home. I didn't really know what that meant, except that when people said they were Going Home I never saw them again.

I saw Amy and her friend Suz enter the bar. It was starting to get busy and they hovered by the door, scanning the room. I knew they'd be looking for me; they would have heard I was on the Salvage Detail. I stood up self-consciously and waved my arm, feeling a little foolish, Amy led the way.

"Sorry you got picked, Dan."

Amy sat next to me, whilst her cabin-mate went with Paul to the bar. Amy worked on the Comms Detail, passing around messages that came through a display on her desk with instructions for each of the Details. She had been on the Salvage before, and said it was pretty rough. Still, I was becoming increasingly excited by the prospect, which pushed the stories that I'd heard out of mind.

"I'm looking forward to it Amy! I want to spend time on the Surface!"

She looked at me, frowning, searching my face in the dim light. I felt myself grin.

"What you looking at Amy? Have I got oil on my face again?"

I leaned back to get a rag out of my pocket. It was a running joke between us, since I spent my shifts on the Engine Room Detail.

"Dan, the Salvage is dangerous! People get killed, all the time!"

There was something about her voice that made me stop and look straight at her. She was upset, almost crying. It unnerved me a bit, Amy was tough, and I'd never seen her like this before. She was older than me and had had her two live births before I was even put to work. For some reason she'd never Paired, although I couldn't understand why. I figured it must have been her choice, because I thought she was lovely in every way.