Ken woke up to the soft sounds of the barakes around him and considered rolling over and going back to sleep.  The clock in the wall display said it was well after morning reveille, not that reveille meant anything here. This was where they sent the crippled and useless too; they called it the Cripples Barracks.  He used his left hand to pull his pillow over his head and wondered once more if he shouldn’t try suffocating himself with it. It was so tempting and he knew you could do it; if you made an effort and no one was around to stop you.  After all he had seen a few carted out of here in the year he had been here that had managed it. He wasn't sure how and having only one hand would probably complicate things.

A year ago, he had been 6 months out of basic training, thinking his contract would be paid off in 20 years.  But war had broken out and the ship he was assigned to went to battle. He had been a green marine and his ship had taken a hit amide ships in one battle, right near his gunner’s station.  He was alive because the compartment e-seals had deployed successfully and because that was the only hit the ship had taken. The hit had killed the rest of his team in a gout of molten metal.  The same molten metal that had splashed his right side.

One of the few mercies he had been offered that day was he could not remember it except as a vague nightmare and at that just a flash of them pulling him from the wreckage of his station, howling in agony as he flailed around, only able to see from one eye the skeletal looking blankend remains of his right hand.  Mostly what stayed in his mind was the sight of his hand charged down to bone bits flaking away, and the cherry glow of a bit of slag cooling in what had once been the back of his hand. But there were other fragments. The sound of one of the human S & R team puking, a voice saying that they would have to cut away the worst of the charred flesh and save what they could.  Some time later though he wasn’t clear on how long, someone saying that the hand, his lower leg and eye were beyond repair.

Those words that had ended his time in the marines.  Ended his hopes of ever buying his contract out. The molten metal that had burned him may as well have killed him.  Getting out of the military for injuries did reduce your contract significantly, but still left a lot to pay off. Especially when your were as badly crippled as he was.  If your injuries were minor your contract might be picked up by a third party. Maybe work in a low budget police force or company security. But no one wanted to buy the contract of a Gentech wolf who was short a hand, a leg and, an eye.

Ken went back to sleep not caring he would miss the morning meal, it was just one more missed meal after all, wishing he had been just one more fatal casualty in the war.  Death would have been more merciful than living like this.

Jessica sat in the office and tried not to fidget.  She wasn’t used to being idle station side, and the man working the computer had been at it for a while now.  He said he could find a Dog Boy to fit her needs. She wondered why it was taking so long after all she had read the net add.  They advertised Dog Boys for as little as 20k credits. She was offering 40k, shouldn’t it have meant a lot of options?

As if reading her mind, the sales clerk, Mark, looked up, “I am sorry it’s taking so long ma’am.  I am afraid that while the net add does say we have Gentech Wolves for as little as 20k, and it’s true we do sometime, most of them are pretty much useless due to disabling injuries, at least for what you’re looking for.  I have found a candidate though. MC-NE04-23740514071322-K3N. He’s banged up but has all the skills you are looking for. That skill list by the way is whats pushing up the cost so much. The cost of training for 0 G environments, Space walk training and vac suit use, is a rare skill set for the Genteck wolves.  Most of them are trained in ground combat, or at least were before the war. We are seeing a lot more trained that way entering service now I hear.” He paused then went on, “On the subject of the candidate, would you be able to handle a missing, eye, hand and leg?”

“Good God, you call that banged up?  Half his limbs are missing! Poor bastard is lucky to be alive to have suffered that kind of injury and be alive.  Still with prosthetics he could be more than adequate for what I need.”

The man looked away, startling her and said, “I am sorry ma’am but he doesn't have any prosthetics.  United Worlds when they put the system together put together a great plan for tissue repair but prosthetics were so costly back then that the UW just put in the most basic plan for them feeling that extensive prosthetic work would leave them needing even longer to pay off their contracts.  His file says he is do for the work but its pending review.”

Jessica rubbed her temples, “So your telling me that the Dog Boy you can sell me is short an eye, ruining depth perception.  Short a leg reducing mobility. Short a hand significantly reducing his ability to operate equipment. Combined with the Gentech opps of making them all so dyslexic they can’t read and I would almost be better off getting a ships cat than this guy!”

“Um yes Ma’am, but the ship’s cat won't get you out of your legal fix of needing a second crew member.   Also while significantly disabled he will still be of use to you. After all in a zero G environment, or microgravity his missing leg is much less of a hinderance.  Is the eye really that big a deal?”

“You wouldn’t ask that had you ever worked cargo in microgravity environments.  There is no one better for this?” Jessica asked in exasperation.

“Not in the price range you gave me ma’am. The next candidate is hole in body more or less, just a nasty limp from nerve damage they were not able to repair.  But his contract is 90k, he had much less taken off as his injuries aren't nearly as sever.” Mark explained.

“Christ, what has to be done to reach the 20k mark?”

Mark sighed, “Blindness, loss the use of 3 or more limbs that kind of thing.”

Jessica’s glare got a, “Hey I didn’t make the rules!” from Mark.

“Fine.  Is there anything else I need to know about him?” Jessica asked.  This deal sucked but she wouldn’t be leaving port without a second crew person on the ship.  God damned government types making regulations up to look good. She had worked the trade lanes alone for 10 years now, but now she needed crew!

“Well he has some depression issues according to his file, but that's to be expected given how badly he was injured,” Mark said.

“Fine, let's take a look at him,” Jessica said and tried to resist the feeling that she was buying a pet dog for rehab and not a crew contract on a Dog Boy.  

She would have preferred a hired crew member but she didn’t make so much as to pay a person to join her.  She did make money hauling cargo and mining on the side for rare materials from time to time but the small cargo vessel wasn’t one of the massive bulk freighters that were so common here in the core worlds.  That ment her operations cost vs profit here in the core worlds was low. Sadly if she had one of the massive bulk freighters she wouldn’t be in this jam as they did need a few more than one to crew the things.  She was glade this run would take her out towards the rim of colinzinned space where there was less regulation. Profits might be more iffy but UW was starting to give corporate interests too much weight.

Mark stood up and guided her out and down the hallway, “This way ma’am.”

Ken woke to a chime near his ear and with a grunt he acknowledged the chime.  A voice that reminded him of the PT instructor at basic said, “MC-NE04-23740514071322-K3N!  Report to the Black Square room for contract evaluation. You have 3 minutes to make ready!”  Ken could almost hear the follow up his instructor would have been giving that instruction, ‘Move, move, move!  Last one ready gets to do an extra 100 sit ups!’ Or some other physical punishment.

Ken sat bolt upright out of reflex at the order but otherwise didn’t move for a moment.  A lifetime's training got him that far at least for following instructions. He turned far enough that he could see the clock with his one eye, and saw it was now almost noon station time.  His belly rumbled mild displeasure at how empty it was but he ignored it, and dropped his one leg off the bed and balanced enough to get his short out of his locker. He pulled out well worn shorts that were torn in a spot and put them on.  

Clothing had seemed important when he first got shuttled station side but then he had realized that they almost never saw humans in the Gentech section and most of the long timers had simple stopped wearing clothing.  The issue was that additional or replacement clothing cost credits that were added to your contract, and most learned to do with out. It wasn’t as if they weren't used to being naked around one another anyways. The showers were communal, and until they were age 8 they weren’t issued clothing at all.  Of course after that humans expected clothing to be worn anytime they were out of the barracks.

This ment the clothing became a habit, but that most Gentech didn’t have the obsessive need for it that most humans seemed to have.  It wouldn’t even be a habit but public nudity could get some pretty harsh punishments, and they got a lot worse if you were seen with your rocket out.  He never understood why that part of his kind seemed to bug humans so much. Everyone must have one or how would they urinate?

The shorts wold have to do even if they did have a rip in the fabric over one butt cheek.  He grabbed up his harness but after a moment put it back. It wasn’t as if there was anything to attach to it.

He sighed and wished there was time for a shower, he knew his smell was on the strong side but he hadn’t cared enough to shower much these last few months and his grooming had suffered for it.  He pulled his ass over a little and stood up and pivoted and dropped into his wheelchair. With the use of his good leg and hand he wheeled himself out, for this ‘contract review’. He was sure that it was a mistake or they would take one look at him and spend money on someone else’s contract.

It took a little over 4 minutes by his best guess to get to the designated location and he awkwardly wheeled himself through the door.  There was a woman there as well as a guy in the uniform for the company. The woman’s face when she turned and looked at him had many emotions flow across it, before it went to a determined blankness he saw in some of the human NCO’s when they were working to hide what they were feeling.  Yet he detected something in her eyes and it took him long moments to recognize it, not having seen it sense he left the creech he had been raised in. A hint of kindness, or maybe compassion that he had only seen in the youngest humans working the creech.

She was tall for a human woman, red haired, with green eyes and pale skin.  There were hints of crows feet at the corner of her eyes like some senior NCO’s and officers had.  She wore a set of cover all that spacers often wore when they were ship board, that could be used as an emergency vac suit when needed.  It wasn’t a military designed one though or even at a guess security, it lacked any pockets for armor inserts. There was an air of authority in the way she moved though, so likely an officer of some kind.  He wondered what she was looking for but knew deep down it wouldn’t be for him. He was barely functional, and there for useless.

Looking at the Dog Boy she saw him through eyes that had spent years working as a volunteer at a dog shelter on Earth.  She had seen a lot of dogs go through, some the subject of extreme abuse. There had been a hopelessness in some of the dogs eyes that were in this Dog Boy’s eye.  But it wasn’t just his eye, he looked to thin as if he had missed more than a few meals. That was what struck her first at least.

The second thing to hit her was he didn’t even have a motorized wheelchair, he was getting around with difficulty using his one hand and foot.  She turned to Mark, “Why doesn’t he at least have a motorized wheelchair?”

Mark blushed a little, “We only have a few of them Ma’am, and they are being used by Gentech worse off mobility wise than he is.”

She glared at him, “It costs less than 2 credits in materials to print up a basic one.  Are your telling me that you lot are so tight fisted that you won't pay to have more printed up?”

Mark steeped back a step and put his hands up in a stopping motion, “Ma’am I don’t handle that side of things,” he stammered.

Jessica fumed, “Wow now there is bureaucratic talk for not my problem if I ever heard it.  Fine, where do I sign?” She knew she was making a snap decision and not the careful one she should be doing.  But looking at him reminded her of her child hood dog Trevor, and she had failed him. She hadn’t had the guts to stand up to her father in his drunken rage and lost Trevor because of it when she had been in her teens.  She could help this broken canine though, or at least she hoped she could. She had a nagging feeling she might be getting in over her head, something she really shouldn’t allow. But she wouldn’t leave this Dog Boy like this.  Part of her wished she could take more out of here but she had limits on her cash and she had a feeling she was going to end up stretched thin cash wise as it was.

Mark looked startled, “Ah it’s a thumb print, retina scan, and initialization at various points in the documentation.”  He held out his tablet to her, “Here, just follow the on screen instructions.”

She printed, scanned and read through the document initiating various bits here and there.  There were exploitable holes in the contract that you could drive a bus though. For instance she would need to have welfare checks done, but there was no stipulation for if she left system.  She could technically charge him credits equal to his pay, for anything. She suddenly wondered how many Dog Boys who had their contracts bought by 3rd parties ever earned their freedom. Something she would look into later.  She trasphered a copy of the document after completion to her own tablet, as well as a guide offered for the handling of Gentech Wolves. She was sure it wouldn’t be the same as keeping a dog.

She looked over at ‘Ken’ or MC-NE04-23740514071322-K3N as his paperwork had it.  The name had clearly been generated based of the random 3 digit identifying number at the end of his serial code.  She new the MC was Marine Corps identification for his gene sequencing. The NE04 ment he had been birthed at New Eden Creech 4,  The number after that told her he had been born May 14th, 2374, at 713am and 22 seconds, making him 16 years old. The K3N was sequential number to make sure there was no mix ups if two were born close to each other.

She saw he looked shocked, and perhaps disbelieving?  It was hard to say given it wasn’t an expression she had seen on any dog before.  She turned and looked at Mark, “My understanding is he can collect whatever kit he has, I would like to do that now.”

Mark looked to Ken after flipping though a couple of screens on the tablet, “Records show his kit as one pair of shorts and a harness?  Is that accurate K3N? Didn’t you at least get a basic grooming kit?”, he asked frowning.

Ken barked out, “No Sir.  The grooming kit offered was not the basic kit, Sir!  I did not wish to add to my contract Sir!”

Jessica was rather shocked that he had straitened up in his wheelchair to bark that out.  She had to work to keep from grinning as she realized that someone at some point must have thought it a hoot to teach their Dog Boy to bark out replies to questions.  Then it penetrated what he had said and any inclination to smile vanished. The look she leveled on Mark was one she had learned dealing with rim station personnel who were failing to meet basic expectations.  It was a look that had conveyed to many that they were going to meet those basic expectations or receive a verbal, or possibly is some cases physical, foot up the ass.

Mark looked embarrassed, “I will get one.  I will also check into why a basic one was not offered; they should be.  All basic kit is to be offered. K3N were you only issued the one pair of shorts?”

“Sir, yes Sir!”, Ken snapped out.

Jessica ground her teeth.  Mark may or may not have seen her ire kicking up a notch but sighed, “I will get you a few more things as well,  I'll be back in 5 minutes Ma’am!”, and he hastened out of the room.

Ken watched the human scurry out.  He hadn’t known that there was more basic kit that should have been issued.  Everyone that he heard of just had basic issue shorts, and most paid for what few other things they had.  It wasn’t much and none of it was expensive but it did add up.

He looked to this human who would buy his contract, unsure what would come next.  What could she want him for. She seemed to sense his eye on her and turned and said in a pleasant voice, “I should have asked this sooner, but do you have any experience operating standard dock powered suits?”

He shook his said slightly in the negative, “No Ma’am!  Just lifts Ma’am power suits were handled by human crew for loading and unloading ships provisions Ma’am!”

“I see.  Well as your part of my crew you can call me Captain, or Jess or if you absolutely must Captain Harkens.  You will be the second I need to be legally crewed under some laws that passed recently here in the United Worlds controlled space,” she looked him clearly in the eye, “You will be paid for your work both towards your contract and wages as I can.”  She frowned, “Not as much as you should be getting but as much as I can afford. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am!”, he snapped out.  He didn’t but that was not the expected reply.  Why pick a useless cripple? She had to know he would cost more to feed than he could return in labor.

She frowned at him, “Ken, *do* you understand.  Don’t give me a snapped out response like a robot.  I want a real answer,” she commanded him.

A real answer?  He looked down, embarrassed and unwilling to meet her eyes.  “No, ma’am” he said more to the floor than her.

“I see,” she said and he could not identify all the emotions in her voice.  She went on, “Well hopefully over time your questions will be answered. You may ask any question at any time.  Do you understand that? I do mean any time Ken.”

Ken said softly, “Yes Ma’am.”  He couldn’t ask why, he was to afraid of the answer.

Mark stepped back in a moment later with a small foot locker.  “I checked a few things and will need to look into a few more. In the meantime, this foot locker has 3 pairs of shorts, for Ken.  It also contains a grooming kit with all the extras, 2 basic shirts, and 3 ships suits printed with your ships logo Ma’am, hope you don't mind.  There is also a basic tablet designed with Gentech’s in mind in there. I also added a couple of selections of favorite treats among the Gentechs.  They are all on me. Oh and I will cover the cost of having the wheelchair replaced, I can’t que the chair till later today or I would send you off with a new one.”

He paused and then drew in a breath and said softly, “Ma’am I truly did not know about the shortages and still do not know why.  I will look into it I swear.” Looking to Ken he knelt down and handed over the foot locker.

“K3N,” he paused and started again, “Ken, I am sorry that you were not given all the basics you should have been.  On behalf of Gentech I would like to apologize that you did not receive the treatment that a veteran of our armed forces should have received.  The system is flawed and does not give enough as is, it is unconscionable that you did not receive even those basic things the system grants.” He paused then said, “I really am sorry.  I had no idea this was going on under my nose. I think I know why and who though now that it has come to my attention. I *will* do something about it I promise.” With that he stood up and stepped back.  Ken could tell something in his demeanor had changed, and not just his determination. It took him a moment to identify it as an air of something like authority.

“That almost sounds like a politico talking Mark,” Jessica said from behind him.

Mark blushed slightly and looking uncomfortable said, “Perhaps ma’am.  But it’s true nonetheless.”

Jessica snorted, “Maybe so.  Time will tell. Am I good to depart?”

“Yes Ms. Harkens!” Mark said with a grin.

Ken felt hands on the back of his wheelchair, and Jessica said, “Well then Ken, lets get you to my ship, some paperwork filed and some quote requests out.  Oh and you are going to take a shower.” She said the last with what Ken thought was humor until she added, “You stink.”

Ken kept looking down, “Yes Ma’am,” he said softly as she wheeled him out of the room and into an unknown future.