Two drones zipped through the clouds that shrouded the planet, and approached. They both locked their motion torpedoes on the Phalanx-E.
“You have failed to automatically authenticate. Please identify yourselves,” the monotone voice said through the open CW channel.
“We’re here on authority of Admiral Morgan. This is JP Danick. My copilot is JP Lassea. We’re under the command of Captain Mach.”
Good, Mach thought. They were already starting to think on their feet. Despite not having the quintuplets to handshake and confirm a landing position, Danick used the weight of Morgan as leverage. The prison security wouldn’t dare go against an admiral from Fides Prime and impose the non-CW approved taxes.
The drone didn’t respond. Mach knew it would be replaying the message back to flight control, and guessed they’d be in pointless debate before coming to the predictable conclusion that the Phalanx-E would be permitted to land.
Mach twisted an atomic blue capsule between his fingers. He considered swallowing it for a brief moment. Although it provided an unbeatable rush and quickened his thinking, buying out a prisoner was a mundane routine. It also had hallucinogenic properties when mixed with alcohol, which proved handy in certain situations. He slipped it back into his breast pocket.
“You are free to use bay five,” the drone said over the speaker. “We will escort you down.”
Coordinates flashed across the console screen. Mach rolled his eyes. Summanus was king of officiousness in the Salus Sphere.
“Thank you,” Lassea said and smiled across at her brother. “We’re coming in for landing.”
The shuttle descended through the black clouds and rocked around in the tropospheric turbulence. Lightning flashed across the sky and rain pelted against the cockpit window.
Bright lights formed a square below them. The perimeter of the prison. Mach remembered the electronic ring they placed around his neck when being admitted. If an inmate attempted to escape and passed the outer boundary, the ring automatically tightened around their neck for every meter they went beyond. Thirty meters led to strangulation. They had a different type for every species.
Lassea thrust and the Phalanx-E bumped against solid ground. The side door slid open and cool air rushed inside. Mach stood and wrapped his collar up. “You two wait here. I’ll be half an hour.”
“One of us can come with you,” Danick said.
“I think I’ll be all right,” Mach said. These twins had potential, but it was still early days. He reminded himself that he was once a young green officer, wanting to impress but lacking in experience. “We’re going to a local bar tonight. Get some food into your guts.”
“We don’t drink,” Lassea said.
Mach raised his eyebrows. “We’ll see about that.”
He turned and headed out into the darkness. Rain splattered against Mach’s head and he tucked his neck against the back of his collar. Thunder rumbled overhead and a bolt of lightning forked across the sky, silhouetting the distant mountains.
The imposing square gray concrete structure of the prison, lined with hundreds of security lights, lay directly in front. He splashed across the landing strip, past two old rectangular supply shuttles, and headed for the entrance. It was a smart place to build a prison. Anyone who escaped would end up in a bigger kind of hell if they avoided being choked to death.
A guard with a bushy beard opened the door as Mach neared the entrance. He jogged the last few meters, nodded his appreciation to the guard and swept back his soaked hair.
“Why has Admiral Morgan sent you?” a stern-looking fidian woman, dressed in a black warden’s uniform, said from behind the reception desk.
“He didn’t send me, but I have his authority,” Mach said. “I’m here to buy out one of your inmates.”
“Who do you want?”
Mach knew the price would double if he told her. “I need some crew. If one of your people could give me a guided tour…”
“I can’t waive the extra ten percent without the admiral’s approval.”
“Do you want me to message him and give him your details?”
The fidian leaned over her desk and scowled. “I’m letting you off with the landing tax. If you want this to be quick, you’ll pay freeworlder prices.”
“Didn’t you see the CW shuttle outside?”
“Didn’t you forget your authentication quintuplets? You can go through the official process and spend two days here. I’ve got all the time in the Salus Sphere.”
“Fair enough,” Mach said. The staff always skimmed and this guard was an experienced player. “Let’s get this over with. I want to get out of this shithole.”
She gave him a lingering glare and pushed a solid white ring across the desk. “Confirm you have credit.”
Mach wondered if the weather had taken over the guard’s mind. She could’ve been replaced by an AI-drive cyborg with more personality. He placed his wrist through the ring and a green light on top of it beeped.
The guard nodded toward a squat bald human partner, who stood by a thick internal steel door. He swiped his security pass against the pad and the door to the prison block clanked open.
“This way, please,” the squat guard said.
Following the guard through another security door that led to the cells, Mach peered along the brightly lit ten-meter-wide corridor at the light blue walls and shiny red floor, polished every day by prisoners. Nothing had changed in twenty years on A-wing.
At the end, two more corridors split off at right angles, giving the prison building a huge T-shape when viewed from above. B-wing and solitary confinement, the latter housing the most dangerous and disruptive inmates.
One hundred metallic doors lined either side of A-wing. Each had a small transparent viewing window and a digital display below it, giving the inmate’s name, fine and period of incarceration.
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” the guard said.
“A human. Nobody who’s been in here for more than a few months,” Mach said, trying to narrow the parameters for a quick find. He felt sure the miserable guard at the desk watched and listened through the security feed, ready to increase the price on the digital display of anyone he named directly. “I’d rather not have anyone from the defense force either. Too institutionalized for what I have planned.”
The guard nodded. “We’ve got a few options. Follow me.”
He led Mach to a cell halfway along the corridor. “Loppy Wood. He’s been here six weeks. Caught smuggling on Salus Gamma.”
Mach gazed through the window at the thin man, dressed in the prison’s green coverall, who lay on his bed in the corner of the cramped sparse cell. He rubbed his chin, feigning interest. “He looks a bit on the skinny side. Are you starving them?”
“I have to eat the same meals,” the guard said and slapped his bulging gut. “Do I look malnourished?”
“Not at all, you’re fine specimen. This one isn’t quite right. Can I see more?”
The guard continued along the corridor and showed him a few more pirates and smugglers. Mach held his nerve. Not that many inmates would fit his requirements.
Finally, after being shown two more cells on B-wing, they came to Ernie’s.
His fine was two million eros. The right amount for a double homicide of lactern dignitaries. Ernie sat against the wall with forearms resting on his knees, the coverall hiding the Fides Gamma animals tattooed all over his body. Mach hadn’t seen him clean shaven with a buzz cut before. He always had long black shaggy hair and a thick handlebar mustache.
“Had much trouble from this one?” Mach asked.
“He’s only been out of solitary for two days. Smashed up two lacterns in the showers after they attacked him.”
“Sounds ideal for what I want. I’ll take this one.”
The guard shrugged. “There isn’t any more that fit your description. Personally I’d take Loppy.”
“He doesn’t suit my needs. Prepare the transfer.” Mac
h turned and glanced along the opposite corridor. He still needed another crew member and wondered if any of his acquaintances were locked up. “How many have you got in solitary?”
“Ten at the moment. Mostly horans.”
“What about the others?”
“A lactern spy and a real mean bitch serving life for killing twelve high-ranking officers.”
Mach had read about Adira’s arrest last month, but her location was kept secret. She was exactly the kind of person he needed. A ruthless CW assassin, considered the best in the Salus Sphere. He guessed she had taken the fall for superior officers. Adira was too careful to make that kind of move without being under orders.
“What’s her price?”
“You can’t buy her out. Nobody can.”
“Are you sure we can’t come to some arrangement?” Mach said and gave the guard his best smile. “I can make a direct payment if you help me out.”
The guard sighed. “Sorry. I’d end up replacing her if I let her go.”
“I understand. I’ll take…” Mach squinted at the display below the cell window, keeping up the act in case of any complications back at reception. “Ernesto Sanchez, and be on my way.”
Adira would be leaving Summanus on the Phalanx-E. If they wouldn’t let Mach pay for her, he had little option but to bust her out. Once he had Ernie safely out of the building, they needed a plan.
Chapter 8
A gust of wind blew across the dark landing strip, spraying ice-cold rain against Mach’s face. He jogged toward the Phalanx-E and the side door opened, throwing out a shaft of light into the gloom. Sanchez followed, looking more like his normal self, dressed in a dark brown leather jacket and trousers made from balto hide.
Mach’s boot splashed through puddles on the floor and he sped up the ramp. Lassea worked at the back of the shuttle on the damaged interior, running diagnostics through a pad balanced on her lap.
Danick sat at the cockpit and turned in his chair. “Did you get what you came—” His eyes widened as Sanchez’s large frame entered the shuttle.
Sanchez glanced around its dull interior and shook his head. “They don’t make ’em like they used to.”
“Let me introduce you to Sanchez, Ernesto Sanchez,” Mach said. “He’s officially part of our crew.”
Lassea placed down the pad, approached the big man, and slowly extended a hand as if placing it into a predator’s open mouth. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ernesto Sanchez.”
Sanchez smiled down at her, flashing his two gold front teeth. “A sprog from the fleet, eh? What’s this crazy bastard had you doing? Oh, and call me Sanchez.”
“We’re here to help him find the Atlantis ship,” Lassea said.
Silence filled the shuttle. Sanchez’s smile dropped. He turned to Mach. “You busted me out to search for a myth?”
“A myth doesn’t destroy an orbital station,” Mach said. “I’ve seen the footage. It exists and could make us both rich, far richer than running some rusty guns.”
“How are we supposed to capture it in this thing? It doesn’t even have basic weapons.”
“That’s for us to work out. But we have a more immediate priority. We need more crew members… I want to break Adira out.”
“Adira? She’s in max security solitary, you know that, right?”
Mach shrugged. “I’m sure we can put our heads together.”
“Why do you want her, of all people? I heard she once tried to remove your testicles from your body with a steak knife.”
Lassea eyed Mach with a hint of alarm.
“That’s just her take on a romantic evening. But seriously, Sanchez, we’re not going anywhere until we have her onboard. You know this place better than I; I need you, man.”
Sanchez sighed and rubbed his thick hand across his chin, the rough skin of his fingers scraping across the stubble, the sound rasping like glass-paper against wood.
“I’ll help you break her out and stay with you for a month to find this Moby Dick of a ship—on your dime, but not a day longer. Oh, and I want fifty percent of any proceeds.”
“Fifty?” Mach said, incredulous. “Twenty-five. I’ve got costs and a better ship to arrange. I’m on the favor of a minor CW dignitary. I don’t have an endless budget here.”
“Forty,” Sanchez said.
“Thirty, and that’s my final offer. Any more than that, and it’d be cost effective for me to have you go back inside.”
“Fine, I can live with that,” Sanchez said with a satisfied grin. He spat in his hand and held it forward. Mach shook it, the warm saliva smudging against his palm.
Danick joined them in the midsection and stood next to his sister. “We can’t be involved with this. Everyone in the Fides system knows about Adira’s murders.”
“You’re here to follow my orders,” Mach said. “Download the prison plans from the central database and get them up on screen.”
The JPs stood looking at him like a pair of lost puppies. Sanchez moved behind them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “You better listen to the man. I’ve seen him in a bad mood, and let me tell you, it ain’t a pretty sight.”
Mach loved Sanchez’s style of passive-aggressive persuasion, but his other skills got him on this particular mission.
“I’ll have them up for you in two minutes,” Lassea said and brushed Sanchez’s hand off her shoulder. “For the record, I don’t like being touched.”
Sanchez laughed and sat on the soft leather captain’s chair. “Fides Primes and their stiff culture. You need to relax a little.”
Danick and Lassea sat at the cockpit controls and worked the holocontrols to get the required information. If Mach could find a way out, that didn’t involve passing reception, he was confident of springing Adira.
“Did Adira really try to kill you?” Lassea said.
“It was a long time ago.” Mach thought back to the encounter. Apparently he was the only person alive in the Salus Sphere to survive one of her attempts. “I’ve spoken to her since, in a sense. There’s no hard feelings.”
“I’d be careful,” Sanchez said. “If she had a contract on you, I wouldn’t put it past her to cash in at the first available opportunity. I would.”
Mach shook his head. “It’s over, trust me. Get what tools you need to break off her security neck-ring. I’ve already thought of a way to get inside.”
Sanchez grunted and heaved himself from the chair. He walked toward the back of the shuttle and pulled open the hatches on the unbuckled left-hand side.
“I pulled in a favor from one of my friends at HQ,” Lassea said.
The 3D technical designs for the prison flashed across the left screen above the cockpit. Mach studied the designs. They had to have emergency exits in case of a fire. The CW was health and safety mad, and wouldn’t have only one point of access. He spread his finger and thumb on the console and zoomed in on the solitary wing.
The wall thinned on a one-meter section at the end of the corridor. He checked B-wing and it had the same feature. False walls that could be blasted through, or brought down by a group of angry horans at full sprint. It initially seemed convenient, but he remembered his time in prison. Armed guards stood in front of the walls whenever cells opened and inmates were strictly controlled.
Mach’s suspicion proved correct. He now had a way in and a way out. The last thing required was access to the cells. For that he’d need a security card.
“Are you two ready for a drink?” he said to Danick and Lassea.
“We’ve already told you—” Danick said.
“Start to live a little. You’ll appreciate these little downtimes in a week or two.”
Lassea disabled the holocontrols and stood. Sanchez appeared from the back of the shuttle, holding a cylinder-shaped multipurpose electro-tool. “Did somebody mention a drink?”
Mach nodded. “We’re going to find a security swipe.”
A small group of buildings clustered around an apartment block half a klick from
the shuttle. Mach headed for their dim lights and caught up on the latest Salus gossip with Sanchez. All of it was standard. The outer planets expected war. Pirates were still a problem, and there was still good money to be made smuggling.
Danick and Lassea trudged along beside them, shielding their faces from the rain that swept across the road.
Prison staff and a few crazy people who decided to make Summanus their home lived in apartments. A CW defense force station, a bar stocked with only basic goods, and a derelict clothing shop spread around its base.
Staff and visitors frequented the bar. It was an easier spot to find an off-duty guard to target. Failing that, they’d have to visit a few apartments and find an unoccupied one to burgle.
A crackling red light hung above a set of steel doors. Not the most welcoming place, but it suited the rest of the planet. People nicknamed it The Bar With No Name.
Mach entered and glanced around.
Two crimson-colored horans sat at a table near the front, in frayed old black battle dress. Both turned and stared through their lizard yellow eyes. He continued past them and headed straight for the long filthy gray metallic bar at the end of the room.
Two guards sat on stools and leaned over their drinks. A single fidian, dressed in a blue robe, stood behind the bar and rested his hands on the electric drink pumps.
“Take a seat in the corner,” Mach said to Sanchez. “I’ll get us all a star-chaser.”
“You got it,” Sanchez said, leading the JPs to a circular table on the right-hand side.
“What can I get you?” the fidian said.
“Four chasers, please.” Mach held his smart-screen over the shiny black payment plate. The fidian registered the order on its console and the plate bleeped.
Mach glanced at the two guards from the corner of his eye. Neither had a security swipe attached to their belts, but they might still be carrying it. The fidian filled four medium-sized glasses with blue liquid and pushed them across the sticky metal surface of the bar. He clasped his hands around the glasses and headed for the table.
The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera Page 6