The prison Hades was situated in the midst of this large swampy hell, on a gigantic rocky cliff which jutted out from the water. The upper part of the cliff was totally flat where a dense forest had been cleared a long time ago by the first colonists. They probably were, hoping to find a place to start a new life. Because of the difficult conditions they had probably left, leaving behind a town known as Hadelian. Ten years after the colonist left, a scan of the area rendered this part as a good choice by the judicial authorities. The town was perfect for a prison because of its existing infrastructure, and therefore there was no need to look elsewhere. Its name was changed to Hade and became the Confederation’s most secure prison, from which there was no escape. Soon after, people who were caught on the wrong side of the law came to know quite painfully about the severity of the place. Hades became infamous as the place from where there was no return; except in an iron capsule.
At a distance, through the mist, the prison’s dark boundaries came to sight; it was as fearful from the outside as much as on the inside.
When Henry first saw the prison, he said the obvious, “What an ugly place!”
The pilot carefully examined the illuminated navigation screen. He usually didn’t like to be disturbed while flying the transporter, but he couldn’t help saying in a rough voice, “What the hell! I’m glad I don’t have to stay in this damned place!”
Henry looked at him and asked, “I am not talking about staying, even visiting is no fun.” Obviously, it was a comment Henry made aloud, more so to himself but loud enough for the pilot to respond.
“Wait till you get inside,” the pilot said gruffly.
“Why?” He asked.
“Because, of the prisoners; they’ve tried before to take a couple of transporters. They didn’t get successful in escaping the planet but continue to lie somewhere in these swamps; with pilots and their abductees. Luckily I don’t have to come here on a regular basis. Those bastards are dangerous as the Devil himself. Why do we have to come to such a damned place?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” Henry answered him calmly.
He looked at him through the dark visor of his control helmet and said, “Henry, I’ve seen so much crap in my life that a mere story ainʼt is gonna surprise me!”
“You think so?”
“I know so!”
Henry stroked his chin. “I’m going to get some prisoners out.”
The pilot stared confused at him for a moment and asked, “Are you kidding me? As far as I know, prisoners are only brought here. I’ve never heard of any prisoner ever being released from Hades.”
“I think they’ll release fifteen prisoners, even if they don’t want to go with me.”
“Are you serious? Fifteen prisoners? OK, this ainʼt sounding serious. Appears that you are attempting some bluff. You appear to be saying that the prisoners won’t go even if they are given a chance; that’s plain crazy. Who wouldn’t want to leave this shitty place?” He stopped for a moment and quickly typed something on the control panel, and then continued, “But if it’s true then you’re dead as soon as you get them out of here. They’ll simply kill you and take over our ship in orbit.”
Henry had two months to prepare for this task, and he was sure that every scenario was well studied. He looked at the pilot and asserted, “There’s a very tiny possibility of such a scenario.”
The pilot laughed, “Man, you’re totally crazy!”
“Crazier than you think,” Henry said without the slightest hint of a smile.
The pilot gave him a few seconds look. He couldn’t place Henry well. Henry appeared to be quite sane and in control, however, spoke like a demented man. The pilot didn’t like to drive the company of fools, more so when he was flying one around. Henry’s uniform notwithstanding, the pilot was least impressed with him. Nonetheless, he continued to attempt to understand Henry and his intentions. “Why do you need those maniacs?”
Henry stared at the blurred outlines of the prison which was now visible at a distance and said, “I want them to carry out an operation at a…. well, a not so nice place. They’re ideal.”
“Ha ha, they are ideal. Yes, although those maniacs couldn’t adapt anywhere else, they would easily be ideal for you.”
Henry stared at the pilot with hardly any emotion and calmly completed, “Believe me they are.”
The pilot was a bit lost and now had doubts about the man he was flying. He continued staring at him and said, “Sure! You just go and have fun with them.” He abruptly looked out and continued to maneuver the craft as they approached the huge prison complex; all the while acting if nothing really happened between him and Henry. He plugged in the communication console and its bluish light lit up his dark helmet.
About a second passed before a guard’s frowning face appeared on the screen and said with commanding voice, “Code!”
“99344422809.”
“Cleared to land on runway three.” The pilot then disconnected the console.
The pilot murmured to himself, obviously appearing annoyed at the man’s commanding tone, “Good day to you too, asshole!” When he noticed that Henrywas watching him, he added, “The guardsʼ reputation precedes them. Sometimes I ask myself who is worse the guard or the prisoner? Honestly, I’ve had a couple of problems with the guards, and I do not like them; not even a bit.” He then once again focused on the landing.
They saw a number of prisoners close to the outer wall, hanging on elastic ropes and clearing the dense vegetation with big machetes. Guards were standing above them, appearing equipped enough for a mini war. The prisoners would be damned if they even thought of escaping. As the transporter approached the prison premises, the prisoners stopped and watched the transporter curiously. That was enough for the guards to shout and direct them back to their work.
Only when the transporter flew over the high ridge and the wide wall, Henry realized the enormity of Hades prison. The rectangular three-storey buildings covered milesʼ and stretched right up to the horizon. Within the walls, there were wide roads on which the guards’ armored transporters were moving at low velocity. He also spotted little open squares where some prisoners were walking. When the prisoners spotted the transporter, they started jumping and waving.
The pilot just smiled and commented with a wry smile, “The fools. They think we are carrying food which will be dropped for them.”
Henry raised his eyebrows with interest and asked him, “Has anyone done that before?”
The pilot smiled with the mischief of a person knowing things better than many, “There are always idiots who, for different reasons, fight for prisoners’ rights. Occasionally they even succeed in coming and throwing food around here.”
Henry looked at the prisoners, who waved at them and asked with a bit of curiosity, “How come those guys manage to come to Hades when flyovers are forbidden? Isn’t this Hades? The well-protected prison. ”
The pilot shook his head said, “You should ask the Warden. He allows it. He says it lightens the mood. Yeah, that is all right, I guess!”
Henry smiled but could not miss cynicism in the pilot’s voice. He continued the conversation, “Is it bad to have the mood uplifted?”
The pilot for a moment looked at him and muttered apparently irritated by his question, “Only one thing is true – it improves the status of his bank account. He’s paid more than enough!”
Henry didn’t quite concede to the Pilot’s argument or thoughts. It was at the end benefitting the prisoners too. That would still not be a bad deal. So, what if the warden makes some money? He felt like sharing his views, “but that works for the prisoners too.”
The pilot chuckled as he hardly cared about anyone at the prison. He said, “They receive only the leftovers. The ships have to pass a rigorous search before a flyover, so the best parts go to the guards.”
The main administration building stood out from the others in Hades. For miles around there were
n’t any other building other than the massive watchtowers. On the towers, Henry spotted some rocket launchers and high energy guns, held by the watch tower guards. The entire building was surrounded by huge boundary walls with warning signs that read, ‘Danger High voltage.’ On the runway beside the building, he noticed numerous varieties of aircraft. Henry expected that they would land somewhere between those aircraft, but the pilot landed on the top of the building instead; a single special spot. He shut down the engine, lifted his black visor and gravely fixed his gaze on Henry.
“This is the first time I’ve landed on the building. You must be one important person!”
Henry didn’t give him an answer because he could see a tall, ascetic-looking man in a gray suit approaching them with his right hand behind his back. He was being escorted by four guardsmen in battle suits. He wasn’t able to see them through the dusky glass, but Henry still had a feeling that he was watching them. His tiny brown eyes were directed straight towards him, making his feel uncomfortable.
The pilot turned pale when he saw him and swore angrily. “Why the hell has the Warden come?” He slapped himself on the forehead, realizing that he shouldn’t have told Henry all the gossip that he had heard at the station. “That’s just what I need now! Me and my loose tongue!”
Henry tapped him on his shoulder. “It’s all right! That conversation remains between the two of us.”
“I hope so; otherwise I will lose my job.” With the forefinger of his right hand, he pressed a little panel on the left sleeve of his pilot jacket and; an exit ramp started to descend on the runway.
Henry picked up his black briefcase, turned, and said, “At first sight, I don’t like him either.”
The pilot laughed and opened the transporter door. While Henry was getting down the ramp, he said, “I have to confess, you’re really weird!”
Henry waved and got off the transporter. The Warden was waiting for him at the bottom of the ramp, watching him with suspicion. Although the Warden did not make it apparent but Henry knew that the Warden was definitely not delighted to have such a business visit. But the Warden, well-trained as he was, put on his most cordial show, smiled and shook hands with Henry.
“Brigadier Henry Broncon?”
Henry accepted his ice cold hand; he felt like he was shaking hands with an iceberg. His appearance irritated Henry at first, and the feeling was expressed involuntarily in cold reply, “Yes.”
The warden seemed unfazed, for a moment is stared at Henry’s face, appeared to be estimating his moves and introduced himself nonetheless, “Hildebur Haerten, prison warden. Glad to meet you.” He looked askance at the pilot, who had started descending the ramp, and was non-accepting of him for some reason. He watched the pilot with a razor-sharp gaze, and with a distinct touch of cynicism he asked Henry, “I hope you had a pleasant flight? I have flown a couple of times by transport aircraft and was not impressed by the pilots.”
Henry looked at the pilot over his shoulder, but the pilot remained expressionless. He hardly bothered anyways. Henry, despite their earlier conversation, liked the pilot. He was aware that the pilot heard what the dumb warden had said, but he chose to not react. Henry then looked questioningly at the warden’s face and asserted, “The flight was very pleasant! Extremely pleasant!” Then with a commanding voice, he asked, “Have you done what had been asked of you?”
The Warden was not amused by Henry’s response, especially, at not being sided with. He anyway had his reservations on serving Henry’s request which was to do with the release of a prisoner. For all he cared, he would have rather left them to rot in that swampy hell. For a moment he gave Henry an unfriendly glare and responded, “Yes, everything is ready. But if I can say…”
Henry stopped him in the middle of his sentence, and his face visibly raging, “Your comment isn’t relevant! The Army doesn’t allow any discussion on their decisions.” Henry looked him directly in the eye. “Besides, the President himself approved this action.”
At the mention of the President, the Warden’s face turned pale. He hated Hades from the bottom of his soul and staying there long-term was not an option he wished to exercise. His file was clean, and he wanted it to stay that way. He lowered his gaze to the floor and carefully began to speak, “I didn’t want to question his decision. On the contrary, I agree with him completely, and I have already done everything that was ordered.”
“Glad to hear that. I’d like to see the prisoners immediately!”
He tried to give his best stiff smile; it seemed as though he had put a grotesque mask on his pale face. He nodded his head and gestured for Henry to follow him, this time talking with more tactical politeness, “It won’t be any problem, they have all been transported to this building, and they are waiting for us. Please follow me to their cells.”
They headed towards the elevator guarded by, two armed men. As they approached the elevator, the guard on the right pressed the button to open the door.
“You’ve got excellent security,” Henry said.
For a second or two the Warden seemed to absently watch the door of the lift in front of him, and then he looked at him over his shoulder, “These are the best guards in the entire quadrant and the reason I’m still alive.” He quickened his steps and got in the elevator. When it started to descend he asked Henry, “Do you know, Mr. Broncon, how many wardens were killed before I arrived here in Hades?”
“Frankly, I don’t know.”
He nodded. Who would be interested in dead wardens, he thought but nevertheless came up with the answer. “Ten, Mr. Broncon. I had no intentions of dying like my colleagues, so I took steps to not repeat their mistakes. The first and most fundamental were security in the main prison building.” He stopped for a moment and took a small, flat box from his pocket with trembling hands. From it, he took a red pill which he put in his mouth and swallowed with a jerk of his head, “After the first attempt on my life, I had all the surrounding buildings destroyed, and the land cleared.”
Henry responded, “I noticed that as we were flying in. It looked like a prison within a prison.”
The Warden laughed checking himself and then fell silent.
Henry realized that somehow he had played with the Warden’s sensitive spot. Just to start the conversation again, he asked him mundane questions around the prison. “How do you control prisoners?”
Warden was obviously pleased with this question because he got to show his ability to manage the prison. He immediately answered, “Simple. Each prisoner has a micro-bomb surgically built into their neck, and bracelet communicators on their wrists through which we can call them when necessary.”
“And if they don’t respond to your call?”
“Then it starts a countdown until the prisoner appears on the main street for our transporters to pick up. If they don’t then a transmitter activates the bomb. The same goes for escapees; if they get too far, out of the reach of the receiver receiving the signal, the bomb automatically explodes.”
Henry had to admit that, even though the procedure was cruel, it was certainly necessary, “It seems to be effective.”
The Warden smiled and asserted, “Since I had taken over the prison there hadn’t been any escape attempts.”
The elevator stopped at the lowest level of the principal building, the door of the elevator opened, and they stepped out onto a long corridor. They were deep underground, but there was no dampness seen on the walls, showing the quality of the building. Henry followed the Warden and his escort to a massive door at the end of the corridor. Two miniature cameras followed their movements and retracted into the wall when a small group approached them. At the door, an older bearded guard with a dry face saluted and moved aside.
The control room was semi-circular. A large panel board dominated the room, near which sat another guard, who carefully watched the holo-screens and did not turn towards them. The Warden approached the toughened glass which protected the entire front wall of t
he control room. Five yards below, Henry saw approximately twenty narrow cells in which there were prisoners. All of them were dressed in orange overalls with huge identification numbers on their chests. Most of them were lying on beds, waiting, since they didn’t know why they had been brought there.
Warden observed the prisoners and asked the guards who were sitting at a panel board, “John, did you have any problem?”
“Yes, only with prisoner 743387.”
“Van de Mort! We should have expected something like that from him. Did you give him a penalty?”
“Yes, but it hasn’t really worked. Right now he’s trying to pull out the bars to get to prisoner 800234 who are a couple of cells away.”
Warden wasn’t surprised and concluded, “Vandor Bult. They don’t like each other very much. Is he causing any problem?”
“No sir, he’s sitting there with a cunning grin, but now and then he passes comments at Van de Mort.”
“I don’t doubt that. Is Van de Mort still on the grids?”
“Yes.”
“Shake him a little!”
“With what strength must I do it?”
Warden changed his mind; he wanted to do it himself so that he could get a good dose of the sadistic pleasure, “Wait; I’ll take care of him.” He approached the control panel, adjusted a dial to its maximum and then pressed the red button underneath. Van de Mort froze and stopped shouting. His fingers turned white where he was holding onto the grids, and his whole body started to shake. The Warden watched his face turn blue and seemed happy to see the entire event. When the Warden finally unplugged the power supply Van de Mort fell down to the floor. The Warden leaned over the microphone and asked in an icy voice, “How was it, prisoner? Do you want more?”
Godeena: SF Novel Page 2