Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 9: Asha-Tanga #1

Jake slowed the truck as he spied the wooden barricade in the road ahead of him. He glanced over at Abioya, who was slumped down in the navigator's seat, his eyes shut. Chatura was in the cab behind them. He would drive during the nightshift and was napping until then.

Jake didn't really need either of them for this part of the job. He loved driving. Always had.

Abioya shifted and opened one eye as the massive electric truck slowed. "What's up?" he asked. He used English, and neither of their translator collars were needed. Abioya spoke several languages, Jake had learned. His native language was Yoruba, but French was the official language in Benin, and Abioya was fluent in that as well. His English was just shy of being truly fluent and he was further along in learning Consortium than Jake was, despite the same number of lessons.

"Don't compare your progress to others," their language advisor on base chided Jake. "You will only slow yourself down." Jake's biggest hang-up, he'd been told, was his tendency to worry too much about mistakes. "Kids learn language fast because they try it out. Adult learners slow themselves down by refusing to try until they know they are getting it right."

Jake responded to Abioya's query. "Just a border crossing." He consulted the navigator. "Northern Nigeria. It's nothing."

He saw a man in a familiar red uniform come out of the guard station and froze. What is Consortium military doing way out here?

As if catching his thoughts, Abioya leaned forward. "Perhaps not nothing," he commented.

The barricade was not raised for them nor were they waived through. Jake stopped the truck entirely. Abioya was already climbing out of the cab, which opened on his side. Jake followed him, climbing down the ladder.

It was hot and dry in this part of Africa, the sun blazing down and the temperature hovering around a hundred degrees. Jake pulled a cap from the pocket of his civil-service jacket and then zipped the jacket up. It was incongruous to be zipping up against the heat, but the civil-service jackets were as insulated against heat as well as cold, and it did help. Abioya, native to this region, showed no discomfort.

Then again, Jake had just been home a few days ago, and Idaho was as different from this as could possibly be. It was mid-February and still winter in Idaho. He'd left there just as a cold front and snowstorm were sweeping through the region. Less than a day later, he'd arrived in Africa to this heat.

"Is there a problem?" Abioya was asking the military officer in Consortium.

The man nodded. "Some civil unrest or something. Borders been closed while diplomacy tries to sort it out."

"Boko Harem or the military?" Abioya asked. He pursed his lips.

Boko Harem was a terrorist group in the region. Jake had thought of the "war on terrorism" as a straightforward thing. Terrorists were the bad guys. The military fought them. That was how most of his friends back in Idaho thought too. But it was far more complicated, he'd learn through Abioya. The military crackdowns caught as many innocent bystanders as terrorists, and locals lived in as much fear of them as the terrorist themselves. Abioya's own people, just west in Benin, had seen it firsthand.

The military man shrugged. "Military thinks the rebels will take the supplies. Wants the border closed. Even to us."

Abioya's eyes were dark. "We carry food. Not guns. They know this."

Jake stepped aside and sent a quick message back to Bamako base. A holographic image of the quartermaster appeared. Jake told it, "They say the border is closed to Nigeria now."

"We heard, just now," the quartermaster replied. "I'm preparing a new route. It will take you around the northern spur. It will shorten your trip by a day or two, but can't be helped. You can work on base when you get back, or have an early vacation. Have Asha-Tanga plans?"

Jake and his crew drove long-range missions; they took truckloads of farming supplies and food to far-flung communities throughout Central Africa. Their routes were usually a week-long circle.

An extra day off might be nice. Jake did, in fact, have Asha-Tanga plans. "Yeah, Chatura's family rented a compound on Saras. They want us all to come."

The quartermaster whistled. "A compound on Saras for Asha-Tanga? Must have cost plenty. They must be rich."

Jake shrugged. "His dad does something in data, but I don't know what."

"Tech types, always rich, eh?" the quartermaster commented. "Your new route is being compiled and sent now."

Jake turned to find Abioya at his side. "Quartermaster sent us a new route," Jake said.

They climbed back into their truck, and Jake backed around to return the way they had come. The new route showed on the dash's navigation system.

"Is there a problem?" Chatura asked from the back of the cab.

"New route from the quartermaster," Jake said. "Some trouble at the border. It will shorten our trip by a day or so." The truck lurched over the edge of the road as he turned and then righted itself again. "He said we could work on base that last day, or leave early."

"Might be as well. Mom and Dad might need help. Unless you want me to come home with you. Your mom has three kids to get to the station." He was referring to Shoshone Station.

"Naw, I'll be there. It will be fine."

Abioya cussed loudly.

Jake stared at him in shock. Abioya was the friendliest, most laid-back person he knew. But now his eyes were dark, and he kicked the dash of the truck.

"Maybe your mom will come around . . ." Chatura offered. Abioya's mom had refused the offer to go with them.

"We have food!" Abioya spat out. "Supplies for farmers. Nothing that will help rebels." He stared out the window, not meeting Jake's eye.

"Yeah, but maybe it's not safe for us," he offered.

"No! Boko Haram is no threat. Not now. The Consortium has them outmatched at every turn. And if they are? Send an escort. It's General Abegunda. He doesn't want us there."

"Why? Like you say, we have food, supplies for farmers." Jake watched Abioya, trying to understand the outburst. "And you're right; the Consortium has all but driven Boko Haram out of existence."

"And now he wants us gone," Abioya insisted. "He worries that if we help the poor too much, who will they thank? Who will they look to in the future?" He glanced at them, imploring. "Not Abegunda. Not the Nigerian government. They will look to the Consortium. And that thought scares the people in power."

"Probably right," Jake admitted, not wanting to fight about it. "But the diplomats will work it out; you'll see. Next trip they'll let us in like usual."

"Yeah," Abioya said. He gave Jake a lopsided grin. "Sorry. It's just, they are like my own people. So poor. So little."

Chatura clapped him on the back. "And we help them. Yes?"

"Yes," Abioya agreed. "We help them all."

Softy, Jake thought. But he felt it too. He took pride in what they were doing, what they were accomplishing here.

Their new route had them skirting the northern border of Nigeria and driving through Southern Niger instead. Jake had been surprised to learn that they were two separate countries, but then again, he'd never been good at geography.

Their trip would create a wide circle around an arid region of Africa. Or semi-arid. He'd recently learned it was not a true desert, but over-grazing of cattle and goats had left it nearly as desolate. "Desertification," one of the Norwegian girls back at base had called it. Now the landscape was becoming dotted with Consortium-styled domes; inside crops could be grown in an intensive but still water-conservative fashion, allowing the population to feed itself without hurting their environment.

Abioya was staring out the window, looking thoughtful now. Chatura grabbed a drink from the kitchenette and then laid back down. Jake found his turn and let the long stretch of land lull him back into his driving trance with a contented sigh.