Breakout: (Space Outlaw 1)

by Dominique Mondesir

  "This is your stop. Wait in here. Someone will be along to collect you shortly."

  "Who?"

  "Oh, we wouldn't want to spoil that surprise." The guard smiled.

  The door in front of Phoenix slid open, and he was pushed through before he could ask any further questions.

  The smell. That was the first thing that hit him as he brought his hands to his nose. The odour of sweat was overpowering. Casting his gaze around the room, he saw no less than thirty different species shoved in a room only slightly bigger than an Earth holding cell. Races ranged from four feet tall to eight, their skin in shades of green, black, red, or blue. All housed in this room. Waiting for someone to come and collect them.

  All eyes turned on him. Silence swept through the room like galloping horses on a midnight run. Phoenix stared back, standing his ground. He knew how this game was played. They might be from different worlds, star systems, and galaxies, but the rules of the jungle seemed to apply wherever you went.

  When a few saw that he wasn't going to give ground, they simply turned their heads and began chatting amongst themselves. As the noise level increased, the stares left his face.

  Phoenix found an unoccupied spot next to a wall and rested his back against it. As the minutes and hours dragged on, he noticed one stare that hadn't left his face. After Phoenix gave it a slight nod, the alien in question got up from where he sat and walked over to him.

  He was a good seven feet in height and built like a tank. Green skin was covered by fine, orange hair. His two lower canine teeth poked slightly out of his mouth. Long hair matching the orange on the rest of the body flowed onto his shoulders, braided into two plaits.

  "Name?" he grunted

  "Phoenix. Yours?"

  "Plowstow. First time locked up?"

  "First time."

  "Not mine. Been locked up a lot. Not any as big as this, though. The others, you had a chance to get out. Not here, though. Not here. Dredar is the end of the line. Once in, no way out."

  "So I've heard," said Phoenix.

  "Me, I've been locked up for all kinds of things. Some small, some big. But always been able to sweet talk my way out of going to Dredar. Guess my luck run out. My deliverer always said I would push my luck too far. Thought she was crazy. But here we are. I should have listened to her. But no, I had to pull off one more score. I'll probably die here. Good a place as any, I guess."

  "Deliverer?"

  "You know. Person who brought you into this world."

  "Oh. You mean mother," said Phoenix.

  "I guess. Anyway, I never thought I would see a place like this. You do a few petty crimes, and you have the whole law enforcement on you. I never."

  "What did you do?"

  Plowstow give him a sideways look. Turning his head, he stared into the distance, tongue clicking against his bottom teeth. "Seeing as you're new and you've never been inside before, a word of advice: never ask anyone--and I mean anyone--why they're here. It will get ya a smack in the mouth. Or worse."

  "I apologise. Understood."

  "No harm meant by it. Just telling you how things work round here. What are you anyway? Never seen your kind before."

  "Human. Truth be told, my species don't even know that aliens--sorry, I mean other races--exist."

  "What?" Plowstow asked, roaring in laughter. "Next you'll be telling me you ain't mastered space travel."

  Phoenix gave him a simple shake of the head.

  "What!" Laughing even louder, Plowstow held his sides. "What kind of backwater planet are you from anyway? Damn, not even mastered space travel."

  "A little planet called Earth."

  "Well, this brings up all sorts of interesting questions. I may in fact have to break prison rules and ask you myself. How did you get yourself here?"

  "You answer my question first, and I'll answer yours," said Phoenix.

  "Fine! Me and my partner," said Plowstow spitting out the word, "hit fifteen council deports in one day."

  "Council deports?"

  "Err, they're a place credits are kept."

  "Oh, you mean a bank," said Phoenix.

  "I guess. Anyway, we hit them all in one day, nice and easy-like. We would have gotten away with it too. Had some pursuers on our backs, nothing we ain't dealt with before. Routine stuff. Anyway, just as the ship is about to take off, my friend, my partner in crime, stuns me and throws me overboard. Yelling about something to do with his wife. Who I had only met a handful of times, mind you. Double-crossing coward."

  "I thought you said it was just petty crime?"

  "It was," said Plowstow with a hurt look.

  "His wife?" asked Phoenix.

  "Oh, that. Me and her did have a little something going on behind his back. But doubt he ever found out. Plus, like I said, I only met her a handful of times."

  "But don't you see..." trailed off Phoenix.

  "Anyway, your turn."

  "I'm here because I attacked a fat piece of shit called Holger Portendorfer." As the final words left his mouth, the room once again went silent. All eyes were on him, every ear tuned in his discussion.

  With a long, drawn-out screech of metal against metal, the door to the room opened.

  Stepping into the room was the ugliest creature Phoenix had ever seen.

  "Your lives now belong to Shanks," it snarled.

  13

  Shanks stepped through the door, eyes surveying the room. He was shorter than Plowstow, but the two could have been long lost cousins. With green skin and black hair, Shanks was built like a tree stump. A wicked scar ran across his face, narrowly missing an eye and splitting the corner of his top lip in half. Walking further into the room, he stopped in the middle. Hands on hips, he didn't say anything for what felt like forever, then:.

  "Shanks never seen such a bunch of worthless, spineless, mother-loving, scum in all his life. You are now property of Shanks. Which makes you property of the Warden! I own you, so he owns you! You do as I say, you do as he say. But Warden will never speak to the likes of you."

  "What's wrong with being a mother-lover?" muttered Phoenix.

  Shanks's head snapped around to Phoenix. He marched towards Phoenix and didn't stop until they were nose-to-nose. Phoenix tried to hold his breath--the stench out of Shanks's mouth could have stripped paint. It threatened to empty Phoenix's stomach of everything it had.

  "You. Say. Something?" asked Shanks.

  "No. He ain't said anything. Must be one of them others," said Plowstow.

  "Orcian," said Shanks with disgust turning away.

  "I must be in the worst low-budget movie ever. What is going on?" muttered Phoenix.

  Shanks spun on his heel and delivered a punch to Phoenix's stomach, forcing him to double over in pain. Winded, he looked like a fish out of water. Resting on one knee, Phoenix felt a smile slowly pull across his face. Getting up from where he knelt, he stared Shanks's way.

  "What you smile about?" asked Shanks.

  "Just thinking about when I'll get you back."

  Shanks delivered another punch to Phoenix's gut, dropping him back down. He wanted to pop back up and show the ugly bastard that it was nothing. But his body simply wouldn't allow him to. It was as if he turned the keys to the car, but the engine simply wouldn't start. Feeling a pair of hands pull him up, he gave Plowstow a nod of thanks.

  "What's the deal with him?" asked Phoenix.

  "Oh. His race is like my race's slower, smaller, meaner, younger brother. They don't like Orcians much. Well, they don't like any race much. It's probably best if you avoided him. If you want to live, that is."

  "Right. Move out!" said Shanks.

  As more guards filled into the already-cramped room, they pushed the prisoners through the door and led them down towards another. Lined up next to each other one by one, they all faced a set of doors that would be at home on any castle back on Earth. It towered over them--jet-black doors that appeared as if they could withstand any siege or blast. In the centre of the doors, a spi
ral went round and round till it formed a glowing, red orb.

  Shanks moved up and down the line, making sure everyone was in position. Anyone that wasn't, their screams of pain were heard as they were moved into their proper place. Standing in front of them, Shanks spoke quietly into his wrist.

  As the minutes trickled slowly by and one or two people started to get restless, Phoenix wondered what they were waiting for. Was Shanks just showing how much control he had over them? Or was there another reason for the delay? Since being here, Phoenix had been stripped, water-tortured, blow-dried, and vacuumed. But prison bars had yet to make an appearance. He was pretty sure that prison was the same everywhere in the universe. So far, he had not seen anything to prove him wrong.

  The red orb turned to green and the doors behind Shanks began to open. Walking towards the group was a small, fragile-looking alien, flanked by two of the biggest brutes he had seen. The alien took each step cautiously, as if testing the water before placing a foot in. Long, elfin ears with a forest of white hair could be seen a mile away. A wrinkled, leathery hide for skin adorned his face. The walking stick clenched loosely spoke of a need for show rather than one of necessity. A silver suit was elegantly draped over his skeletal frame.

  "This old thing is the Warden everyone is scared of? Last time I listen to rumours," whispered Plowstow with an eye-roll.

  "His face looks like my balls." Phoenix sneered.

  "I feel sorry for your balls. You should get that checked."

  "It's--"

  "Silence!" said Shanks.

  The Warden came to a stop next to Shanks. He stood still, looking over each and every prisoner. Turning his head this way and that, he took them all in. He started from the bottom and worked his way up, like a tradesman assessing the goods he had just paid for. He lifted his walking stick up, then began to slowly tap it on the floor.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Phoenix looked into a pair of eyes that showed no hint of regard for life. The prisoners were in the Warden's domain now, and the leathery old alien knew it.

  "Your past lives are no more. Yes? Your future is no more. Yes? Why you are here matters not. Guilty. Innocent. Not fault. None of these things matter. None of these things mean anything here. No, you are here because you are here. The reasons of how came to be, I do not care.

  "But I do care about what you do in present. You have acted lawless in past. But in here? I think not. You may have acted without a second thought for your surroundings, homes. But in here? I think not. I will not lie to you and say I will teach you discipline, loyalty, trustworthiness, kindness. Because that is not why you or I am here. Honestly, I care not if you die before you reach those gates."

  The Warden spoke in what could be mistaken for a slight German accent. Pointing to the gates behind him, he continued.

  "No, I care not if you learn something or not while here. My fault, I think not. My responsibility, bah!"

  The tapping of the stick hadn't stopped; it echoed like a drumbeat while he spoke. He seemed to draw life from it. To grow from it. To embrace it.

  "You will see little of me. But I will see much of you. I will know when you sleep. Talk. Walk. Eat. I play in the shadows. They are my friends. No, you will see very little of me. But Shanks you see much of. He will be mother, brother, father, sister--"

  "Then what does that make you?" asked a prisoner to Phoenix's left.

  "Me," said the Warden pointing to his chest, "God."

  The prisoner who spoke laughed, and the Warden allowed him to finish before he continued.

  "Like any home, there are rules. There must be rules. Clean is how I like things. Once through gates, clean is how I want things to stay. I care not where you come from. How you raised. The one thing that will happen is that you will obey the rules," said the Warden with a smile.

  "Here is what I think of your rules," spoke the same prisoner. Pulling down his pants, he started to urinate on the floor.

  "Err, is he doing what I think he's doing?" Phoenix whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  Plowstow took a sideways glance and gave Phoenix a simple nod.

  "Clean enough for you?" The prisoner laughed.

  The Warden lifted his stick at a leisurely pace and pointed it towards the offender. Blue light crackled from its tip and hit the prisoner in the chest. Body convulsing, the prisoner seemed to do a little jig. Pants down, mouth agape, they all watched as the lights in his eyes dimmed.

  The prisoner toppled and fell face-first. Smoke rose from his body; the smell of burnt flesh reminded Phoenix of bacon.

  Inching away from the dead inmate one by one, the prisoners to the left and right of him acted as if the corpse didn't exist.

  "A plasma gun, disguised as a cane. Impressive," muttered Plowstow.

  The Warden lowered the cane back down, a slight smirk appearing on his decrepit face. Once again, his gaze swept up and down the group assembled in front of him. The air was tense with silence and the hidden fear they all shared.

  Getting out of here was going to be harder than Phoenix had first thought, if this maniac ruled the roost.

  "We have an understanding now, yes?" asked the Warden.

  14

  Phoenix and the other prisoners were led in a line like a herd of cattle to slaughter. They made it through the gates without further incident. Everyone was quiet and manageable after witnessing the swift justice dealt out to anyone who didn't comply with the rules.

  Phoenix lifted his gaze up and saw rows and rows of prison cells ascending out of sight. He could see faces and limbs hanging out of most. Eyes here and there peered at the newcomers. Shouts and catcalls echoed around the prison. Walking past the ones on ground level, Phoenix peered into them. They were larger than he expected--clean, but very basic.

  "This is very low-tech. I was expecting more...I don't know," Phoenix muttered to Plowstow.

  "You were expecting more gadgets? Plasma bars on the prison doors, that sort of thing?" Plowstow smirked.

  "Yeah, I guess. If I didn't know better, I would think I was back on earth. You know, the backwards planet that doesn't have interstellar travel."

  "Look at it this way. The less tech, the less can go wrong. Don't get me wrong, there are prisons that have everything that you could think of. Plasma bars, guard bots, anti-gravity holding chambers, suspended animation pods--"

  "Are you just making stuff up?" asked Phoenix.

  "No," said Plowstow. "Point is, all those prisons have been broken out of one way or another. People have hacked into them and used all the security measures against the guards, the equipment designers are always asking for higher maintenance fees and upgrades, and on and on it goes. So I hear the Warden here got rid of all that and kept it nice and simple. Since he took over, no one has been able to get out of Dredar."

  "That makes no sense. If there's a will, there's a way. People have escaped, we just don't know about them."

  Plowstow gave Phoenix a shrug and kept on walking.

  Everything was so clean, but it wasn't immaculate. If you looked close enough, you could still see faded stains that were no doubt blood marks scrubbed out. Scorch marks from weapons on walls. Rust lingering on bars. The whole feel of the place had the air of an abused wife who covered up her wounds with makeup.

  Phoenix wasn't fooled. The whole place seemed orderly on the surface, but there was something deeper going on.

  He could smell it in the air. He could feel it tingling the hairs on his skin. Something was indeed amiss. He just couldn't tell what.

  Getting split into groups of twos and threes, the line thinned out as prisoners were placed into cells. Further and further they went into the belly of the beast, and still Phoenix was not allocated a cell. Looking behind him, he noticed it was now only him and Plowstow left. Guards followed them from the rear, Shanks led them from the front.

  The further they went, the dirtier it became.

  The few overhead lights Phoenix could see were either blown out or
missing. Rust covered the metal fixtures far more heavily around these parts than where they had previously been.

  Something small with one too many legs scuttled in the shadows.

  Phoenix passed the few cells that were occupied in this part of the prison. Stopping, he peered into the depths of one. Shapes and shadows moved within. Pressing his face closer to the bars, he still couldn't make out what it was.

  He could hear the faintest sounds of groaning as someone moved. But as quickly as the sound escaped, it was swallowed up by the darkness.

  "Move," one of the guards said, pushing Phoenix forward.

  Even he didn't dare raise his voice here, among the shadows and whispers.

  As they came to a stop, Shanks opened a cell door and pointed to it. "This is where you two lovers stay. Will be very comfortable, I am sure." He chuckled.

  Phoenix and Plowstow were shoved inside. Phoenix turned around as the cell door slammed shut. He stood there, unmoving. His eyes didn't leave Shanks's face.

  Shanks stepped back and still Phoenix didn't break eye contact. Shanks began to fidget as the silence grew. The other guards at Shanks's side looked at each other nervously.

  And still, Phoenix stared.

  Shanks's bottom lip pulled back in a snarl as he kicked the prison bars till flakes of rust started to fall away.

  And still, Phoenix stared.

  Shanks roared in anger as he smashed his baton against the bars. Sparks flew and light snarled at the darkness, pushing it briefly back.

  Phoenix walked slowly towards the bars, bringing his face inches from it. "I know it may not be your fault that I'm here. I know it's the will of Holger. But in my eyes, the Warden works for him. And you work for the Warden. So you are part of the reason why I am here. You are part of the reason why people precious to me may die. So know this, Shanks. I will escape. And may the gods help anything that gets in my way," said Phoenix.

  Shanks stared at Phoenix in shock. He didn't say anything at first, but simply walked back a few paces. Then the heavens opened while he roared with laughter. Walking away, he didn't give them a backwards glance.