“Hello, Sebastian, I’ve been told you’re my new friend,” he said, his voice gravely and low.
“Who told you?”
The inmate swung his head to the big man on his left, and he favored Sebastian with a wide, equally gap-toothed smile and then licked his lips.
“Questions like that will stop us being friends and you wouldn’t like the result.”
Sebastian shoveled slop again while he considered his options, but all three men stood up. The first leaned over the table toward him.
“See you later, Sebastian.”
They swaggered away, their bulging rolls of fat undulating like overripe oranges. Sebastian sighed. Association began in an hour.
SEBASTIAN WAS LYING on his cot when the siren blasted. Then door bolts ratcheted. He had six hours before he could return to the safety of his cell. He felt resigned, but as usual Gabriel showed no inclination to leave their cell.
“Who were the three men that drove you away at breakfast?” Sebastian asked.
Gabriel leaned casually against the wall, picking his teeth, as if the slop they’d eaten contained anything to clog your teeth.
“They’re mavericks, so don’t worry about them.” Gabriel examined and then sucked a sticky finger. “They carry out freelance work, but they’re not bright enough to run anything and they’re too lazy to work full time.”
Sebastian stretched out on his cot. “If they’re after you, how do you stop them?”
“Why are they after you?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t know. One of them said he wanted to be my friend.”
Gabriel rubbed his nose. “They instill fear and rarely need to do anything, so they probably just noticed a new boy and decided to check you out.”
“But if you needed to avoid them, what would you do?”
“If they are after you, someone hired them, so you’ll have to kill them or use my method and disappear in full view.”
Sebastian stood up. Outside, waves of shouting built up as the inmates slipped out of their cells and mingled. Before he could decide whether to stay here or go to the entrance, the door darkened as one of the huge inmates filled the doorway.
“Hello,” he said. “As we’re such good friends, we decided to pay you a visit.”
Gabriel slunk into his cot as a second huge inmate waddled into the cell.
“You, wait outside,” the first man said, pointing behind Sebastian.
Gabriel bolted for the door, but then the third man swung into the cell. The new arrival stepped aside with a mocking bow and Gabriel slipped outside. Sebastian levered himself to his feet and strolled four paces to lean against the opposite wall. He flexed his mind muscles.
Defend him seemed a good instruction, although afterward he’d be helpless. Kill the others was better, but he didn’t know which one to choose when they were all so massively built.
“So who are my new friends?” he said.
The nearest man chuckled, his voice deep, and then pointed at the other two.
“We’re Joshua, Tag and Orville. We’re pleased to make your acquaintance.”
With the names listed in that order, Joshua would be the leader and, in a world where muscles counted over brain, he’d be the strongest. With that issue resolved, Sebastian formed the command: Kill Tag and Orville. He smiled as Joshua pointed at Tag, who winked and waddled from the cell, shutting the door behind him.
Sebastian turned to Orville. “Now we’re alone, what would you like to discuss?”
Orville slumped on the edge of Sebastian’s cot. “No, we talk and you listen.”
Joshua rubbed his shining scalp and then set his hands on the general region where his hips should be.
“El Duce gave you a package to deliver,” he said. “You failed and we want it back.”
“So El Duce hired you,” Sebastian said, with what he hoped was incredulity in his voice. “I’m sorry about the package, but someone killed my contact and then chased me all over New Vancouver. I only just escaped with my life.”
Joshua knotted his eyebrows hinting that some thought process took place behind them. He stuck out his bottom lip.
“That’s irrelevant. Give us what’s ours.”
“If you reckon I’m responsible, let me work for you again. I can prove my worth.”
Joshua shook his head. “We just want the package.”
Sebastian noted his optic display uselessly flashed 482.7 at him.
“What was in it?”
Joshua cracked his knuckles. The noise echoed around the cell.
“Make your choice. Then tell us where you hid it.”
Sebastian smiled. Presumably, they didn’t know what was in it and if El Duce wanted the shard, they wouldn’t kill him until he told them where he’d hidden it. He had a bargaining chip, as long as nobody suspected it was in his neck port.
“I have a choice, do I? That choice is to tell you where I’ve hidden the package or you kill me, I suppose.”
With a chuckle Joshua shook his head. Flab shuddered to a halt seconds after the headshake.
“You get a different choice. Tell us about the package and as a reward we’ll beat you to a pulp. If you survive, we’ll wait until you get out of the hospital. Then we’ll pulp you again and we’ll keep on pulping until there’s nothing left to break.”
Sebastian formed the push command again. “And if I don’t tell you?”
Joshua thudded a fist into his other hand. “We hand you over to the Doctor. His tastes are different to ours. After time spent with him, you’ll wish you’d let us pulp you.”
Sebastian flexed his mind, but before he could push the door thudded open. Tag waddled into the doorway clutching a red-streaked object in his arms. Tag spread his arms, releasing Gabriel, who staggered into the cell with blood splattered down the front of his uniform.
“That was something on account,” Joshua said, and swaggered to the door.
Chapter Twelve
THE TWO WEEKS SEBASTIAN spent in Solitary were a peaceful interlude that he wished he could last out for another sixteen months. Tag’s fatal stabbing of Gabriel showed that the inmates had weapons and his hopes that the authorities would move Joshua and his colleagues to Level Zero were quickly dashed.
Warden Sark showed no interest in solving the murder, other than to sentence anyone near to the incident to solitary confinement. Sebastian didn’t complain. The Solitary cell was just as gray as the rest of the penal colony, but without the incessant noise or the need to meet other inmates.
When his term ended guards dragged him before Sark, who slouched in his chair. His beady eyes behind the owl frame glasses regarded Sebastian with contempt. Sebastian had claimed to know nothing about the incident, as he knew enough about prison etiquette to be sure that informing – even on people who wanted you dead – was a bad idea.
Sebastian tried a gentle push: Send me to Solitary.
“Is there anything more?” Sark asked, his flat voice showing no interest in any answer Sebastian might give.
“I have nothing more to add. Does this mean you’ll send me back to Solitary?”
Send me back to Solitary, Sebastian pushed harder.
Sark gulped, his brow furrowing quizzically. “I’m minded to send you to Solitary for not answering my questions, but our rules prohibit that. So you’ll return to your cell in Level One.”
“I’m in danger. I don’t know who’s after me, but some inmates reckon I’m a worse criminal than I am. Perhaps you shouldn’t return me to Level One.”
Keep me away from Level One, Sebastian pushed. His head throbbed after so much effort.
Sark shook his head. “My only option is to send you to Level Zero and you wouldn’t want that.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Sebastian said while tottering.
“More to the point, if I sent everyone to Level Zero after other inmates had attacked them, the rest of the penal colony would empty in a week.”
SEBASTIAN’S NEW CELLMATE, intr
oduced as Eli, was a spotty, angular faced individual, who kept his eyes glued on Sebastian’s every movement. Sebastian realized that Eli must reckon he was an old hand, and he probably knew the fate of his previous cellmate.
“What are you in here for?” Sebastian asked.
Eli winced, his eyes wide open. “I didn’t do anything. I’m innocent. I don’t belong here.”
“Aren’t we all.”
Sebastian flung himself onto his cot, and concentrated on letting his headache fade away.
“Sebastian?” Eli asked after a while.
Sebastian sighed. “Yes?”
“The guard who brought me in said they never interfere if the inmates want to kill each other. Is this true?”
“They all ask that, and it’s true.”
“So who controls protection?”
“Why do you reckon you can get that?”
Eli slipped from his cot. “A friend told me that to survive, I needed to hire someone to protect me and I should offer them whatever they wanted.”
“You said you’re innocent and yet you know people with information about this place.”
“I only said I’m innocent of what they charged me with.” Eli wagged a long finger at Sebastian. “So who runs this place?”
“You’re a resourceful guy, so when you figure that out, tell me.”
The next morning, at breakfast Sebastian left his cell in search of a minder. He shuffled to the Circle and took his bowl. Gruel in hand, he edged toward the sprawl of benches. Most inmates slumped on the central benches, leaving the outer benches for the sick and drugged inmates.
With a measured tread and downcast eyes Sebastian headed to the farthest bench on the left, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally meet Joshua and his colleagues. There, he selected the individual who seemed to be the unhealthiest and flopped onto the bench opposite him.
The scrawny waif didn’t react. He was too busy shoveling as much of his meal into his mouth as he could with a palsied hand. Despite his efforts, most of it already graced the front of his tunic.
Sebastian reckoned this man was a good place to start, as the main work of the gangs in Level One would surely involve drugs. Smiling hopefully, Sebastian leaned toward him.
“Hi, I’m Sebastian. I need some help.”
The man spooned in his next mouthful. “You won’t get any.”
“You look like a man with information. What’s the main buzz?” Sebastian mentally crossed his fingers. Drug culture was a mystery to him.
The man gulped a mouthful. “What’s a buzz?”
“You know, the stuff.” Heat reddened Sebastian’s neck. “I’m here for a while and I need something to pass the time. What’s best for that?”
The man grabbed his arm and Sebastian tried not to cringe.
“Bong, Fungus, and Wingdings are the cheapest, but if you want something special, you can get Fuzz and Spit Boogies.”
Sebastian smiled and nodded sagely, while hoping he was talking about drugs.
“Can’t you get anything more special?”
The man shrugged. “We can get Spam if you can pay, but Fudge isn’t available now Mango’s been taken out.”
Sebastian shook his head sadly. “That’s a pity. I like Fudge.”
The man slopped more gruel on the bench, grinning madly.
“Don’t we all.”
Attempting to appear shifty, Sebastian rubbed his brow.
“Who do I go to?”
The man waved his spoon at him, splattering the paste onto Sebastian’s uniform.
“I can get you some, with payment up front, of course.”
“Tell me who to go to and I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Sebastian pushed his bowl of uneaten food toward the man for extra incentive. The man picked up Sebastian’s bowl, slopping the contents onto the bench.
“Go to Ginger Tom.”
Hoping that Ginger Tom wasn’t the name of another drug, Sebastian leaned forward.
“Where is he?”
“He’s over there.”
With his spoon, the man indicated a line of inmates near the food tables. Halfway along the queue, a ginger-haired man stood with folded arms and a straight back, his face lean and bony, his arrogant stance oozing confidence.
The queue advanced, but he didn’t move and neither did anyone push him. The man then took a long pace forward.
“Does he work for El Duce?”
“He hates him.”
Sebastian hazarded one final question. “Does Joshua ever work for him?”
The man’s head shook more than normal and Sebastian decided that was a denial. Then he smiled, reckoning that Ginger Tom was his new best friend.
WHEN THE BOLTS WERE thrown back for Association three days later, Sebastian strode from his cell and then around the balcony. After breakfast Ginger Tom had returned to a cell halfway around on his tier.
When Sebastian arrived four inmates flanked Tom’s cell. They eyed his approach and then casually spread out to block his way. All four inmates were of uniform, large size with hair razor-cut to a bristle.
Their bodies weren’t a combination of fat and muscle like those in Joshua’s gang, but pure muscle. One inmate with more extensive tattoos than normal stepped forward.
“This way is closed,” he said.
“I’d like to see Ginger Tom,” Sebastian said.
The tattooed man folded his arms. “Tom’s a busy man.”
“I’ve been given a message for him and it can’t wait.”
The tattooed man stuck out his bottom lip and nodded.
“All right, who’s it from?”
Sebastian puffed himself to his full height and tried to appear confident.
“El Duce.”
The tattooed man unfolded his arms and slipped into Tom’s cell. Sebastian tried not to let Tom’s other guards spook him with their blank expressions. Within a minute the man came out, bowed to Sebastian and held out a substantial arm to indicate that he could enter.
Sebastian strode into the cell. Inside, Tom was sitting on the floor against the far wall with a book in hand. The presence of a book in a place where the authorities banned possessions – rather than the fact that someone here read a book – was not lost on Sebastian.
“What’s the message?” Tom asked. His voice was deep and his tone direct.
Sebastian’s stomach churned. “I’m the message. I used to direct business to El Duce, but we parted company after a disagreement. Now I have a proposition for you and it’s one I know you’ll like.”
Tom put his book down, pushed himself to his feet and paced to the wall. He turned around, stroking his neck.
“I’ll decide whether I like the proposition.”
“You own the supply lines into the penal colony. Whatever people need you can get. Well, I’ll soon have access to a new product range and I want someone to help me with the importing.”
Tom raised ginger eyebrows. “You want my help?”
“What I want is known as tendering in my old line of work. Whoever supplies the best offer will get the contract. I believe you could be the man for the job.”
Tom’s mouth fell open and he rubbed his neck. Color rose on his cheeks.
“That’s so kind of you. Give me the details and I’ll consider making you an offer.”
“I’m offering Dats. My contact outside can get sports, news, entertainment, just about anything, but I need someone to bring them in.”
Tom blew out his breath in a long blast. “Felix, get in here.”
Sebastian turned around and the tattooed man filled the doorway.
“What’s wrong, boss?” Felix asked.
Tom waved at Sebastian. “Remove this joker, and take more care about who you let in.”
Felix strode forward and grabbed Sebastian’s shoulders.
“Wait,” Sebastian said. “This is the best offer you’ll ever get.”
Tom raised a hand. “Your business skills no longer entertain me, so you�
�ll get a kicking as well. I assume you’re new here, so for your information this place has an efficient electronic net. It’s easy to get Dats in, but the moment you slot a shard in your port the net will detect it.”
Tom waved and Felix dragged Sebastian away. Desperately, Sebastian dug in his heels, trying to still his progress. He failed, but at the door Felix transferred his grip to his other hand to pull him outside.
“I can beat the net,” Sebastian shouted. “That’s why I’m making such a great offer.”
Felix released his shoulder without receiving an obvious signal. Tom walked back and forth along the length of his cell and then advanced on him.
“How?”
Sebastian breathed deeply, hoping Tom knew less about electronics than he did.
“You need a special shard for your neck port. The device reads the Dats with minuscule, undetectable power levels before your port processes them. Then it creates a perfect, electronically opposite image of the interference. When you later use the Dats the device processes both patterns simultaneously and the two cancel each other out. You can’t detect the Dats are running, even inside the system.”
Tom’s quizzical frown made Sebastian hope that he hadn’t understood a word of that lie.
“So how does the shard compensate for the electronic disharmony the interference pattern would produce in the net’s equilibrium matrix?”
Sebastian bit his lip to avoid wincing. “I’m no technical expert, so don’t ask me. I’m just a salesman who got caught delivering one of these devices.”
Tom nodded. “How long before you can get a shard to test?”
“It’ll take time,” Sebastian said, smiling. “I can get messages out of here, but my contact works in the government on Endelland and can’t take too many chances.”
Travel to Endelland would take six months. Any farther away and Tom might not show an interest. Any closer and he would uncover the deception too quickly.
Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “So you want to work with me, then?”
Sebastian sighed. “I do, as long as you can guarantee my involvement in all stages of this new product line.”
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