Prisoner

by Bryant, S. J.

  Darkness lay thick over the prison by the time she got back to her ragged shelter. She swallowed. Deep shadows filled every corner and she imagined creatures hiding within them, watching her.

  She shook her head, opened the crate, and ducked inside. Pulling the lid down on herself, she looped the wires she'd collected from the transporter around an internal lock to tie it closed. By the time she finished the lid wouldn't open one inch even when she put her full weight into it.

  After the days she'd spent inside the crate pretending to be Grish she'd hoped never to have to hide in one again, yet here she was. She considered going back to the transporter to get her familiar crate back, at least it had minor shielding, and cushions, but discarded the idea. There'd be prisoners crawling all over the transporter, stripping whatever they could find. Her crate and cushions had probably already been taken.

  Thin air filtered through a thin keyhole, not enough to replace the stale heat that surrounded her head like a suffocating cloud. She pressed her face as close to the hole as she could and closed her eyes. Her back ached, shots of pain racking her spine like electric shocks. Her head pounded from dehydration and the stench of death clung to her, filling the stuffy air of the crate. She drifted into fitful sleep, body tense.

  ***

  Nova awoke to deep voices. She held her body absolutely still, ears straining to hear every word.

  "Woman outside says she went in here." Nova recognised Kirt's voice.

  "It's empty."

  "Look under the blankets."

  "She's not here boss."

  "Bitch. Sampson, go and kill that dumb cow who told us she was here."

  Something slammed against Nova's crate, bumping it sideways. Her neck whipped back and her head slammed against the solid wall. She bit her lip to stifle a cry as pain exploded through her skull.

  Someone strained against the lid but the wires held firm. They knocked the crate to one side. Nova fell hard on her elbow but kept her mouth pinned shut.

  "Could be something good in it."

  "There's nothing good on this planet," Kirt said. "She probably left it here to distract us. Clever bitch. I'll be glad to see her dead. I want each of you scouting the area. Wherever she is, I want her found."

  "You bet."

  Heavy footsteps faded away. Nova waited until the voices had gone but even then her muscles clenched and every rustle made her heart jump. Many hours later she drifted into fitful sleep, waking with every new noise.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Three months until guard change.

  Nova awoke the next morning with a sore neck and an aching head. She untied the wires with stiff fingers and stepped out of her crate, cursing prisoners and the Confederacy alike. Every loose item in her tent had been tossed and thrown across the floor. She'd expected as much.

  Still, she'd survived the night a lot better than the woman in the adjacent tent. Her body lay half in and half out of her shelter, covered in blood. Soon the human vultures would arrive to take her away.

  Nova stretched and her spine cracked. She took the time to check her knife and test each of her limbs. Everything seemed intact. She tucked the wires back into a hidden pocket in her jacket and shut her crate, hoping it would still be there when she needed it.

  She strode through the prison, every fibre tensed and ready. People stared at her as she walked past, but no one dared attack her. Sand flicked her skin, kicked up by hurried feet. Each grain stung like a small insect biting her flesh. She sighed and pulled her jacket tighter.

  Halfway back to the main compound she passed a labourbot with rusted wheels traveling in the opposite direction. The top of its rectangular body came up to her waist and made an odd square of technology amongst the squalid tents. It trundled across the sand and disappeared amongst the forest of tents.

  Nova smiled and strode to the Inners.

  Kirt stood guard at the entrance to the inner compound, stubble shadowing his chin. He scowled at her as she approached. "I see you managed to survive the night."

  "No thanks to you, I'm sure," she said, pushing past him. It was a bold move but here in Ankar it was either sink or swim. She had to be tough or she'd be eaten up.

  "Glad to see you're still with us!" Amon said, glancing up from his bowl of gruel.

  Nova sauntered over. "I can take care of myself."

  "Clearly. Surviving the night in Ankar means you at least deserve breakfast." Amon gestured to the food generators.

  Nova nodded and went over. As she waited for her breakfast she looked out past the inner compound to the outer tents and shacks. Lonely, hungry eyes stared back at her. It was a maximum penalty prison so the chances were pretty good that these people had done some bad things. But how many of them were like her? Only stuck on Ankar because they were willing to fight for their beliefs against the Confederacy?

  Nova's stomach churned and her fingers clenched. She took a faltering step towards the food generator, intending to take some gruel to the outer slums. Her finger hovered above the button.

  She couldn't.

  With a sigh she let her hand fall to her side and turned away. She couldn't sacrifice the influence she'd gained just to give a few criminals a bare meal. Shuffling to a cement table she sat down and gazed out of the courtyard to the sea of tents.

  Her stomach churned and she bit her lip as she watched them scrounge the dirt ground for scraps of food. At least she had a chance of getting out. These people would never leave. Not until they died anyway. She couldn't imagine facing a life of this. How did they drag themselves out of their tents every morning?

  Her eyes slid over the shadows of the nearest cell block and something moved. She squinted, peering into the darkness.

  Two men stood staring back at her. The taller one looked like he belonged in an expensive bar, not the roughest prison in the quadrant. His clean face and clothes stood out against the dirt and grime that covered everything else.

  The smaller man beside him had long greasy hair that hung in a tangled mess. He blended into the surroundings where his companion stood out. Dirt covered his face and hands and his eyes bulged, flicking in all directions. He twitched every few seconds and jumped from foot to foot, struggling to stay still.

  The unlikely pair watched Nova for a full minute before they walked away, rounded a corner and disappeared. She frowned. They didn't seem dangerous but it didn't feel like they belonged on Ankar either.

  She shrugged it off as another mystery of the prison.

  Her eyes flicked to Carter's building where again the entrance was surrounded by dangerous looking men and women, muscles bulging. She bit her lip and let her gaze fall to the table; how could she possibly get close to him?

  A boot scraping on dirt behind Nova made her shoulders tense and she clutched her knife under the table.

  "I don't know what you're playing at," Kirt said.

  She glanced up, taking in his sneer and the knife in his white-knuckled hand.

  "Nothing," she replied, turning her attention back to the bowl of gruel.

  "I'll gut you," Kirt said. "I'll enjoy it too. I can't wait to tear your intestines up through your mouth."

  Nova raised her head and rolled her eyes. "Do you bother everyone this much or is it just me?"

  Kirt flexed his fingers around the knife. "You don't recognize me do you?"

  Nova frowned. "Should I?"

  A muscle in Kirt's jaw twitched. "Hasard. Two years ago."

  Nova's mind raced. She'd only been to Hasard a couple of times; the only thing worse than the desert was the spitting camels. "Two years…… there was a drug cartel."

  Kirt sneered.

  Nova studied his face, imagining it without the layers of dirt and with fewer wrinkles. Her mouth dropped. "The transporter."

  "Now you recognize me," Kirt said, hand tightening on his blade.

  "You were the one stuffing the camels…"

  "Had a pretty good thing going too, until you came along."

  Nova swal
lowed, her heart clenching. Kirt's overt aggression was starting to make more sense.

  "Take a good look around," Kirt said, waving around the prison. "You might recognise more faces than you thought."

  Nova clenched her jaw and refused to let her eyes fall from Kirt's face. "I would have thought you'd be happy. Did you really want to spend the rest of your life shoving drugs up camel arses?"

  Kirt's face darkened. "You bitch. I'll make you pay for what you took from me. Don't think you're safe just because Amon happens to have taken a shine to you. That won't help you for long."

  Nova snorted and turned back to her gruel. "With a mouth that big you must be pretty popular in here."

  A choking noise came from Kirt's throat. "You little bitch."

  Nova shrugged.

  Kirt stomped away, glaring at her over his shoulder. "I'll get you. Just see if I don't."

  Nova watched him go, knuckles white where her hands clenched into fists.

  "Don't mind him." A tall man came over and leaned against Nova's table.

  She looked up at him, then glanced at Kirt's retreating back but didn't reply.

  "I'm Wood," he said.

  "Nova," she replied.

  "The Hunter that everyone's talking about."

  Nova shrugged. "Just surviving."

  "Aren't we all?"

  Nova shrugged again.

  Wood sat down opposite her and held out a crude cigar. "It's not much but it's the best you'll find here."

  "I don't smoke."

  "Not much else to do in this rat-hole."

  Nova stared hard at him. What did he want? He didn't seem threatening. He had a knife in his belt but it was a long way from his hands. His smile seemed genuine enough. Maybe he was just looking for someone to talk to.

  "What are you in for?" she said.

  It was the equivalent of 'how are you?' in Ankar.

  "Big misunderstanding," Wood said. "I'm innocent actually."

  "Hmm," Nova said. "I've heard everyone in here is."

  "Ha!" Wood said, grinning. He cupped his hands around the cigar and lit it with a silver lighter. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "I like you. But no, I think there are probably a few guilty ones in here. Like your friend Kirt."

  "Hmm, I know that. Apparently I'm the one that got him put in here," Nova said.

  Wood raised an eyebrow. "That explains why he's been so friendly. I'm surprised you've survived this long."

  Nova shrugged. "So what didn't you do?"

  "Stole a ship worth a million credits," Wood said. He took another deep breath through his cigar.

  "Wow," Nova said. "That's some ship."

  "Complete accident," Wood said. "I thought it was the earlier model. They're only worth a few hundred thousand. Would have landed me a few years hard labour. Instead, I had to pick the most expensive ship on the market. The judge said it was a crime so big that only a life sentence would teach me a lesson."

  Wood shook his head and chuckled. He flicked stray ash from the end of his cigar.

  "Some misunderstanding," Nova said.

  "Yeah. Tell me about it. So what'd you do?"

  "I'm innocent," Nova said out of reflex.

  "Yeah," Wood said. "But really?"

  Nova shrugged. It wasn't like she could get into any more trouble. "Terrorism. Blew up the Confederacy Headquarters near Cupron."

  Wood's eyes widened. "That was you?!"

  Nova nodded slowly.

  "You're joking! That was all anyone talked about for a month! I'm surprised they let you come here, usually they would have shot you on sight!"

  Nova shrugged. "Lucky me."

  "I'd say!" Wood laughed. He took another drag and blew away the smoke. It curled across the courtyard.

  A stray whiff of it sailed up Nova's nostrils. Unlike the cigars she was used to it smelled of burning grass rather than tobacco.

  "Wow. Well, it's an honour to meet you," Wood said. He held out his hand.

  Nova couldn't help smiling as she shook it.

  "Why do you keep staring at the boss-man's place?" Wood asked.

  "What?" The smile snapped away from Nova's face. Had she been that obvious?

  "Carter," Wood said, nodding towards the guarded building. "You've been staring at that door since you sat down."

  "Oh," Nova said. "It's nothing. I've just heard of him, you know?"

  "If you say so," said Wood. "But you know he won't be able to get you out of here? Even Carter doesn't have that kind of power."

  "It's not like that," Nova said. "I just want to talk to him."

  Wood snorted. "That's just as unlikely."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, he doesn't talk to anyone unless they're in his inner circle. Hell, you'll be lucky to even see him. He keeps to himself, otherwise he'd be killed. Do you know how many of these guys are in here because of him?"

  Nova did know. She'd done her research. But she wasn't about to tell this stranger everything she knew about the prison and her plan for escape.

  "So, how do I get into the circle?" Nova asked.

  "Be reborn as his daughter?" Wood suggested.

  Nova rolled her eyes.

  "He doesn't talk to anyone. No one gets into his inner circle unless they've given him a kidney or something. He wouldn't even let you in if you offered him certain… trade. I don't know what the selection criteria is but he's had the same goons since I arrived four years ago. And that's an impressive survival rate seeing as most prisoners don't last longer than six months."

  "You did," Nova said.

  "Yeah," Wood chuckled. "I suppose I did."

  Nova barely heard him, her mind racing. This was one part that she couldn't plan for. Getting into the inner circle of a mob-boss was something you couldn't learn. She had to find a way to make him trust her. Her last resort would be to stage an assassination attempt but if she got caught she'd be dead in seconds. It wasn't a plan she wanted to put to the test.

  "Want to play some cards?" Wood asked.

  She didn't really want to play cards but she needed something to occupy her attention and it could be useful having a friend on the inside.

  "Only if you put out that cigar," she said, swatting smoke away from her face.

  "Ah," Wood said, rolling his eyes. "One of those."

  He pulled the cigar from his mouth and tapped it out on the table. When the last embers faded away he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and dealt two neat piles. Nova picked up her hand, her mind still racing.

  "He doesn't spend much time out here," Wood said, looking over his cards.

  "What?"

  "Carter. Usually he stays inside his building with his goons. I've even heard rumours that they've got their own food generators. I've heard it's far more… comfortable."

  Nova nodded and went back to her cards. If Carter didn't usually spend time in the yard then she had even less of a chance than she'd hoped of getting his attention. She sighed and played an Ace. It was never going to be easy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Three months until guard change.

  Nova sat with a hand on her knife and her head on the table. Another night spent curled up inside a crate had left her feeling more tired than she'd ever been before. Her head throbbed and her neck felt like a rod of agony. Even a sticky bowl of gruel hadn't helped.

  She gritted her teeth as her eyes drifted closed. She needed to find a way to get in with Carter or she'd die from exhaustion just trying to stay away from Kirt.

  "Hunter," Amon called across the yard.

  Nova lifted her head, blinking in the sunlight.

  Amon jerked his head, expression grim. Seven people covered in scars gathered close to him, glaring around at the rest of the prison. Kirt stood by Amon's shoulder, hand resting on a knife at his belt.

  Nova pushed herself off the table and strode towards them, rubbing her eyes. Her brain buzzed, filling her thoughts with static. She reached Amon's table and stood looking
down at him, doing her best to hide her annoyance at being summoned.

  "You may have noticed that there are quite a few unnaturals here," Amon said, nodding towards a group of prisoners.

  Mods sprouted over their bodies, from glowing skin to slanted, feline eyes.

  "Modded," Nova corrected.

  "Unnatural," Amon said in a stern voice. "It's going down tonight. If you want to keep enjoying privileges, you have to work for it."

  Nova shook her head. "I don't do shake downs."

  "This isn't a shake down," Kirt said, stepping forward so their faces almost touched and his rank breath brushed over her face. "This is war."

  Nova stared back at him with her chin pushed forward.

  "Unfortunately, Kirt's right. Boss says they've gotten too confident. It's time to take them down a peg," Amon said.

  "Carter?" Nova said.

  Amon raised an eyebrow and nodded.

  "What's the point?" Nova said.

  A heavy weight settled in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in the middle of a prison battle. Too much bad history seethed between the mods and non-mods. The walls would be spattered with blood by the end and it would be just her luck to die in a prison brawl.

  "Where's your natural pride?" Kirt said. Spit sprayed from his mouth and showered Nova's cheek. "Unless you're a mod. That blue streak in your hair doesn't look natural."

  "Back off Kirt. You know hair colour isn't a real mod."

  Kirt's upper lip twisted but he took a step back.

  "So, Hunter. Are you in or out?" Amon said. The humour disappeared from his voice and his eyes darkened.

  She kept her face neutral but inside, her stomach rolled. She didn't really have an option; if she backed out now she'd never be allowed back in the inner compound. She had to take her chances.

  "Sure," she said. "I'm in."

  "Good!" Amon said, smiling. "Make sure you don't wonder too far from here then. It'll be nightfall before you know it."

  ***