Dark Tidings: Volumes I & II

by Gregory Marshall Smith

  “These bastards and bitches are some of the worst offenders in the system,’’ Davila told Norterm. “Among them are a few of our own people you know. Gone bad, gone corrupt and paying for it now.’’

  “Commander, we’re getting comms from the convict holding area,’’ a nearby technician called out.

  Davila inhaled sharply, held her breath, then exhaled to calm herself. She told herself she could handle this. She’d been at the top of her class at the Space Merchant Marine Academy and hostage negotiation had been part of the curriculum. She spun around to face the view screen and ordered the technician to activate the line.

  The calm composure she’d obtained mere moments ago almost fled when the two hardened faces appeared on the screen. The first was female, brunette, weathered, but still beautiful. The other face was that of a man still in his thirties, but who had seen his share of tough times, his features lined with exhaustion and stress. He had bags under his eyes that not even the latest cosmetic surgery could erase, but Davila knew he wore those bags like badges of honor.

  “Kevanna and Cedric Coogan,’’ Davila murmured. It would have to be these two, she thought.

  “Good morning, Ilena,’’ Kevanna greeted, smugly. “I’m sorry we had to meet again under such circumstances.’’

  “What’s the meaning of this attack?’’ Davila demanded. “You killed three of my people, but you’ll get no more, I promise you. Now, surrender yourselves and I will put you back in hibernation for the rest of the trip.’’

  “Pretty as you please, eh?’’ Cedric retorted, acidly. “No repercussions. Just go back into deep freeze and for what?’’

  “A chance to live, that’s what,’’ Davila replied, haughtily.

  “Oh, that’s rich, Davila,’’ Kevanna shot back. “That’s the reason Cedric and I have done this. It took a long time and a great deal of effort back on Earth, but we found a way to short-circuit the length of time we’d be in hibernation. Just long enough for the guards to be lulled into a dull routine, so we could wake up and have an excellent chance of getting the drop on them.’’

  “Well, it looks like you succeeded,’’ Davila said. “As for what you accomplished in the long run, well, that remains to be seen.’’

  “You think you can just take us out into space and forget all about us?’’ Cedric asked. “You think that’s a real solution?’’

  “The voters agreed to it, Cedric,’’ Davila replied, curtly. “You know the crime problem on Earth and the colonies are out of control. We have no more room for prisons, but the outer ring mining colonies need people badly. If you and the other convicts work a year there, the governing body will eliminate five years from your sentences.’’

  “That’s if we survive there a year,’’ Kevanna snorted. “The mortality rate among the miners is almost twenty percent. So, we’re just cannon fodder for Earth, right? No one cares about us, so what if a few hundred maximum-security convicts bite the dust, huh? That’s real humane, Commander. Mercurial as always.’’

  Davila didn’t know how much longer she could maintain her cool. These two had the nerve to talk about being humane? They and the rest of the convicts onboard the ship had committed hundreds of rapes, murders, assaults and other slightly less vicious crimes. In Davila’s mind, taking them out to the colonies was being humane.

  “You could just as easily have been executed for what you did, Kevanna,’’ Davila snapped. “Those young girls were under your protection, to be trained for the merchant fleet, not to be sex slaves for the depravities of you and your husband.’’

  “Look, Ilena,’’ Cedric interrupted. “We’re letting our emotions get the better of us. Kevanna and I were sick, depressed by the long voyages for the merchant fleet, but that’s beside the point. The real point is that we may be convicts, but we’re still human beings. We have rights, basic rights. You and the others may act lugubrious about our fates, but we’re still society’s children and you can’t just throw us away.’’

  “You don’t get it, do you?’’ Davila asked. “This is the best you’re going to get and big, fancy words aren’t going to change that. I’m going to send my people in and put down this little insurrection right now. I’m tired of talking.’’

  “Not so fast, Commander,’’ Cedric interjected.

  Kevanna disappeared off the screen for a moment. Then, she was back and the view on the screen had panned back for a broader view of the convict area communications center. Kevanna held an obviously frightened young woman in her arms. Davila was stunned. Where had this young woman come from?

  “Oh, crap,’’ a technician said, inhaling sharply. “She’s from the kitchen staff.’’

  Davila made a slashing move across her throat and the audio was cut to the screen. She looked over at the female technician sternly. The woman looked embarrassed.

  “A lot of the kitchen staff flirt with the guards,’’ the technician explained. “They’re always finding excuses to go down to the convict area. I tried to warn them not to do it, but they thought that since the convicts were all frozen, it’d be all right.’’

  Davila cursed under her breath and let her head hang. She could have kicked herself. Hadn’t other commanders before her suffered the same problem? Sexual liaisons among males and females had always been one of the lingering problems for the space fleet. She thought she had eliminated that on her ship with her directives, but now she realized the young people had just gotten craftier and now, right or wrong, they were paying for it.

  “Cut in the audio.’’

  “I see from your face that you know we are holding the kitchen staff hostage,’’ Kevanna said when the sound cut back in. “Cute, isn’t she? I could even overcome the technological suppression implants for this little thing. I don’t think her mommy and daddy would like it though. It would be a little acrimonious. Don’t you agree?’’

  “Insolent, morose, heedless and churlish, maybe, but not acrimonious,’’ Davila retorted, petulantly, trying hard to hide her humiliation. “What are your demands?”

  “Now you’re on the right page,’’ Cedric answered. “Our proposal is simple. Shangri-La.’’

  Davila gasped. She’d almost forgotten that little chestnut of legislation defeated so many years ago, but she knew Kevanna and Cedric were smart enough to have found it in the archives. It may have been a myopic plan at best, but some still found it palatable.

  Shangri-La referred to a mythical Utopia, an idyllic Eden that was the setting for a James Hilton novel in the early 20th century. It was also a failed attempt to rid Earth of criminals by creating a convict-run settlement with no supervision. Proponents argued that it would get the criminals out of sight and out of mind, but opponents noted that there was no justice in leaving convicts who really wanted to reform at the tender mercies of the absolute worst of the worst. Neither side was eager for the convicts to have access to the technology needed to run the colony.

  “You know it’s the right way, Commander,’’ Kevanna said, still holding the hostage. “It worked for Australia and it can work for us.’’

  Davila held her tongue. She knew that Australia was really the example being played out with the mining colonies – convicts working off their time under guard, for a chance to build a new life. Cedric had to be kidding himself. He was intelligent, brash and scurrilous, among other things, but he was not an administrator.

  “It’ll never work, Cedric,’’ Davila finally stated. “Do you really think Earth will agree to such a deal? We don’t negotiate with terrorists and criminals. The public still cares about law and order.’’

  “Wrong,’’ Cedric snapped, his demeanor changing from bemused to deadly serious. “The public cares about the bottom line. That’s the way it’s always been, otherwise, they’d have paid for much better safety systems in the mining colonies. No, you know Shangri-La is viable. You still have to send us food, water and other things for habitability, but you won’t need to feed, clothe or support the vast network of guards a
nd administrators needed to keep watch over us. No billions of credits for patrols and for hiring and training new guards because you know the turnover rate out here is atrocious.

  “It doesn’t matter what you really think, does it, Commander? So, why don’t you skedaddle over to the long-range communications deck and send our demands back to Earth? We’ll be waiting for your reply.’’

  “Oh, and I’d warn you against trying anything stupid,’’ Kevanna added. “But, we both know you will.’’

  “Communication lost,’’ a technician reported.

  Davila looked over her shoulder and saw her first officer, Karel Visjnic, walking onto the bridge. He looked rather haggard and she guessed he’d been to the convict area. Then, she saw the nasty-looking burn hole in his right sleeve.

  “What happened?’’

  “They totally control the convict holding area,’’ Visjnic reported, out of breath. “I heard your conversation and they’re right. They must have about a dozen hostages. I got a few guards into an auxiliary room, but it ended up in a big firefight. We couldn’t really cut loose because of the hostages, but that didn’t stop the convicts from letting us have it. The room almost became a charnel house.’’

  “How many did you lose?’’ Davila asked, her eyes reflecting her concern.

  “One dead, three wounded, not including myself,’’ the first officer replied. “But, I’m okay. Second-degree burns. Doc already sprayed it. All he could do. We sealed off the auxiliary room. They couldn’t penetrate that blast door with what’s available to them. It should hold more than long enough to try an end-around.’’

  Davila knew an “end-around” was a classic police tactic for space vessels whereby officers made a space walk down to the area next to the engine output. There, they’d enter the ship through one of the many exhaust vents. The heat in the exhaust was usually enough to incinerate even a man in an advanced space suit, but, a good technician could use emergency cooling procedures to bring the heat down enough for a police force to make it through to the safe area. In this case, it would put an entry force into the compartments behind those held by the convicts.

  “Can’t do it,’’ Davila shot back.

  “I know it can work,’’ the first officer said, adamantly. “I’ve done it before, with the Cullaphon mutiny.’’

  “They’d be expecting it, Karel,’’ Davila replied. “Right down to every nook and cranny.’’

  Visjnic was dumbfounded. Only a few highly placed people could know the exact procedure for an end-around. An enemy might suspect it, but that wasn’t the same as knowing exactly where, when and how it would occur. If the knowledge was suddenly available to anybody, it made the police force almost ineffective in hostage situations, as far as using subterfuge.

  “So, are we supposed to give in to their demands?’’ he exclaimed, perturbed. “Exactly who are these people, Commander?’’

  “Everyone considers deep-space merchant vessels to be important commands,’’ Davila replied, as she climbed the ladder to the deck where she could send a high-priority signal back to the nearest command authority space station. “Commanders like me would know the procedures, and Kevanna Coogan was one of the best vessel commanders ever. As for Cedric, you know that police procedure book you swear by? He wrote it.’’

  To say that the Committee for Prison Reform was less than pleased at news of the hostage situation would have been an understatement. For Bree Adowale, Idris Munye and Nedra Sharon, it was a devastating setback. They had pushed for the relocation program to the outer mining colonies. Others, like General Madigan Carmichael and Siranna LeTroy, had wanted other measures to curb the exploding prison population.

  “What was it they said?’’ LeTroy commented wryly as the committee met in emergency session. “They were society’s children? How cute.’’

  “They brought up a good point, but one that can still be solved by the original plan,’’ Sharon replied, nervously tapping her fingernails on the tabletop. “If we can get it through their thick skulls that this is the best way for them to pay their debts to society.’’

  “Oh, let’s face it, Nedra, they’re the scum of the planet,’’ Gen. Carmichael said, gruffly. “Best be rid of them. Let them do their own thing, out of our hair.’’

  “Well, you would know best, wouldn’t you, sir?’’ Munye commented, bitterly. “You trained both Cedric and Kevanna.’’

  Carmichael gave Munye a dirty look.

  “Listen, all of this infighting isn’t doing any of us any good,’’ Adowale interrupted. “We haven’t told the relatives of the hostages what is happening, but we can’t hold it back forever. When they do find out, they’re going to demand answers. As painful as it is for me to say this – since I was one of the proponents – we have to let them go. That was the stipulation to gaining the votes of the others.’’

  The room was silent for a long time before Nedra Sharon let out a deep sigh.

  “There will be long-term repercussions on this, you know,’’ she said, slowly.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,’’ Carmichael replied, sullenly, looking less than pleased even though he’d gotten his way. “I’ll send the message out myself.’’

  In the time it took for the messages to make the journey to and from the ship, Visjnic had tried several attempts to gain access to the prison hold. It had gotten five more guards injured, one critically. Davila had more success, trading some of the ship’s extra food stores for half the hostages.

  “Well, you were correct, Commander,’’ Visjnic said, trying to hide his look of defeat with an air of defiance that was supercilious at best. “They've countered every move I know. Maybe sometimes it’s not good to be the best ship in the fleet. We keep getting the worst of the worst for prisoners. Any word from the committee, ma’am?’’

  Davila turned away from the communications console. By her demeanor, Visjnic could tell she had heard from the committee. She said nothing as she descended the ladder to the command level. For a long time, she remained silent and, no matter how condescending her mood seemed, Visjnic knew not to bother her when she was like this.

  “The committee has activated the fallback plan,’’ she finally said. “We have to cut them loose.’’

  “What?’’ Visjnic blurted. “After all the people they’ve killed, they get away with it? The committee must be joking.’’

  “Believe me, the committee has no sense of humor,’’ Davila shot back. “Get the Coogans on the comm link.’’

  “As we’ve agreed, we have released all but two of the hostages,’’ Kevanna Coogan said as she looked at Ilena Davila on the view screen. “Thank you for the provisions. They should be more than enough.’’

  “And you’ll put the last two hostages into space suits and hook them to the tether line between us, right?’’ Davila queried.

  “That’s what we agreed to,’’ Cedric Coogan replied, with a smirk. “Providing you don’t try to pull anything, like blasting us to smithereens once we’re free and clear.’’

  “You and Kevanna might have changed,’’ Davila retorted, offended, “but I haven’t. You have my word.’’

  The prison hold was a ship unto itself. It was designed to detach from the main vessel and fly down to the mining colonies separately. In this case, under the control of Kevanna and Cedric Coogan, it separated from the ship and slowly moved away from the main vessel. The only connection was a tether line, to which convicts attached the last two hostages before cutting the connection. As the hostages were slowly reeled in towards the main vessel, the prison ship moved off and, when safely away, jumped into hyperspace to the coordinates previously supplied for the failed Shangri-La movement.

  “As soon as those hostages are inside and secure, resume our original course,’’ Davila ordered as she stood before the main viewer, watching the prison ship disappear.

  “So, we do negotiate with terrorists,’’ Visjnic commented, clearly chafed. “This is an affront to decency. It’s going
to set a bad precedent. Bad enough they get away with it, but now the committee is going to let others prisoners go to Shangri-La if they choose.’’

  Davila said nothing.

  “So this is the new reality, dogma be damned,” Visjnic sniffed. “I guess they win.’’

  “That remains to be seen,’’ Davila replied, dourly. “They get Shangri-La. We get them off our hands. It’s the best of a bad situation, but, at least they’re someone else’s problem now.”

  The take-off from Earth had been smooth for Prison Vessel X-17. The trip to the jump-off point had gone just as smoothly, the two hundred-fifty hibernating convicts none the wiser. It had been five years since the Coogans had forced the committee’s hand and X-17 was the seventeenth vessel to reap the benefits of that action.

  At the jump-off point, the new engines kicked into overdrive and the ship jumped into hyperspace. Literally leaping across time and space, the jump cut the transport time to Shangri-La to almost nothing. It re-emerged intact at the designated coordinates.

  Shayna Wallace was the first to wake up after the jump. The thrice-convicted child molester was glad she’d volunteered to go to Shangri-La. She’d had it with the sexual repression therapy that left her as numb as a piece of stone. She stretched thoroughly after her sleeping chamber opened and allowed her to step out onto the deck.

  “What’s up with the heat?’’

  Shayna looked to her left and saw a mountain of a man stepping out of an adjacent chamber. She vaguely remembered him as Komar and that he had been serving life without parole for beating several people to death while strung out on a designer drug. She ignored him and finished her stretching, feeling the atrophy that had set into her muscle during the hibernation.