by J McGovern
‘It was fraud,’ Doland said, grinning. He pointed to a bearded man standing at the food vendor. ‘I’ve just been talking to your friend Marc.’
‘He’s not my friend. I only told him what I did so he would leave me alone.’
‘Yeah, well … anyway, he told me about your little plan, you know, the one to steal five billion credits from Central.’
According to old, unverifiable documents, digital cryptography-based currencies had existed as early as eight thousand years ago, including the mythical Bitcoin. During the early years of the Imperium, many similar currencies had come into general use, such as the stupidly-named Coincoin, which used a proof-of-work mechanism to generate coins. The currency fell into disrepute when it was discovered that the processing power used to ‘mine’ the coins had been used to crack the security of several key Imperial computer systems. Around two thousand years ago, the Imperium had switched from using paper-based fiat currencies to a universal centralised cryptocurrency system, the ‘coin’ of which was known simply as the credit. Some people still used secret alternative currencies for illegal transactions and money laundering, but the only official currency was the credit, regulated by the Imperial Central Bank.
‘Five billion credits?’ Glitz said, impressed. That amount would be enough to buy a small island on the planet Eden.
Tekka nodded, but did not reply.
‘He’s a mathematical genius, so Marc says,’ Doland went on. ‘Graduated from Homeworld University, too.’
Glitz stared into Tekka’s cold eyes. Homeworld University? He was obviously no ordinary criminal. What made a man like him turn rogue? Why would someone with brains — and all the opportunities in life — turn to crime?
‘Can you two be trusted?’ Tekka said suddenly.
Doland looked up from his plate of curry, surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean exactly what I said. Can I trust you?’
‘Trust us for what?’
Tekka placed his fingertips together, and lowered his voice. ‘I assume that neither of you wants to go to Malus. We have all heard the stories. I for one am not at all keen on going. I believe I may have a viable escape plan, but I need to know whether I can trust you.’
Doland and Glitz glanced at each other, and nodded at Tekka.
‘Excellent,’ Tekka said. ‘Like Doland said, I have considerable expertise when it comes to —’
‘Hang on,’ Doland said. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘I made a point of memorising the flight manifest,’ Tekka said, pulling out a folded piece of paper. It was a print-out of all of the convicts’ names, along with thumbnail snapshots of their faces.
‘A manifest?’ Glitz said. ‘Where the hell did you get that?’
Tekka smiled coldly. ‘All of the vidscreens on the floor are connected to computers. Of course, all of their functions are locked down except video playback. But I asked the computer very nicely.’
‘So what’s your plan?’ Glitz said quietly.
Chapter Two
Tekka glanced around to make sure they were not being overheard. Then he began to explain his plan in a quiet voice. When he had finished, both Doland and Glitz were a little in awe of the man. Doland was right. He was a genius. But Glitz found one element of the plan troubling.
‘Not this ship.’
‘What?’ Tekka said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
‘Not this ship. The Commander has been good to us. It wouldn’t be right to do it to him.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Doland said. ‘We’re being taken to the worst planet in the galaxy. We’re going to be slaves for five years. This isn’t the time for caring about other people.’
Glitz wouldn’t be persuaded. He turned to Tekka. ‘Look, there’s no reason why your plan couldn’t work with another ship, right? When will the next prison ship arrive on Malus?’
‘In about a month, I expect.’
‘A month!’ Doland said. ‘You want us to be stuck on Malus for a month?’
‘It’s better than five years,’ Glitz replied.
Tekka paused, stroking his left palm with the fingertips of his right hand. ‘If the plan is to work, it requires three people. If Glitz is determined not to harm the commander of this ship, it seems we have no choice but to make planetfall and wait for the next ship.’
Doland grimaced, but he knew that Tekka was right. Without all three of them, the plan would be much more likely to fail. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’m in.’
‘Why us?’ Glitz said. ‘I mean, your plan needs three people, but why choose me and Doland?’
‘Truthfully, there is no particular reason. I need two people to help me escape. I don’t care who those two people are. You were the two people that happened to sit down next to me.’
Glitz nodded slowly. In that case, he was very glad that he had chosen to sit with Tekka. The rest of the journey to Malus went by quite uneventfully. A few prisoners became restless and started to fight, but these confrontations were quickly broken apart by the other convicts. Nobody wanted to have stricter measures imposed upon them. They ate five more meals in the canteen, and slept twice in the prisoners’ quarters. The guards only appeared occasionally to check that everything was running smoothly, and no one even saw the Commander again until they finally reached the planet. Around forty-eight hours into the flight, he appeared on the floor with a small group of guards.
‘We’ll be arriving on Malus shortly, gentlemen,’ Commander Rica said. ‘Thank you for conducting yourselves so graciously, and I hope that your stay on Malus won’t be overly unpleasant.’ He knew there wasn’t much hope of that. The Commander was a man of dangerous tastes, and there were many illegal pleasures that he denied himself, purely so that he would never end up on Malus.
‘It’s been nice,’ Glitz said loudly. ‘I’ll fly with you again some time.’
The prisoners all laughed, and the Commander smiled and left the floor. Glitz had, of course, been joking, but the journey had actually given him a deep respect for the man. So many weak-minded people tried to gain respect through violence and anger. It was refreshing to see someone who expressed their authority in a reasonable way.
The ship touched down on the planet Malus.
Harka, the spotty guard, smiled nastily at Glitz as the ship’s main door slid open. The guards escorted the prisoners off the ship, where they were taken into custody by another lot of guards. They were wearing their handcuffs again, which they had been made to reattach before the ship’s landing.
Glitz glanced up at the sky. It was permanently dark on Malus, because it was a planet on the edge of the Talos system. The light from the central sun barely reached Malus; it was only warm enough to sustain life because of thermoactive rocks close to the planet’s surface. Volcanoes were one of the main causes of death on Malus, next to overwork. The Imperium was notoriously tough on all prisoners — again, unless they were from the aristocracy — holding the view that the worse the prison, the stronger the deterrent. Glitz didn’t think that prisoners should get off without punishment, but five years of hard labour seemed a little extreme for his crime.
The guards began to lead them towards the main prison site, which was where the convicts would be sleeping and eating for the duration of their sentences.
‘You didn’t tell me what you did,’ Doland said, who was standing behind Glitz.
‘Smuggling.’ Glitz frowned at the imposing volcanoes. He could swear that some of them were spewing black smoke. ‘I was in charge of a freighter for the East Galaxy Company, but the pay was bad. I boosted my salary by smuggling weapons in a secret compartment inside the ship.’
Doland looked impressed. ‘Yeah? How’d you get caught?’
‘Just a routine inspection, or so I thought.’ Glitz grinned. Although he hated the fact that he had been caught, he couldn’t deny that it made a good story. ‘I was carrying an official load of turmeric and moonspice, as well as a few kilos of black market tobacco that I picked up fr
om a guy on Zita-4. I was taking the leaf to Paradise to sell. When I was boarded by Imperial troops, I figured it was nothing to worry about. I’d been boarded before, but they hadn’t found anything. But it turns out the leaf wasn’t just duty-free — it was stolen. Even worse, the stupid bastard had robbed an Interstellar Courier to get it.’
‘So they found the stuff?’
Glitz nodded. ‘They went all out. Practically took the ship apart. I got five years, but the other guy was executed.’
Doland breathed out slowly. ‘You were lucky then, in a way.’
‘Lucky?’ Glitz poked his finger into Doland’s chest. ‘I’m stuck on a prison planet for five years with nobody for company but you and that guy —’ Glitz pointed to Tekka, who was standing nearby. ‘— and he doesn’t even like me.’
‘Don’t be too heartbroken,’ Tekka said. ‘I don’t like anyone.’
‘Yeah, well …’ Doland lowered his voice. ‘We still have our plan …’
Glitz glanced around at the forbidding planet, at the rocks and strange-looking birds wheeling through the sky. Now that he was actually there, Tekka’s plan didn’t seem quite so likely. He knew that no one had ever escaped from Malus before.
The prisoners walked, handcuffed, towards the main prison, with uniformed guards marching in front of and behind them. The air was filled with noxious smoke, and the ground was covered in black dust — the prisoners’ feet kicked up dirt clouds that blackened their convict uniforms.
Eventually, they reached the main prison. It was a large silver dome that was composed of triangular shapes arranged in a tessellated pattern. Glitz entered with the other prisoners, flanked by Doland and Tekka. He wanted to make sure that he stayed close to Tekka over the next few weeks; the man was his only chance of getting off the stinking rock.
‘My name is Mr. Quex,’ a bald man said, stepping in front of the prisoners. He was carrying a large black staff with a tapered handle. Although it was black, it looked suspiciously like a shocker. ‘I’m the officer in charge of this prison. Let me be very clear. I don’t tolerate bad behaviour. If any one of you jokers steps out of line, they’ll be treated with the greatest serevity.’
‘You mean ‘severity’, right?’ one of the prisoners said. He was a thin man with a permanent grin.
The officer’s face reddened, and he stepped over to the man, his pig-like eyes bulging from his head. ‘Silence!’ he said.
‘That’s better,’ the prisoner said. ‘Maybe you should just stick to two-syllable words in future.’
The prisoners laughed, and Mr. Quex looked like he was about to explode. He touched the man with the end of his staff, who felt an excruciating pain surge through his limbs. The prisoner cried out in agony, and Mr. Quex withdrew the staff. The pain ceased.
‘Let that be a lesson to you all,’ Mr. Quex said. ‘Like I said, I don’t tolerate insol … insolence.’
All of the prisoners were weary and ill-tempered; they had last slept nearly twelve hours ago, and they were all ready to go to bed.
‘You will be sent to your cells in alphabetical order,’ the prison officer said. ‘As soon as I read your name, two of the prison guards will escort you to your cell.’ He brought up a list on his tablet. ‘Alph, Tonek.’
Tonek Alph, a tough-looking man virtually covered in tattoos, stepped forward. Two even tougher-looking prison guards escorted him out towards his cell.
‘Bane, Rog.’
Rog Bane was next to be taken to his cell, followed by Bergson, Cap, Christoph, Doland, Edgewood, Fhali and Haaj.
‘Glitz, Harlan.’
Glitz strolled forwards and peered at the two guards. ‘You sure these guys know where they’re going?’
Mr. Quex showed his teeth. ‘Follow!’
Grinning, Glitz followed the guards; they led him through the prison, opened a metal sliding door using a wall panel, and pushed him into his cell. The room was tiny and grey. It had no windows, and no furniture except a bed. And a toilet, if that counts as furniture. At least it was clean. The whole room smelled comfortingly sterile, like a hospital room. The room was cramped and unpleasant, and would certainly be a nightmare come true for anyone suffering from claustrophobia. But at least it was safe. You didn’t have to spend every night looking behind your back. Glitz knocked on the metal cell wall, and someone knocked back. The sound was very muffled.
‘Attention all prisoners.’ Glitz frowned. The tinny, metallic voice was coming from a hidden speaker somewhere in the cell. ‘The time is 6:48. Work will begin in twelve minutes. Please make sure you are dressed in your work clothes. New convicts will find their work suits beneath their beds.’
‘For the love of space!’ Glitz shouted. ‘I haven’t slept for twelve hours!’
The message began to repeat again. ‘Attention all prisoners. The time is 6:49 …’
Scowling, Glitz reached under his hard bed and felt around for his work suit. His fingers brushed against a clear plasthyne bag, and he pulled it out. Inside there was an orange bodysuit that was made of some sort of tough artificial material, probably PalTex. He stripped to his underwear and stowed his prison uniform under the bed, struggling into the orange suit. The material was rough and scratchy, like tarpaulin, against his skin, and his shoulders and neck began to ache.
‘Work will begin in eight minutes.’
Glitz sat on his bed and waited. He didn’t know how the whole thing worked. Obviously, there was no way out of his cell, so all he could do was sit and wait. He wouldn’t have got dressed at all in protest, but he didn’t want to be taken outside wearing non-protective clothing.
‘Work will begin in four minutes.’
He sat and waited, wondering vaguely what kind of work the prisoners were made to do. Of course, he had heard several different stories from the other convicts while on the ship. Some said they would be forced to dig holes in the rock, while others claimed that the prisoners had to dive into the volcanoes using special equipment, looking for precious stones in the lava. On balance, Glitz felt that the first story was more plausible.
The cell door slid open again, and a voice ordered him to leave the cell. He was taken with a dozen other prisoners towards a guarded prison exit, and they stepped back out onto the dark planet. Glitz and the other prisoners were led by prison guards in one direction, and he noticed other small groups being led in other directions. Presumably, different prisoners were assigned different jobs. With irritation, Glitz realised that the arrangement might make it more difficult for him talk confidentially to Doland and Tekka.
The prisoners were led into a small all-terrain wagon, and were thrown around roughly as they were sped to their destination, which they reached in just over five minutes. Glitz glanced down at the quarry as they stepped off the truck. It was a pit surrounded on all sides by volcanic mountains. The soil was like black ash, and the hole was filled with huge boulders. The men were all carrying large pickaxes and sledgehammers. A man got off a second wagon which had followed the first. He was wearing a grey suit and brown boots. It was Mr. Quex, the prison officer.
‘Good morning, Work Group Eight,’ Mr. Quex said. ‘You may be aware that you have a new member.’ He pointed at Glitz. ‘Harlan Glitz.’
Glitz grinned at the prisoners, but the other members of the work camp glowered at him. He had a distinct feeling that he wouldn’t be getting along very well with his new ‘colleagues’. He also felt a great sense of disappointment. He had assumed that he would be working alongside Tekka and Doland.
‘Sir,’ Glitz said. ‘Will I always be in the same Work Group?’
Mr. Quex nodded. ‘In future, you will only speak when spoken to, but yes. You will be working with these twelve men for the duration of your sentence. You will also eat with them in your own section of the refectory.’
Glitz cursed inwardly. So it seemed he wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to Tekka and Doland again. In that case, the chance of implementing their plan successfully seemed small. In fact, what was to stop T
ekka and Doland simply finding a new third member for their group? Tekka had said himself that he didn’t care which two people escaped alongside him.
‘Sir,’ Glitz said again.
‘If you want to speak to me, put your hand up,’ Mr. Quex said.
Glitz frowned at the man’s pettiness, and raised his hand.
‘Yes, Glitz?’
‘What sort of work is it we do here?’ he asked.
Mr. Quex turned to the largest member of the group, who had a bald head and a tattoo of a bald eagle across his forehead. ‘Pieterson’s in charge here.’ He nodded to the man. ‘Why don’t you tell Glitz all about your work? I might be checking up on you later.’
The prison officer got back into the second wagon and it drove away, leaving a cloud of dark dust. The first truck, which was carrying the prison guards, followed it. When he had followed the other prisoners as they scrambled down into the quarry, Glitz turned to Pieterson and saluted, half-sarcastically.
