by Chris Ward
‘One that cannot go unpunished. Your ship has been impounded until further notice. You and the rest of your human and subspecies crew have been found guilty of theft.’
‘I don’t recall a trial—’
‘Rock Haven’s law does not require you to be present.’
‘Hang on a minute—’
‘You have been sentenced to seven Earth-years of hard labor on the prison asteroid of Phuffu.’ Adjunct Seefonik turned around, her movements reminding Lia of a tank trying to make a U-turn. ‘I trust you will spend the time when you are not at the whip meditating on your actions. So you do not make the same mistakes again upon your eventual release.’
Caladan lifted his only hand. ‘Wait—’
Adjunct Seefonik rose onto her rearmost pair of legs, and a spray of gray gunk coated Caladan’s chest. He tried to wipe it away, but the sticky substance contracted, holding him tight. Lia tried to look pitiful to spare herself the same fate, but it did no good. Adjunct Seefonik doused her too. ‘I will call the guards to take you to the prison transport,’ she said. ‘Your ship and possessions will be dealt with by an independent tribunal.’
Lia opened her mouth to protest, but a globule of gunk slid off her upper lip, sticking her teeth together. She looked at Caladan, who was also unable to speak, but she could tell what he was thinking, and it wasn’t good.
2
Caladan
The prisoner hold of the lumbering prison ship Crampus was a community onto itself. After reaching deep-space cruising speed, all bonds were released and prisoners could interact freely with each other. Overhead, automatic gun emplacements followed every movement, flashing into life to cut down anyone who got involved in a physical altercation. The rest quickly learned keeping the peace was in their best interests, even though several traditionally warring races were contained in the same area.
Several huge view-screens set into the walls showed their progress through space, for the most part a sea of stars with occasional annotations in multiple languages flashed up to indicate certain known systems. On another wall, a computer representation gave a repeating detailed description of the Crampus’s design and features. A surprising number of prisoners had gathered to watch the revolving 3D image of a gray box wider at one end than the other, which flew cocked over into a diamond shape, its thrusters embedded into two outer corners. Caladan had wondered if it might inadvertently give some clue to an escape route, but the internal views only focused on the bridge and crew quarters, ignoring the prison hold and the engine rooms.
Lia had wandered off to hunt out information. Caladan tried to find an interest in a pseudo-gambling circle where the only thing being waged was a bucket of fake coins provided by the guards, but without some real risk it failed to capture his interest. Instead, he found himself gravitating to one of the view-screens, sitting among a cluster of off-worlders, a few humans and subspecies.
When an annotation flashed up to announce a distant dot was Trill star, a grumble rose from the group, which to now had watched with disinterest. Caladan turned to a man beside him who was shaking a fist at the screen. ‘You came out of there? Any news?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing. Trying to get in was my crime.’
‘Your crime?’
‘It wasn’t yours?’
Caladan shrugged. ‘Likely it was one of them, but no. I’m here for attempted smuggling.’
‘Word is that Trill System is being annexed from the Estron Quadrant. A definite point of space time has been suggested, and beyond that point no vessels are permitted to enter or leave.’
Caladan shrugged. Objectively, he agreed, having witnessed at first hand the destruction taking place inside Trill System. Last reports out of the mightiest of the Fire Quarter’s seven systems was the two most populated planets, Feint and Cable, were now under the control of a combined enemy consisting of a world-eating Bareleon Helix, its associated fleet, and the forces of the warlord Raylan Climlee, which included a mercenary Shadowmen navy and their enslaved Evattlan foot soldiers. The Trill System Spacefleet, the largest in the Fire Quarter, had been defeated, and while pockets of resistance still came from many of the outlying planets, Trill was set to become a wasteland unless other systems came to its aid.
‘My captain’s mother lives on Cable,’ Caladan said. ‘And there’s a possibility her husband and son are captives of Raylan Climlee. She has reasons to get back into Trill System.’
‘And so you ended up here, on a prison ship at the other end of the quadrant?’
‘Taking the scenic route, I guess.’
‘Where’s your ship now?’ the man asked.
‘We were docked at Rock Haven’s spaceport, but it got impounded. We had an autopilot malfunction. The ship initiated a launch sequence which drew too much attention. We got searched and they dumped us with a smuggling charge for something we hadn’t got around to offloading, due to yet another malfunction in the crane system.’
The man shrugged. ‘Unfortunate. They’ve been tightening the laws for some time. You drink?’
Caladan nodded. ‘Of course.’
The man reached into a pocket and withdrew a hipflask. ‘Stillwater out of Cask System.’ He winked at Caladan. ‘The best in the known galaxy.’
Caladan, who’d never heard of such a thing but guessed the misnomer of its name meant it was potent indeed, took the flask and sipped the liquid. It ran over his tongue and down his throat, leaving no taste or sensation whatsoever. ‘Still water,’ he said. ‘Nice.’
The man grinned. ‘Stillwater. Does it for you, doesn’t it?’
Caladan, still waiting for the punchline, smiled. ‘Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. I love me a bit of still water. Even better when it’s cold.’
‘We’re almost friends already,’ the man said. ‘Say, do you have a name?’
Wondering what would happen if he responded in the negative, he nodded again. ‘Caladan.’
‘That’s all?’
‘I had a family name, but I forgot it.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Got caught smuggling weapons out of Galanth and did a spell on Vantar.’
The man nodded. ‘The most notorious of prison moons.’
‘I forget exactly what happened, but it involved a certain amount of interrogation. I was younger then. My mind was more pliable, and I think they stretched it a bit too far.’
‘Is that so?’ the man repeated
‘And I guess if we’re exchanging pleasantries, you would also have a name?’
‘Jake O’Flagon,’ the man said, tipping an imaginary cap. ‘Middle name: “of the”.’
‘That’s nice,’ Caladan said. ‘And did you have a line of business before your life made an about turn for the worse?’
‘Journalism. I work out of Cask System.’
‘Cask?’ Caladan frowned. The word felt strange on his tongue. ‘Not often you meet a fellow from there. In fact, this could be my first time.’
Jake O’Flagon gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Since lines of communication with Trill have become restricted, the system government allowed some people to leave in order to find out what was going on. I was one of them. However, I got picked up by the Galactic Military Police in Quaxar’s deep-space. They accused me of smuggling, and they searched my ship’s computer. I got sent to Ergogate for detention then sentenced to fifteen Earth-years of labor for nondisclosure of intention. Apparently, it’s a crime to both be from Cask and be heading for Trill these days.’
‘System governments are jumpy about anything to do with Trill. They’re afraid the Bareleon Helix could head for their system next, but what they should be doing is uniting to blast the thing into dust.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Jake held up his flask. ‘You want another sip of Stillwater? I have plenty to share with an honest man.’
Caladan shook his head. ‘You keep it. A bit too strong for me, that stuff.’
‘That it is. Listen, I have a proposition for you.’
; ‘Does it involve getting laid, paid, or drunk?’
‘Potentially all three.’
Caladan grinned again. ‘See, even though I’m a nameless smuggler wanted in a thousand systems, and you’re a man out of a system more restricted than my butthole after electrical interrogation, we still have a common language.’
‘That we do, friend.’
‘How can I be of service?’ He leaned forward.
‘You come across as a man who knows the Estron Quadrant well. I have a reason to get into Trill System, and I’m guessing you have the means. Information out of there, especially if it is of value to the Cask System government, is worth its weight in pretty much any substance I desire.’
‘Nice. So, you want me to get you in?’
‘Exactly. As close to the Helix as possible then out if you can.’
‘Sure, no problem. Except for the minor one that we’re both stuck in the hold of a prison ship on the way to a life of slavery, currently floating somewhere in deep-space, a million miles from anywhere.’
Jake grinned. He pointed at the monitor. ‘We were. Not anymore.’
Something came into view, a cross-shaped space station lit on one side by the glow from Quaxar star. Elongated docking bays, which from a distance made the object appear spiny like an orbiting pin cushion, flashed with warning lights.
‘I’d guess that’s a fueling station,’ Jake said. ‘But it’s more than that, isn’t it? To us, it’s land. And land to a shipwrecked traveler means escape and safety, doesn’t it?’
Caladan, not sharing his new friend’s enthusiasm, nodded. ‘I guess so.’
3
Lia
Lia found Caladan looking up at a wide view-screen. Standing beside him was a tall man with a handsome, ageless face and spiked hair that appeared frozen into position. He wore a gray tunic and black boots. Despite the simple style of his clothing, he looked far more stylish than Caladan did in the tattered officer’s uniform he had stolen off a dead adversary some years before.
‘What’s going on?’ She came up beside Caladan, taking hold of his single arm. She noticed how his new friend glanced across, raising an eyebrow.
‘We’re docking with a fueling station,’ Caladan said. ‘Expect them to turn the lights off shortly and possibly spray us with some lethargy-inducing agent to prevent possible revolt. You know, just in case.’
But as the fueling station grew larger on the screen, nothing happened except the screen split in two. A new viewpoint appeared, one from the fueling station showing the prison ship’s approach.
‘There’s Crampus in action,’ Caladan said. ‘Wouldn’t win many beauty contests, would she?’
Lia opened her mouth to offer some witty reply, but Caladan’s companion spoke first: ‘I imagine in a certain light…’
As the two grinned amiably, Lia felt a flush of jealousy. ‘Well, hello,’ she said, turning to the newcomer. ‘I see you’ve met my pilot. Has he tricked you out of all your worldly goods yet?’
The man touched his head in a casual salute. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, fellow prisoner. I am known as Jake O’Flagon.’
‘Lianetta Jansen.’
‘Oh? I’ve heard that name. Or rather, seen your face on a list. Last time I was browsing in search of some fascinating crime to report, I think you’d broken the top one hundred.’
‘Top one hundred beauties in the known galaxy?’ Caladan grinned.
‘Most wanted,’ Jake said.
‘Ah, of course. You’re a journalist.’
‘You’re a what?’
‘Jake here hails from Cask System,’ Caladan said.
‘Cask? I thought Cask System was in self-isolation.’
‘It is. It’s been that way for the last two Earth-millennia, but in light of the war in Trill System, the government sanctioned a few people to leave to find out what’s going on.’
‘Jake wants passage into Trill System,’ Caladan said. ‘In return for a um, reward.’
‘Drink, money, or women?’
Jake laughed. ‘I can tell the pair of you spend a lot of time together.’
‘Too much time,’ Lia said. ‘You want passage into Trill on the ship we no longer have?’ She clicked her fingers. ‘Wait a moment. I’m sure it’ll appear shortly.’
Jake grinned. ‘What would you need me to do to get you back to your ship?’
‘More than you have the means for.’
‘Name it.’
‘We need to send out a distress signal. For that we’d need to get into the communications center.’
Jake nodded. ‘Follow me.’
Lia gave Caladan a skeptical look as they followed the journalist across the prisoner hold, past groups of bored prisoners reclining on pallets, watching monitor screens, playing cards. At one end of the partitioned chamber was a pair of automated steel doors through which they had entered. A second set lay on the other side as an extra line of security. Through a thick glass window to the door’s right was a guard room. Four large Tolgier guards sat around a tabletop screen. From the way they would each reach out in turn to adjust something on the touchscreen, Lia guessed they were playing a roleplaying game.
With none of the sparse entertainments nearby, Lia, Caladan and Jake were alone by the doors.
Jake turned to them. ‘Look at me.’
‘We’re looking,’ Caladan answered. ‘Are you going to do a magic trick?’
‘Close your eyes. Now, open them.’
Lia opened her eyes and blinked. A tall Tolgier guard stood in front of them, its human features concealed by excessive hair, overlarge muscles pressing against its Quaxar System prison guard uniform.
Beside her, Caladan gasped, reaching for a blaster that was no longer at his belt and squeezing his hand uselessly in the air. ‘A shapeshifter. I thought they were a myth. Everyone knows Cask’s full of crazy stuff, but I never believed it.’
The Tolgier guard blurred, then Jake stood before them once again. Lia squinted, something making her eyes water.
‘I’m not a shapeshifter,’ Jake said. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. It was a chemical secretion which screwed up your visual senses.’
Caladan shook his head. ‘Sorcery.’
Jake smiled. ‘I might look like a man, but I’m a subspecies, like you. Mine is Human-Livinion. The original Livinion were natives of Rayol in Cask System, but when humans came, they were enslaved. Their close visual similarity and genetic makeup meant there was a ton of interbreeding, most of it forced.’ He gave a resigned shrug. ‘The usual routine when one species enslaves another. The Livinion had pores in their skin which allowed them to secrete the impairment chemical as an airborne spray. It was their primary mode of defense, giving them the ability to temporarily confuse their attacker into seeing whatever they wanted them to see. The pure Livinions were extremely powerful, though there are few left. Those who are live in protected enclaves.’
Caladan puffed out his cheeks. ‘That’s a clever trick. If you can do that, why are you on this ship?’
‘Because the Oufolani are immune. The chemical must be inhaled for it to work, but their nasal passages contain a film which blocks it.’
‘Likely the only way they can stand their own stench,’ Caladan said.
‘So, how’s this going to help us if we’re stuck in here?’ Lia asked.
‘I have a plan,’ Jake said.
4
Karr-Urd
‘Look at that.’ Guard Karr-Urd pointed at the screen.
‘It’s nothing,’ said Guard Rone-Ar, not even looking up. ‘It’s your turn.’
‘But the prisoners are doing something strange,’ Guard Karr-Urd continued. ‘They’re trying to pull the view-screen out of the wall.’
Guard Rone-Ar growled and stood up. He gave the monitor an apathetic glance, then looked back, his eyes widening. Karr-Urd was right. The prisoners, in a bizarre act of cooperation, attempted to reach one of the view-screens set into the wall overhead. Some of the larger races wer
e lifting the smaller up into the air, and these were vainly stretching for the screen as though reaching for hands offering freedom.
‘Ray-Er, Fown-Id, get in there and see what’s going on. Go with them, Karr-Urd.’
The three guards made their way out of the guardroom and around to the gate. It consisted of a pair of steel doors twenty feet apart and could act as an airlock if pressure destabilized in one part of the ship. The whole prisoner hold could detach from the ship and be left floating in space if necessary. Karr-Urd knew where the control lay and had often lifted his hand over it in a gesture of power.
Guard Karr-Urd operated the door control while the others waited, each grumbling they had been close to winning the game. Guard Karr-Urd scowled at them. He knew the truth: he had been about to win. They were both fools; he’d been holding his best moves back for a coup later.
The doors hissed open. Guard Karr-Urd operated the second control and they waited again. He sighed as the door went through its series of hisses and clicks before opening out onto the prisoner hold. He remembered mailing off his draft papers for the Quaxar Space Navy with great excitement. Now, ten years on a prison ship later, he wished he’d stayed in his father’s mechanics yard.
‘Let’s get this sorted quickly,’ he said to the others. Both were far less experienced than Karr-Urd at dealing with the motley assortment of off-worlder detritus which passed for prisoners. ‘And remember your training. If any come at you, blast them. No second chances. These people are the scum of the known galaxy. Why they don’t chain the lot of them is beyond my understanding, but some stupid rights protocol means we have to put up with them acting like they’re on a tourist cruise.’
The two others nodded, although Ray-Er gave Karr-Urd a sideways glance as though disliking to be given orders by an officer of essentially the same rank.
‘Hey!’ Karr-Urd shouted, waving his blaster in the air while remote activating the two small shoulder cannons fitted into his body armor. The blaster was for show, but the cannons would unleash carnage if the prisoners turned on him. ‘Get down from there!’