Breakout: (Space Outlaw 1)

by Dominique Mondesir

  Phoenix closed his eyes and tried to think happy thoughts. He tried to picture the twin's faces. Oliver and Olivia.

  They were always smiling, joyful, content. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They were so smart, so resourceful. They would always pick on him for not knowing this fact or not knowing how to do this equation. But the simple fact of the matter was they were just smarter than him.

  Gifted children. Each pushing the other to greater heights. Each trying to outdo each other in whatever field they happened to be studying that day. They had been his parents' pride and joy. They were both surprises, unplanned, but still a happy surprise nevertheless. His mother had Phoenix early in life, while the other two came much, much, later.

  He felt sorry for them--not having the love he received. They had experienced some of it, but it had been cut short. Taken away before they could fully appreciate it, while he had squandered his.

  He was always the black sheep of the family, the law-breaker. Never listening to advice, never wanting to take it. It felt like he was born with a chip on his shoulder. Something to prove, some fight to resolve. That's why he chose the army, until they kicked him out.

  The fights he would have with his parents. For what? Wasted time, wasted effort.

  Fool!

  With sweat slowly rolling down his forehead, Phoenix opened his eyes. Was it getting hotter in here? Licking his lips, they came away salty. He didn't remember the temperature being this hot.

  "Please, not again! Make it stop, make it stop!" The screaming came somewhere from his left.

  "Anything but the heat!" That one from his right.

  As it grew hotter and hotter, Phoenix blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes. Lips went dry and cracked. Skin sweated until he thought his pores would run dry. It seemed to last forever.

  With eyes closed, he didn't know how long the heat lasted. It could have been minutes, but felt like hours. Silence reigned supreme among the prisoners. Feeling a slight chill as goosebumps made their way down his back, he opened his eyes.

  Had he become delirious from the heat?

  His breath billowed out in front of him in a fine mist and he let out an anguished sigh. Sweat coated his body, threatening to turn to ice.

  So this was their game, their plan to break him. This was how they treated their prisoners. This, they thought, would make him obey.

  How little they knew!

  21

  The cell door jerked open and Phoenix was thrown head-first into it.

  He landed heavily, like a swimmer belly-flopping into a shallow pool. When the cell door slammed behind him forcefully, he wanted to give a witty retort, but his mind was foggy and clouded.

  Phoenix groaned as he felt hands turn him over. Looking up with his one good eye, he saw the faces of Plowstow and Freyan. Trying to give them a smile, he grimaced instead. His face hurt too much, his body felt battered. He didn't know if he would survive.

  "Lift him up," said Freyan.

  With the ease of picking up a child, Plowstow scooped him up. This was so undignified. He wasn't some helpless damsel in distress or a sick child to be carried.

  Freyan made his way to the cell bars and peered between them. He looked left, then right. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he came back to the centre of the cell.

  "What I am about to do cannot leave this place. If it does, you will not only endanger me, but you will also endanger yourself. I need everyone's oath that what you will see here will not be uttered, repeated, or whispered of," said Freyan.

  "What are you talking about?" Plowstow gestured his head towards Phoenix. "He won't make it through the night. So whatever you're going to do, I don't see how it will be much of a benefit. I say we put him out of his misery."

  "I can...hear you...you know," spluttered Phoenix.

  "Both of you, this is of the utmost importance. I need you to swear an oath to me," said Freyan.

  "Fine. I swear," said Plowstow with an eye-roll.

  "I swear," whispered Phoenix.

  "Good."

  Freyan brought a dark sheet from the corner of the cell and draped it over the bars to block anyone from looking inside. Pulling a small, metal device from under his bunk, Freyan placed it in the middle of the cell. It was bulbous at both ends and skinny in the middle. He pushed a button on it and both ends began to flash intermittently.

  "Is that...what I think it is?" Plowstow asked, taking a step closer to the device.

  "Yes, a signal jammer. This should hopefully take care of any little devices the Warden has around here. If they do realise something is wrong, then our business here should be concluded by the time they arrive."

  Freyan walked to another part of the prison cell and traced his hand along the wall until he found what he was looking for. Running his fingers up and down a small section of the wall, he nodded with satisfaction. He pushed against it until an audible click could be heard.

  As part of the far wall slid away, it revealed a small, sunken chamber, no more than three feet deep.

  "Place him on that bottom bunk and push the bunk into the centre of the room. Hurry now. Time is of the essence," said Freyan.

  Plowstow stared at the hidden chamber in awe. "What is that?"

  "A security compartment to store contraband, which I do not wish to be seen by prying eyes," said Freyan.

  Plowstow gave Freyan a blank stare, mouth hanging agape.

  "It's a hole to hide stuff in."

  "Ohh. Like what?" said Plowstow.

  "Before I was locked up in this pit of despair they call a prison, I was a doctor and scientist. One of the best in the modern era--"

  "Freyan, I thought we talked...about...ego. If you want people to like you more, you should try keeping it in check. And that's...coming from me," whispered Phoenix.

  "I am simply stating facts. Facts that were published in more than one scientific journal. What more can I do but simply give you the facts as they have been presented to me?"

  "You still haven't said what all this stuff is," said Plowstow.

  "Basic equipment that any second-rate doctor would need. I have gone to great effort to gain these. Doing things I thought I never would. Whatever I couldn't get, I simply made. It is surprising what tasks you can accomplish with boredom and spare time."

  Phoenix lifted his head as Freyan drew closer, only to have Freyan push it lightly back down. Freyan brought a syringe close to his face, and did what all doctors do the universe over. He flicked it with the tip of his finger.

  "Now, I would give you some drugs for the pain, but I don't have any. What I will do is inject you with these basic nanobots. They will help you heal faster from now on. Really, I am ashamed to even use them on you, they are that primitive. But when needs must..."

  "Nanobots?" asked Phoenix weakly.

  "Yes, nanobots. Like everything revolutionary, they are mostly used by the super-rich and elite soldiers. Depending on the subject's DNA, they will improve speed, hand-eye coordination, intelligence, and healing."

  "Side-effects?"

  "None. The individual's DNA determines how well the nanobots will take to you. I have seen a few rare cases where the subjects became almost superbeings. But subjects like that are few and far between. At most, it will aid recovery and keep you from dying."

  "This sounds dangerous," said Plowstow.

  "Oh. There is, I guess, a chance the subject may die. Or become chemically imbalanced and turn insane," Freyan said quickly, busying himself so he didn't have to make eye contact. "But I am hoping against that."

  "Hope. That is what a great doctor and scientist like you is basing this medical procedure on? Hope. You know what, I'm feeling much better. I don't think I need those nano things. Just let me rest," said Phoenix, trying to get off the bunk.

  He was once again pushed back down by Freyan.

  "Look, normally I would advise you to let me scan you fully before we start. But we do not have that luxury. And because I can't scan you, I can't tell if t
here is any internal bleeding or what damage has been done. So this is the best worst option that we have."

  "Freyan, have you done this before?" asked Phoenix.

  Letting out a mechanical, eerie laugh, the Bloodless being shook his head sadly at Phoenix before answering.

  "Done this before? Done this before! I created nanobots. I was paid by the best and wealthiest families, governments, and generals for my knowledge. I spat in the eye of the creator of the universe with my scientific accomplishments. I breathed life into things once dead. I coded and decoded genes, which many thought impossible. I cured diseases that terrorised millions.

  "I helped civilisations get back to their feet with my knowledge. I am a god in my own right. I am what those hacks wished they could have been! I was on the verge of creating something new. Something better. But my research was halted. If it weren't for that bastard's family, then I wouldn't even be here in this filth. Among these..." He paused, letting out a heavy sigh. "So yes, Phoenix, I have done this before. It's just a simple procedure. Nothing to worry about. Now close your eyes and allow the bots to work."

  22

  Phoenix walked back from the cafeteria with Plowstow and Freyan. Rubbing the back of his neck, he had the funny feeling he was being watched. It was a feeling that accompanied him like a shadow now.

  A few weeks had passed since he'd been injected with Freyan's nanobots. Those were weeks he couldn't afford to lose. He was no closer to finding Saoirse, he was still trapped in this hellhole, and now, the twins were even closer to death's door. Fucking weeks lost, and what had he done?

  His only means of escape from this place had vanished in a puff of smoke. He couldn't find Saoirse anywhere. She no longer seemed to eat in the cafeteria, she no longer seem to be anywhere. For all he knew she could be dead. The few inquiries he made were met with deadpan stares, or simply nervous shakes of the head before those being asked ran the other way in fear.

  Whoever she was outside this prison, her reputation had obviously reached through the prison walls. She seemed to have a reputation that no one wanted to cross. The few hints of interest he did get were from prisoners who seemed to want as much information on her as he did himself. He couldn't figure out why, but he had a feeling there were a few people in this place that wanted some alone time with her just as badly as he did. Looking at the gleam of anger in the eyes of the few aliens that had showed interest at her name, Phoenix got the feeling that quiet conversation wouldn't stay so for very long.

  There seemed to be no ill effects that he could feel from the nanobots. No sudden murderous rage or homicidal impulses. He would sometimes catch Freyan watching him out of the corner of his eye. Maybe waiting for him to keel over or go on a murderous rampage.

  He didn't feel any stronger or smarter. But his injuries had healed a lot quicker than they normally would have. Freyan had said to him that the basic nanobots in his system were purely designed for recovery. When Phoenix had inquired further about Freyan's life outside of these walls, he got nothing solid back in response.

  Plowstow had warned him about looking into inmates' pasts, so he didn't try and push too hard.

  "Not finding Saoirse is beginning to get on my nerves. I hope she hasn't been attacked," said Phoenix.

  "That one. Hah! I would pay to see the fool that would take that on. I would do it myself for the right price. But the prices I've heard about ain't really worth the risk. Not for someone with my skill set," said Plowstow.

  Freyan let out a snort and rolled his eyes.

  "What? You don't--"

  "What do you mean prices?" asked Phoenix.

  "Didn't you know? She has a contract on her head. She's put a lot of the people you see around us in this prison. And killed more than triple that number. There are a lot of relatives who want payback. So just saying, if I were you, I wouldn't ask to many questions about her. Could come back and haunt you," said Plowstow.

  "Hmm." Phoenix allowed his mind to wonder while they made their way back to their cells.

  The flickering overhead lights tried to hide the horrors in front of them, but all the poor illumination did was magnify it tenfold. Bloodstains could be seen on the walls, splashed against it like a young college student's best attempt at art. Some stains were the outline of hands, immortalised for the passing world to see--an ever-present reminder that these hallways were never safe. And one should do their best not to travel it alone. Rusty cell doors stood shut, forgotten in the very pits of the prison. It appeared the Warden's liking for cleanliness and neatness hadn't reached these forgotten halls.

  In a sense, lawlessness roamed in the very house that stood against it.

  What better place to put an annoyance you wanted to get rid of? Why dirty your hands when the ecosystem of the prison would do the deed for you?

  "What is your fascination with this woman? Surely, if it's sexual intercourse you desire, there are more attainable suitors," said Freyan.

  "One, I have never picked a sexual suitor because they're easily attainable. Two, I have some business I need to speak to her about that could very well help me. And three, what the hell is that?"

  Phoenix dodged an arm that shot through a pair of rusty bars. It was thin, crested with sores, and veiny. It waved back and forth, trying to get at them, desperate in its attempts for contact.

  "What the hell?" asked Phoenix.

  "This is part of the reason I am isolated from everyone else. This is part of the reason why I am hated by the Warden. This is the reason why I always check your meals before you consume them. This is what I have been digging into, what I have been trying to stop. The dirty little secret that is taking place in this prison," said Freyan.

  "And that would be?"

  Freyan moved towards the hand and stroked it, offering calming oohs like he would to a threatened child. He took out a syringe and injected the arm with it.

  Phoenix moved closer towards the bars that prevented the horror inside from escaping. Looking in, what he saw took his breath away.

  Wide, saucer-like eyes stared back at him. Bloodshot, veiny, vacant. The alien's facial features were hollow, thin, and malnourished. Drool slowly escaped its mouth. It made no effort to wipe it.

  "Freyan, he looks like a drug addict," whispered Phoenix.

  "Indeed he does. Every so often, seemingly at random, there will be a batch of food served in the cafeteria with some sort of mood-altering drug in it. I don't know the purpose, but it makes the user docile. Not only that, but once the drug has been administered, whatever instructions are given, the user will act upon it, no questions asked. No matter what those instructions are."

  "How is that possible?"

  "Oh, it is very possible. I heard rumours of its creation a while back, before I came here. But I never thought I would see it in existence, especially not in such a heavy quantity. Never in a place like this. The aims and purpose? I have not been able to figure that out yet. All I can do is try and combat its effects as best as I can with the means I have," said Freyan.

  Hearing a sound behind them, they all turned round.

  Midnight-blue skin disappeared around a corner as wisps of jet-black hair billowed behind like a cape. Then, the intruder disappeared from sight.

  23

  "Hey!" shouted Phoenix, taking off at a run.

  "Where are you going?" shouted Plowstow.

  "After her!"

  Legs pumping and fists moving, Phoenix gave chase. He would not allow her to give him the slip this time. The days and weeks he had spent looking for her had been lost, never to be returned again.

  He would find her and force her to take him out of here when her plan for escape was ready.

  He wasn't a master code breaker but he knew what breakout meant. How many others had Florin entrusted with a similar message, how many before him? If Phoenix wasn't the only one--and why would he be?--then his time was limited. The one and only ship out of here might have long since sailed.

  But if he never confronted h
er or spoke to her longer than a second, how could he ever know?

  He needed her help and whether she liked it or not, she would give it to him.

  Hair! Left!

  He followed, hot on her trail. His footsteps pounded against the floor, heart racing at his goal in sight.

  Hair! Right!

  Phoenix's lungs burned as he willed himself forward. Coming to a long stretch of narrow corridor, he didn't see any sign of her. Could she have given him the slip?

  Argh!

  Phoenix powered forward, pushing himself harder. Taking a corner sharply, he banged his shoulder against the wall. Grunting in pain, he used it to push himself. There, up ahead. The last strands of her hair disappearing in the distance.

  She wasn't going to lose him so easily, damnit! She wasn't going to slip away into the shadows while he awaited the end of his days in this place--powerless, helpless, trapped.

  Move, Phoenix! For the love of God, move! They're depending on you! They need you! Move your ass!

  Phoenix's chest burned and his lungs felt like they were on fire as he ran into an open area where shadows raised their children and whispers and echoes went to play.

  He couldn't see hide nor hair of her. Round and round he turned.

  Nothing.

  He could feel his future slipping from his fingers.

  He crept forward, senses heightened, muscles tense.

  Scrap metal gathered dirt in the corners. Bolts and screws littered the floor like animal droppings. Phoenix moved delicately. He didn't want to disturb them. Huge, metal overhead pipes that could swallow a man whole snaked their way along the ceiling.

  Phoenix snapped his head to the left. He breathed in and out, licked his cracked lips.

  He didn't move a muscle as he scanned the shadows to his left. They didn't give anything away at first. They held their secrets close to their chest like a poker player. Waiting, his eyesight adjusted.

  Nothing.