Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3)

by Jim Rudnick

  “Affirmative, Captain. We’ll offload at the EL Pod Plant and then take secondary transport out to see the setup in just a few minutes,” she said.

  She capably swung the pod off the bridge at the exit point and swept it to port to bring it under a large canopied outbuilding. They hopped off the pod once it came to a stop.

  “Want to take a quick look-see inside the Pod Plant while you’re here, Captain?” she asked.

  Without waiting for his answer, she moved to the near doorway and went in ahead of the two Navy men.

  Following her, Tanner held the door for Bram, and they were suddenly in a hot noisy environment that was chock full of men ... convicts, it appeared, working on everything from stacking parts into carousels to sweeping the floor and pushing carts all within the lanes painted on the floor. The three of them stood to watch, staying behind the red line on the floor, but still able to see the huge automated stamping machines as they slammed out new formed parts every single minute.

  “No dress code?” Tanner asked as he noted the laborers were dressed in just about all kinds and types of clothes.

  “Only Penitentiary Guards, maintenance in orange, Provost Guards and administrative officers wear uniforms, Sir. Like mine for instance,” she said, “but yes, the convicts can wear anything they wish.”

  A man in an orange jumpsuit strode by and then stopped cold when he saw her.

  “Captain Terrance, nice to see you again,” he said and held out his hand

  “Ahh,” she said and shook his hand. “Yes, Foreman Abrahamson ... yes, nice to see you too. This is the foreman—some say of the best repair crew for our power plant we have, and my husband works as his lead hand on that crew. May I present our new ranking Navy captain, Captain Scott, and one of his lieutenants, Lieutenant Sander. Gentlemen, Jerry Abrahamson.”

  They all shook hands and made small talk for a moment. The foreman gave his leave, and they were left alone. She nodded to them and then moved up the red line. They must have walked for at least a hundred meters as they left the stamping area and entered a separate area that looked like it was the beginning of the fabrication area where all those parts were put together to make pods. That much bare steel and aluminum made their eyes sting as the bright interior flood lights shone on the newly minted parts.

  “Umm ... color?” Bram said to their chaperone.

  “All pods are exactly the same—well, model for model, that is, and are not painted until they’re completed, tested, and ready for shipment, over in the paint shop—would you—“

  “Not at all, Captain.” Tanner said. “The power plant awaits.”

  Figuring this tour shouldn’t take all day, he moved back toward where they had just come from.

  “Aye, Captain, let’s get back outside and into the van, and I can have you out to the power plant in less than five minutes!”

  Less than five minutes later, they got off the van and mounted the long staircase that climbed the side of the power plant main building, which sat up on one of the berms running up the side of the volcanic cone and then down inside the dormant volcano. Visiting with the power plant superintendent took only a few minutes, as did the walk out of the office area to look down at the huge dynamo area with its huge turbines, giant insulated cables, and power grids.

  It was more than Tanner could really comprehend, as he knew little about this kind of power generation; however, he did understand the use of steam or the superheated water to turn the turbine generators to make electricity. He wondered what the volume of the output would be but didn’t want to ask as that answer would probably entail more time. All he wanted now was to end this and get back to his bunk on the Marwick.

  They nodded. They looked down and walked the catwalk for a couple of hundred meters and then he looked at their chaperone.

  “Captain, we need to call it on this tour. Can you arrange to get us taken back to the Marwick, as I find myself needing to make a report back to Juno?” he lied.

  Their tour guide nodded and hustled them out and back through the offices to the staircase down to the prison van. In less than half an hour, they were back onboard the Marwick.

  Sitting on the edge of his bunk, he knew there was a bottle—a full bottle—of Scotch still in his head, and he thought about standing up to go and get it. But he didn’t, and instead he leaned back, stared up at his quarter’s ceiling and walls, and wondered what he had to do to forget about that bottle.

  #

  “Andre, where’d you load up the Galacians?” Countess Tibah said, as she rummaged through the large bins in the back of the van.

  Arriving early at the Farmers Market was something she insisted upon and that was also accompanied by her micro-managing the style and layouts of their vegetable stall displays too.

  “In with the butternuts,” Andre replied as he hoisted up another big carton of Muscat squashes and made his way forward toward the racks that lay at the front of their stall. He was able to get that carton to its spot and then began removing the small gourds. He placed them in rows to pyramid the display for the shoppers to look over before they bought their choices. Beside those dark green gourds, he’d already placed the tomatillos and winter melons in divided shelves, and once the Muscats were placed, he knew it was almost time to get out their fancies.

  “Looking good, Andre,” Tibah said as she manhandled a bushel basket full of gold rush pumpkins.

  She wiped her brow as she set it beside others already in place. Around them, the rest of the setup team of five of their group were helping unload the van and setting up for today’s Farmers Market. More than 200 other farmers were setting up as well, and the whole area was a mass of empty cartons, baskets, and sacks that needed to be hidden away back in the van for take-down at the end of the day.

  Moving back to the van, Tibah hoisted up only three courgettes as they were all at least four feet long with a girth that was at least five inches across. Growing nicely, she was happy that this special sub-set of the cucurtbit vegetable would be an easy seller too. If people only knew, she thought, grinned to herself and, had to bury her face behind the grouping of huge whitish stalks in her hands. She placed them with a couple of others on the side table near the front left edge of the stall and moved back to the van.

  “Fancies next,” Tibah said and grabbed an armful of now empty sacks to toss in the van at the same time. Pulling the last set of cartons from within the van, she slid the stack toward Andre and then picked up the larger one and hauled it out to the center of the display area at the very front of their stall. Opening the carton, she reached in and pulled out a hybrid direct from their farms. This one looked like a whole comet pumpkin. Its sides were mottled yellow and green spotted in stripes, but a huge round part of the rind was a bright, dark, deep green that was of a rougher texture. Tibah put it on the center part of the shelf and twisted it so the inserted avocado-colored circle would be seen, though she admitted that it looked odd.

  Pulling fancy after fancy out of the carton, she arranged butternut squash with cucumber inserts beside sweet yellow peppers with red tomato portions on one half, which were next to butternut squash with fuzzy big peach inserts. All in all, there were more than three dozen of these special fancy vegetable-fruit hybrids that would surely attract attention, and she smiled at Andre as they finished the display and noted the bell that usually rang to open the Market hadn’t yet rung.

  “And we’re early too,” Tibah said and clapped her helper on the arm.

  Andre nodded and smiled.

  “We are and that’s a first in what, like a month or so, Countess?” he said.

  “No Countess today, Andre. Today—in fact every market day—I’m just Tibah,” she said, her violet eyes twinkling, and she laughed loudly. Together they hustled the rest of the packing materials back into the van and slid the huge rear door closed.

  Tibah went back up to the side of the front display shelves just to one side of their fancy display, chatted with their cashier, and checked that
all was well and how much change was on hand for cash buyers. As well, she was assured that the payment gateway direct into their account was up and live, and they would be able to handle any direct charges too.

  Tibah moved in front of the stall and looked over its complete width; as a doublewide stall, it stretched more than twenty-five feet and was on the corner of a major intersection and the side of the Farmers Market that faced the farm prison yard. Across the large wide pedestrian-only lanes that separated the stalls stood a great spot to buy cheeses of all kinds, even imported from other planets on the RIM. Beside it was the number one charcuterie shop with meats from over 100 different animals and fowl as well. Tibah often went across to chat with their owner and had become somewhat a friend here in the few months that the Caliphatians had been here on Halberd. She nodded and waved to the owner there, a small alien from Duos, that double world that swung so oddly around its huge red sun. Duoites, it was said, were one of those alien races that took to commerce so easily that trying to bargain with one usually went south right away. She had stood and watched a few times when the owner had held firm on his pricing while customers had walked away. Profit did need to be made, but Tibah also thought that making a name for yourself by offering great products at a fair price went a lot further with a smile, and yes, she would often countenance cutting her prices somewhat.

  Down the lane to the right lay a couple more sections of stalls and the city street that once more held traffic. On the other side was the EL elevator ground station that connected the planet with Pike Station more than 30,000 miles straight up. She tilted back her head to scan the black carbon fiber rails that did that climb. It disappeared way above her head, and she almost tumbled backward looking so far up.

  Walking past at this instant, two Provost Guards nodded first to her and then sidled over to say hello.

  “Ma’am, your stuff looks great. Hope you sell out today, Countess,” the one younger guard said, and then they both moved off.

  “And I agree, Countess,” Tanner said coming up from behind her and circling to stand beside her at the front of the stall.

  “Ah, Captain Scott of the RIM Navy ... so I would guess that you’re in need of some vegetables—perhaps you should have sent your ship’s chef,” she said as she looked directly into his eyes.

  Violet is becoming my favorite color, he thought and yet remembered to nod in agreement.

  “Yes, Countess, I should have but I will ensure to make mention of it later today—but by then you’ll have already sold out most likely. What I do see—wait, what are these, um, oddly marred ones?” he said as he picked up what at first looked like a sweet green pepper and turned it over to see the other side was pebbled, red, and had a bit of a dimpled rind.

  “That one is part green pepper,” she said pointing at the one side with a slim finger, “and the other side is a strawberry—what we call one of our fancy hybrids.”

  She reached back to the far side of the display shelf, pulled out a flat knife, and took the item from his grasp. Holding it lined up, she carefully cut straight through the hybrid. Smiling at Tanner, she held up each half.

  “One side is plain green pepper—well, not plain, organically grown and sweet, sweet, sweet, and the other,” she said as she held it up, “is a solid strawberry, again sweet too!”

  Tanner stared at the two halves. The pepper half was empty and up top held the seeds a normal green pepper would ... one used it not for the air it held but for the sweet green skin. The other was a strawberry, shaped, of course, as a green pepper might be, but a strawberry nonetheless. Solid fruit from the outer skin through to the halfway point of the hybrid.

  He grinned at her.

  “Now, that is so cool—but what prevents the strawberry from filling up the whole interior cavity as it grows?” he asked as he looked back and forth between the two halves.

  “Our gene splicing using the best GMO secrets we could find is how. Seems the interiors fill only where they have direct skin contact. We call them ‘fancies’ and that seems to work.

  Tanner smiled and threw her a salute.

  “Ma’am, that is one different but so smart an idea. I bet you do sell out today and every day! My opinion on Caliphatian intellect just went up a huge notch!” He grabbed up the strawberry half and then reached in his pocket, but Tibah laid a hand on his forearm. The feeling alone felt good, he thought.

  “Consider this one a freebie, Captain, but do send your chef next time!” she said and gently squeezed his arm before letting go.

  He smiled at that, gave her a real salute, and then wandered off to look across the lane at the cheeses on display in the large glass cases. She watched him and noted that he appeared to like a couple and bought two small amounts and accepted them gladly. He waved at her one more time and then walked off toward the next section of stalls. She wondered what that had been abouy, but she was glad he had dropped by.

  #

  Carnarvon was one of those worlds that when first viewed from space received a nod from all the new tourists to see it. The fourth planet from its large red sun, an M2 red super-giant star that put out so much spectral heat, Carnarvon, was a hot, hot place to call home.

  Carnarvon’s oceans were blue, but the landmass continents shone red with the reflected light of that huge solar furnace. Adding to the overall red glow that was the daylight was the almost constant volcanic activity occurring along the tectonic plate junctures that coursed through the continents and the wide and sparsely separated islands. Carnarvon soaked up the red rays from the red super-giant star, ably supported by the hot gases from beneath the planet’s core.

  Most of the cities of the planet were on Vulia, the largest continent in the northern hemisphere, with smaller regional cities outside the major population area. The planet’s capital city, Veloka, with over one million citizens was on the eastern coast of that large continent, and as the city with the planet’s landing port, it was where all the FTL ships ended up waiting for the planet to allow them to land.

  Except for us, Captain Flannery thought, as he shook his head at his lieutenant and said dryly, “Acknowledge that we got that Ansible, Lieutenant, but then just tell them we’re on our way down.”

  The lieutenant who was the Ansible officer of the day stared back. His face was a question, but he said not a word. He nodded, spoke into his throat mic, and shrugged a couple of times at the answers he got. His shoulders pulsed as he appeared to be now forcefully answering the ground officer at the Carnarvon landing port administration offices, but the bridge was quiet. Moments later, there was the tell-tale tapping of a heel as the Lady St. August, who had been sitting quietly, let all on the bridge know that when a Royal wanted to land, they would simply do so.

  Nodding to the other man on the Ansible, even though it couldn’t be seen by the Carnarvon officer below, Lieutenant Symons turned back to the captain and smiled.

  “Sir, we’re granted permission to land at our leisure, I’m told, and it’s been verified as well, Sir. Ma’am,” he said as he glanced between his captain and the Lady.

  “Fine, Lieutenant. Helm, take us down, please, smoothly too I’d add,” the captain said.

  The Sterling seemed to yaw at first, and then it’s pitch changed as thrusters on control of the helm officer took over, and the Sterling began to go down to the planet on its tail. The Lady smiled at her captain and nodded.

  Below them as the world slowly came into view, just about every single building, roof, park, and roadway reflected the red light that shone back. Carnarvon was red and that color was seen off everything below.

  Minutes later, the Sterling began to pulse with its mag-lev thrusters, and shortly thereafter, the landing fins rung out as they found purchase on the tarmac and the Sterling had landed. Smooth, free from any problems, and the Lady smiled once more at her bridge crew.

  “Nice landing, and my compliments, gentlemen,” she said as she rose to go down to her quarters.

  “Captain, please have transpo
rt ready for me in about two hours, please, to take me to the Barony Embassy. Thank you,” she said and left without a further word, but in five seconds, she was back.

  “Sorry, Captain, but I forgot. Please contact the University. I want their best expert on our RIM Confederacy statutes to attend me at our Embassy. Best mind you, someone who I can ask anything and get some truthful answers—truthful legal answers. Arrange that now if you please,” she finished, turned on a shapely leg, and exited the bridge for the second time.

  The crew was busy with their landing verification checklists, but Lieutenant Symons just had to say something.

  “Sir, with permission ... she pushes for the ‘Royal’ privileges and then goes to her quarters for a nap? We would have been granted landing rights in most likely an hour or so, so it wouldn’t have mattered at all. Sir?” he said, and the rest of the bridge crew looked at their captain.

  “Ours is not to question or query Royals on any matter ever. It’s what we do being Barony Navy men, and may I remind you that its orders we follow. Period, Lieutenant. That is all,” he said and turned to his right to look at his XO.

  “XO, while I contact the University, put together an away team, EliteGuards need to be notified, couple of Provost officers as well, I’d think, and notify the Embassy we’re going to be received in about two hours. No hoopla, but still, it is the next Baroness we’re delivering, so stand on protocol, please. Comm to you XO, dismissed,” he said as he rose and left the bridge.

  A soft sigh escaped the lips of a few of the crew left behind, but not a comment was made as they went back to their checklists and preparation of Customs, Health, and Cargo inspectors.

  Less than two hours later, a visitor waited at the Barony Embassy, which was located on the second floor of an older and well-maintained mansion in the embassy row area of Veloka near the city center. Seated in the conference room were the Barony ambassador and his aide, a tall youngish looking academic in a neatly pressed suit with the usual Carnarvon red tint to his skin. One chair next to the ambassador remained empty.