by R. M. Olson
“I hate being locked up,” she sniffled. “I can’t do it. You want to know why I keep getting into fights? It’s because that’s better than this. At least then I’m doing something. And you, and Tae, and even plaguing Masha are out asking questions and making plans and I’m just—I’m—” she lifted her hand and waved vaguely around the cell. “I’m locked up here because I can’t stop getting into trouble. I’m no good at this. Masha was right. You should have left me behind. I should never have come. Do you know how many times in the last few days I almost tried to run for it?”
“Jez!” He drew back, looking her in the eyes. “You can’t. You’d be shot!”
She sniffed. “I know. But maybe I wouldn’t. I could try.”
“No, Jez! You can’t! Just trust me, OK? I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll get you out.”
“Maybe it would be better anyways,” she said in a low voice.
He took her by the shoulders again. “No. Jez, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she did.
“Jez. We need you here. I need you.” He paused. “I mean, for this plan to work.”
He cursed himself under his breath.
Hopefully she was distraught enough she wouldn’t notice.
She was still watching him, her face blotchy and tear-streaked, but she looked a little less hopeless than she had a few moments ago.
“Really?” she asked at last.
“Really, Jez,” he said firmly.
She gave a tremulous nod.
“OK then,” he said.
She sniffled again and wiped her face on her soggy sleeve.
It was ridiculous that he still couldn’t seem to look away from her.
He shook his head at himself and made to move. She grabbed his arm.
“No. Can you stay here? For a little bit, I mean?”
He hesitated, then he sighed and nodded. “Sure, Jez. I can stay for a bit.”
It would be a good couple hours before the whistle blew for the next count, and he should be safe until then. He turned and leaned his back against the wall. She leaned against the wall beside him, still sniffling, but as her eyes drifted shut, she dipped sideways until her head rested on his shoulder. He stiffened, then he gave a rueful smile and forced himself to relax. He was certainly no innocent, but somehow this lanky, ridiculous pilot seemed to be able to turn him into an awkward fourteen-year-old.
She mumbled something in her sleep and nuzzled her head into his shoulder, and he put his arm carefully around her shoulders to make a more comfortable place for her head to rest. His heart was beating a little more quickly than usual. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the rough cell wall.
He was just comforting a friend. That was all.
He glanced down at her, her mouth half-open, snoring slightly, hair disheveled and falling over her bruised face, and shook his head.
To be fair, he wasn’t usually willing to risk getting caught and shot by guards to comfort a friend.
He wasn’t going to be lifting her into her cot, not without getting both of them hurt, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. Instead, he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the floor. As gently as he could, he maneuvered her limp body into position so the jacket formed a rough pillow.
Honestly, the floor couldn’t be that much less comfortable than the rock-hard cots.
He stood and pulled the blanket from the cot, spreading it over her, and glanced around the cell.
She’d pulled off her own jacket and flung it into the corner. He reached over and picked it up.
Best to take it with him. They were probably about the same size, and the guards might notice if she ended up with more jackets in her cell than she’d brought in.
He picked it up, slung it over his shoulder, and on second thought, grabbed the bottle to be disposed of before he got back to his cell. If the guards found that, it probably wouldn’t end well for Jez, and if Jez found it again, it might actually give Masha an aneurism. Then he took one last look at Jez, lying sprawled on the floor.
Millions of people in the plaguing system …
He shook his head, smiling ruefully to himself, then slipped outside.
It wasn’t until he was back in his own cell that he noticed the scrap of a note that had been shoved into an outer pocket in Jez’s uniform. He frowned, and pulled it out.
The writing was messy, and whoever it was had been pressing hard on the writings stick.
Solokov. I’m watching you. You turn around, I’ll be there. And I will make you sorry. Whenever you’re least expecting it, I’ll make you sorry.
He frowned.
The guard? It had to be. But how did he know her last name? Masha had wiped their names from every database in the system.
It shouldn’t be possible for someone to track her down. And even if it was—why?
He was still frowning as he climbed into his cot.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TAE, SECTOR 1, Day 6
“Tae.”
He glanced up quickly. Masha was watching him from the top bunk, her face unreadable. He glanced down at his com and nodded.
Time, then.
“Are you coming?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She paused. “How likely is it that we can get out tomorrow?”
He paused.
It was tomorrow, or never.
But he’d spent every second that he could fighting with the system, and there was a block he couldn’t seem to get past.
He shook his head, trying not to let his face show his hopelessness. “I’ll do the best I can.”
She nodded, still watching him with that disconcerting gaze, and he turned away.
His breath was coming too fast, his chest painfully tight.
It was his job to get them out. Every last one of them was counting on him.
And he wasn’t certain he could do it.
He unlocked the door, and Masha followed close on his heels as he stepped outside. He glanced up and down the hallway, then started off at a swift walk for Tanya’s cell.
This, at least, he could do. That was the first thing. Get Tanya and the kids to Ysbel, and then, when he figured out a way into the system—
If he figured out a way into the system.
He thought he might throw up.
When they reached the cell, Tanya was waiting at the bars.
“Who is this?” she asked without preamble, gesturing at Masha.
Masha gave a bland smile. “I’m Masha. I’m a friend of Tae’s, and of your wife.”
Tanya gave the unassuming woman standing behind Tae a long look. Tae swallowed hard.
They couldn’t mess this up, not now. Please.
Then Tanya raised her chin slightly, and a look of something like grudging respect passed between the two women.
“That is alright,” said Tanya at last. “I will come with you.”
He pressed his makeshift key up against the lock, and the door clicked and swung gently open.
Tanya hesitated a moment. Then she stepped out, and behind her, two children.
He’d never actually gotten a good look at Tanya before now.
She was slender, but with the wiry muscles of someone accustomed to heavy labour. Her face was lined and worn, and she looked at least as old as Ysbel. The years in prison had clearly taken their toll, but she was still a beautiful woman. Her brown hair was cropped short, but her eyes were large and wistful, and her mouth showed just a hint of humour, long buried.
She didn’t look terrifying, not until you looked into those wistful eyes.
There was a steel behind them, unyielding and cold as ice.
This was not a woman he’d want to mess with.
The two children stood silently behind their mother. They were as quiet as shadows, standing almost unnaturally still, only their huge eyes showing any emotion at all. The girl was sheltering the boy, who still had traces of baby fat, and for a moment something caught in Tae’s throat.
&nbs
p; They looked like the street kids he’d been protecting back in Prasvishoni. With their ragged clothes and their solemn faces, that had seen far too much far too young, they would have fit right in.
Had Caz been able to take his place? Were he and Peti keeping them safe?
He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat, and crouched down on the hallway floor so he was at their eye level.
“Hi,” he whispered.
They didn’t answer—he didn’t really expect them to. He gave them a small smile, then stood to see Tanya watching him, eyes narrowed.
“Follow me,” he said briskly, and turned away quickly so they wouldn’t see the tears he was blinking back.
They walked silently down the corridors and up the staircase until they reached the library. He paused and tapped his com.
“Lev?” he whispered.
“We’re here,” Lev whispered back. “Coast is clear. No guards for another fifteen minutes or so. Should be enough.”
He nodded, even though Lev couldn’t see. Then, carefully, he opened the door. He stepped through to show Tanya it wasn’t a trap. Then he stood to one side so she and the children could come through.
She walked like a wary animal, every sense on the alert. The two children followed at just the distance to give her room to move, but close enough that she could grab them if she needed to.
He found himself wondering how they’d learned that so well.
“There, at the back,” he whispered. “At the window the guards use to watch the prisoners.”
Cautiously, she stepped past him and walked over to the window.
Then she stopped short, and even from where he was he could see her face go white.
“Ysbel?” she mouthed.
He stepped closer.
Through the window he saw Ysbel. She was staring at Tanya, her eyes locked on the woman’s face, her own face whiter than Tae had ever seen it. She walked forward, like a person in a dream, and put her hand against the glass. He could see her lips moving, but they couldn’t hear the sound.
He shook his head and stepped quickly forward. “Tanya,” he whispered, and tapped his com.
She didn’t seem even to notice him.
Ysbel saw what he was doing and tapped her own com. “Tanya,” she whispered, and Tanya started, seeming to notice Tae for the first time. He held his wrist-com forward.
“Go ahead. Talk. It’ll pick it up.”
“Ysbel,” she whispered, her voice stunned.
“I’m so sorry, Tanya. I’m so sorry.” And Tae stared as Ysbel—the woman who had killed thirty-five people without batting an eye, the woman who he’d never seen show more emotion than a twitch of her lip or a raise of an eyebrow—leaned her head against the window and broke down into silent, gasping sobs.
“Ysbel, no. Please.” Tanya took two quick steps forward, placing her own hand against the glass in a futile effort to reach Ysbel. “Please. I—don’t cry. Please. I’ve been thinking of you and dreaming of you for five years now. I thought you were dead. I was certain you were dead. I couldn’t think of anything else but you. Please don’t cry—” and he could tell from her voice that she was crying too.
The children stood back, uncertain. He stepped back to give the two women their privacy, and after a pause, he knelt beside the children.
They turned to look at him with their grave faces.
“My name is Tae,” he said, feeling slightly awkward. “What are your names?”
“I’m Misko,” said the boy after a moment. The older girl glared at him, then turned her glare on Tae.
“It’s not really your business, is it?”
He bit back a smile. “Perhaps not. I’m sorry.”
She gave him an icy look, and turned her head away, clearly determined to ignore him.
He gestured with his chin towards the window. Tanya had stepped back, and was wiping her eyes. Ysbel was blinking back her own tears, her face still sickly white.
“Children?” Tanya whispered.
“Go on,” he said, gesturing to the window. “Your mother wants to introduce you to someone.”
Hesitantly, Olya stepped forward. Then she reached back and clutched Misko by the hand, shooting one last glare in Tae’s direction, and pulled them both forward.
Masha had stepped forward as well, holding out her com so the women could talk.
“Olya. Misko.” Tanya’s voice wavered. “You see this? This is your mama. She’s come back. Do you remember her? Or were you too little?”
Olya was staring at Ysbel, frowning. She’d gone a little pale as well.
“Are you sure, Mamochka?” she whispered, turning back to Tanya. Tanya nodded encouragingly, and Olya stepped forward, still frowning. She inspected Ysbel, who stood with silent tears running down her face.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Ysbel said, her voice cracking. “I remember you. And I remember your little brother. He was so fat when he was a baby.” She stopped speaking, shaking her head, unable to continue.
“I do remember you,” Olya proclaimed at last, stepping back. “Mamochka, I remember Mama. She’s nice. Can we go see her?”
“I’m sorry, Olya. We can’t tonight. But maybe soon, OK?”
Olya frowned, but finally nodded.
“Listen, would you please take your brother and go over to look at a book?” She shot a look at Masha, and the woman nodded in understanding.
“Come, Olya, Misko,” Masha said briskly. “I have something to show you.” She caught Tanya’s eye and tapped her com off as she led the children away, Olya and Misko seeming to have fallen under the spell of her charisma as easily as anyone else.
When they were gone, Tanya beckoned Tae over. “Do you have your com on?” she asked quietly. Tae nodded.
“Then the rest of you can hear me as well,” she said. Her voice was still thick with tears, but there was something in it that made him look at her more closely.
“I did not believe you when you said you were here to break me and the children out. I didn’t believe that you knew Ysbel. I thought at best it was a joke, and at worst a trap. But now—” she paused, trying to collect herself. “You’ve done more than I ever could have hoped for. You’ve showed me my wife is still alive. And for that I will always be grateful. But—” she took a deep breath. “But your plan will not work. We cannot come with you. Get out as soon as you can, and don’t look back. Take Ysbel with you, whether she wants it or not.”
“Tanya,” said Lev, “I appreciate your concern. But if we can get the rest of us out, we can bring you with us. That was the whole reason for this.”
“You don’t understand,” she said quietly. She pushed back her hair to reveal a small white scar on her temple. “You see this? It’s a chip they implant in us when we arrive here. I have it. The children have it. Every prisoner here has it, except perhaps for the five of you. And this chip, if I step outside the walls, will send a pulse though my brain that will kill me instantly.”
Tae stared at her, and he saw his own horror reflected in Lev’s face, and Ysbel’s. Jez just looked sick.
“I—” he began. “Maybe I can hack it. Maybe I can shut it off before the supply ship comes.”
“That’s the other thing,” Tanya said quietly. “I have contacts here, and they’ve told me. The supply ship is coming early. They had an emergency run, and it will be here this morning. It’s scheduled to arrive in half an hour, I think. There is no time.”
He felt sick. He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach, and he still couldn’t catch his breath.
“Tae,” said Lev, his voice a desperate pleading.
“I—don’t know,” he said at last, his voice unsteady. “Tanya. May I?”
She nodded without speaking, and he stepped forward and inspected the small scar.
It would be a microchip, that would be the only way they could implant. Beside the scar, no external bump—of course not. They couldn’t risk the prisoners cutting the chip out. They’d have used a bone-drill and
implanted it through the skull, directly onto the surface of the brain.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last, his voice sounding strange in his own ears. “I can’t. I don’t dare try, because if I do one thing wrong, I’ll kill her. And even if I did everything right, disabling it without the proper tech—I might kill her anyways. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Tae,” said Lev quietly. “No one expects you to do miracles.”
But they had. He had.
“I’m sorry,” Tae said again. He felt strange, like he was watching himself from far away. “I couldn’t do it in time. Even if I’d managed to find a way, half an hour is too short for me to work the patch in and create a lock-pick for the outside doors.” He paused. “Do you know how to get back to your cell?” he asked Tanya quietly.
She nodded.
“When you close the door, it will lock behind you. Masha will warn you before the guards come.”
“Tae—”
He tapped his com off and walked quietly out the door of the library, and back down the deserted corridor.
He still felt strangely lightheaded, his legs moving almost without his conscious thought.
He’d failed. He’d failed Ysbel, and Tanya, and those two children who reminded him of everyone else he’d failed back on Prasvishoni.
They’d been counting on him. They’d all been counting on him, because there was no one else who could do what they needed him to do. And in the end, he couldn’t do it either.
They were going to die. Worse than that. They were going to be sedated, and it was going to be his fault.
When he reached his cell, he glanced around, lost. It was small, and he almost felt like he didn’t recognize it, and he wasn’t sure where to sit, or where to stand.
At last he sank down onto the cot, his legs finally refusing to hold him up anymore. He dropped his face into his hands, because he didn’t have the energy to hold his head up, either.
It was a while before something small and irritating made him look up. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but Masha wasn’t back yet, so it couldn’t have been longer than an hour.
His com. It was clicking.