Titan Twelve and Twenty

“We’ve been in this hell hole for almost 3 years!” Bill slurred and took another swig of the Pruno.

“Sit down and relax man. It’s no use getting worked up again.” I was getting tired of all the complaining.

The comradery in the Titan 12 mining encampment tent had taken a dive in recent months. This was supposed to be a way out, a way to early release. We were all prisoners on Earth, chosen because of the length of our sentences. All of us were given an option: stay in prison or take part in an early release program. Two years on the first-ever manned mining mission to Titan, one of the moons of Jupiter. Cobalt is the name of the game now. The electric car boom of the early 21st century left Earth barren of the stuff and everything is run on Solar Powered Battery these days.

“Grab the Ice Bucket and go get us some more.” I direct Bill.

“Sure thing El Jefe” he grabs the bucket and stumbles off down the middle of the tent.

Twenty Thousand Men and Women were out here. Twelve Hundred in this tent alone lined with Military style double bunks. A small cafeteria down at the end, a few couches, and Viewing Stations. Twelve hundred souls have been forced to stay longer than they wanted when most of the others have gone home. Brigatt and Moore, the mining company, was bought out right before the end of our time here on Titan. Most of the miners had already left for Earth. The ships never brought out any replacements. The new owners, a Korean company, operating out of Antarctica. Different laws in Antarctica. Human rights are lax down there. Every supply ship shows up short on inventory. Most communication has been cut off from Earth. Most of the miners that are left are ready to revolt.

I can hear Bill talking to Emile. Emile is a slender, bronze-skinned Frenchmen that bunks about 4 down across the aisle. Since he has been here, he has grown one of those mustaches that curl at the end. Emile is smart. Smarter than me. That is why he is going to get us out of here. His charisma and brains have the whole barracks believing we will get out of here. Patience is the name of the game now.

There are twenty of us. Twenty men and women are going to attempt to hijack the next cargo freighter. Twenty of us are probably going to die. Makeshift weapons made from the mining lasers' spare and stolen parts. Five makeshift atmospheric pressure suits for the unlucky bastards that must get into the ship from the ground. Even if we all attacked the cargo-hold they could lock us in it and take off with the doors open. The chosen five will leave the pressure stabilization chamber at the front of the barracks. Work our way around undetected to the Cargo Ship and torch the passenger hatch. Once we get in the rest will attack the cargo hold. This is the plan. This is Emile’s plan. This is our lives.

“Here you go Chief.” Bill hands me the Ice Bucket.

“Thanks buddy, I appreciate it.” The potato chips in the bucket taste like salted cardboard. The food replicators have never worked as well as they did in the old movies.

“Frenchie says it’s the next ship. He told me to tell you.”

Bill is a little more alert than before.

“The next Ship? The next ship is due in twenty minutes.” I am agitated.

“He said he didn’t want anybody to jump the gun,” Bill stated in his most assuring tone.

“I have to go tell the others.” Bill gives me a wink and walks off.

Fourteen minutes from now I must start walking. Twenty-five minutes from now I am going to be attacking a ship on Titan. Thirty minutes from now we could all be dead.

I was never destined for this. I was never a criminal. One too many drinks. One asshole’s hand on my Ol’ Ladies ass. One punch and one man smacks his head on the pavement at the wrong angle.

After a few jail-yard scuffles while awaiting sentencing and a lawyer that sold me upriver, I was sentenced to 17 years for that punch. The only way to get home to my baby quicker was to take this gig on Titan. I was fresh in the penal system, with no priors. The perfect candidate they said. 2 years or almost 13 before parole. I took my shot. Now I must take another to get home.

We can get about half of the people in Titan 12 onboard the ship. First come, first serve. The rest are going to have to wait for Emile to send a rescue crew. It is going to cause panic. It is going to be a nightmare deciding who gets on the first run home. Ladies first is not a notion that flies with these characters. Many of the men are here on domestic violence convictions. They were deemed more likely to follow the rules than their criminal counterparts.

“Liberté, égalité, fraternité!!” Emile says it loud enough so the miners in the immediate vicinity can hear. As soon as he says it murmurs of broken French inspiration roll through the barracks like a wave.

He explained to me once about La Résistance and what they meant to his people hundreds of years ago. It was now time to echo their tenacity and will.

Twenty men and women stood up. Twenty men and women started to walk. The twenty men and women of Titan 12.