by J McGovern
‘I’m Piet,’ the man said. ‘And you obey me without question.’
Glitz nodded with mock solemnity. ‘So what kind of work do we do, Piet?’
‘We break rocks,’ Piet said simply.
To provide a demonstration, he raised his tool and swung it from above his shoulder, smashing it into the boulder. A tiny crack appeared in the centre of the rock. Piet swung his pickaxe again, hitting the rock in the same place. The crack became slightly larger. Glitz watched the mundane exercise, and then raised an eyebrow.
‘So that’s it?’
One of the other men laughed. ‘That’s it, brother.’
‘But what’s the point of it?’ Glitz persisted. ‘We break rocks, right, but what for? What does it accomplish?’
‘Look,’ Piet said. ‘There don’t need to be a point. We break rocks.’
‘Right,’ Glitz said, looking up at the blackened sky. ‘That sounds fair.’
The men began to drift apart. The quarry was about the size of a gravity-ball stadium, and they spread out across it. Glitz grabbed one of the pickaxes and approached one of the smaller boulders. He swung his pickaxe into the rock, and felt a vibration from the rock jolt his arm.
Annoyed, Glitz inspected the surface of the stone. He hadn’t even made the tiniest mark on the surface. He raised the pickaxe again and smashed it into the rock. This time, a tiny fracture appeared. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Glitz exhaled loudly.
‘What are these things made of?’ he muttered.
‘Hey, no slacking! Get back to work!’ Piet shouted.
Sighing, Glitz swung the tool into the rock again …
Chapter Three
The rest of the day passed in the same way. It took him almost an hour to finally break apart the first boulder, and he wasn’t allowed even a small break before he moved on to the next. It was exhausting work, made even more tiring because he was in desperate need of sleep. Also, he was convinced of the futility of the job. Why were they breaking rocks? It didn’t make any sense. If the prison officer was so intent on making the prisoners work, why not make them do something useful that could actually raise revenue for the prison? Glitz was thankful, however, that they had free access to water. There was a pump in the quarry, which provided an unlimited supply of hydration. True, the liquid that spouted from it tasted vaguely of metal, but it was very satisfying after a few hours of rock smashing. The work day was ten hours long with only a couple of water breaks, and by 17:00 Glitz felt like he was going to collapse from hunger and overwork.
‘Is every day like this?’ Glitz muttered to one of the prisoners, after they had started putting away their pickaxes.
‘We work seven out of eight days in a week,’ the man said, who had watery blue eyes and a crooked nose. ‘Usual schedule is breakfast at 6:00, followed by work at 7:00. Each work day is ten hours, followed by another meal hour, and then a ten hour rest period. Obviously, transport time eats into our leisure hours, rather than work hours. On the ninth day every week we have a shower, followed by a day of rest in our cells.’
Glitz nodded. It seemed the planet Malus had a nine-day week. And each day was twenty-two hours long. Of course, few planets colonised by the human race had the same orbit and rotation as Homeworld. However, many planets tried to adjust their time zones to ensure compatibility with Galactic Standard Time. It was a good idea in theory, but it practice it caused many problems. For example, the planet Velatia, despite making a full rotation every twelve hours, still followed G.S.T. Thus, the planet would go dark in the middle of every day, and the first half of every night would be bright. The humans were constantly searching for a ‘perfect world’ — or trying to engineer one — but all of the current colonised worlds had some kind of fault or deficiency. Several even had different oxygen or gravity levels, which could be very surprising for tourists. A particularly undernourished visitor to Phoros B might find himself floating off into the air like a children’s hydrogen pod.
When their wagon arrived, the men stowed away their pickaxes in a small cave cut into the side of the quarry. They were driven back to the prison compound, and led into the refectory. Glitz noticed that there were dozens of doors leading into the cafeteria, which seemed odd. They entered; it was a plain looking room with no windows. Then again, any windows in Malus would only look out onto the unpleasant volcanic landscape, so Glitz was quite glad that there weren’t any. The tables were made of cheap plasthyne and coated with a waterproof vinyl cover. With dismay, Glitz realised that the canteen was demarcated by translucent plasthyne sheets. That was the idea of the separate doors, then. The section for Work Group Eight was totally separated from the rest of the refectory.
‘Can’t we talk to the other prisoners?’ Glitz said.
Piet snorted, and replied, ‘Course not.’
That explains everything, thanks, Glitz thought. It’s all so clear to me now. Later, Glitz learned that their refectory was only one out of about two-dozen across the prison site, and that each Work Group was kept in a separate compartment in every cafeteria. The policy was intended to prevent large groups of prisoners from planning a rebellion.
A small hatch built into the dividing wall opened, and a large pot was pushed through, along with thirteen tin plates and thirteen tin spoons. Piet took the pot and carried it to the table, and one of the other men — Glitz thought his name might be Raal — put down a plate and spoon in front of each table seat. The men all sat down, and Glitz joined them. The pot was pushed politely from person to person. He watched, astonished, as each man poured himself exactly the same amount of the pale goo, said ‘thank you’, and pushed the pot along to the person next to him. Piet certainly did keep a well-behaved Work Group. When it was Glitz’s turn, he scooped out some of the mixture and dropped it into his bowl. It didn’t have any noticeable odour, and it had the consistency of thick porridge. None of the men started to eat; they were waiting for everyone to take their helping.
Finally, the pot reached Piet, and he scooped out the rest of the food into his bowl. There were barely more than two spoonfuls left for him. Glitz couldn’t help but be impressed by the man’s humility. As leader of the Work Group, he would surely be entitled to a larger helping than anyone else. Who would dare to challenge him if he did so? But Piet obviously thought so highly of his men that he was prepared to be served last, at the risk of ending up with a smaller portion.
‘Look,’ Glitz said, moving the meal around with his metal spoon. ‘I’m not really hungry. Think I picked up an infection on the ship. Why don’t you eat this?’
Glitz pushed his bowl across the table towards Piet. The table fell silent, and Glitz wondered for a second if he had done something wrong. But Piet simply smiled, nodded, and began to eat. It had been a lie, of course. Glitz was starving. But he had felt sorry for Piet. Also, it couldn’t hurt to get on the good side of their leader.
He still hadn’t quite given up on the idea of escaping from Malus, even if it seemed unlikely that his plan with Tekka and Doland would go ahead. But if the worst came to the worst, and he really was stuck on Malus for five years, he wanted to make it as easy on himself as possible.
After everyone except Glitz had eaten, they were escorted back into their cells. He had no way of telling the time, but he assumed that it was 18:00. That gave him ten hours to sleep before breakfast the next morning. Glitz took off his work clothes and changed into his normal prison clothes, before climbing into bed. The sheets were made of polycotton, and the mattress wasn’t as uncomfortable as he had expected. Glitz banged on the metal wall, and someone banged back. Glitz laughed and banged again, trying to irritate whoever was in the next cell. But the other man didn’t knock again. He felt his eyes begin to close and he lay back. In a few seconds he was asleep.
The next few weeks passed in much the same way, and each day the work outside seemed a little easier. He still thought it was pointless labour, but he tried not to complain too much. Their group leader, although not very bright, was a dece
nt man. As soon as he realised that Glitz was prepared to work hard without supervision he began to treat him a little more kindly.
They were served the same food at breakfast and dinner each day. The prisoners called it ‘manna’, a sarcastic reference to the miraculous food the god of Proteism had supposedly provided for the planet Israel during a time of famine. It tasted a little like marchgrain porridge — that is to say, it tasted like nothing at all. There was no flavour, no seasoning. But apparently it was artificially constituted to contain all of the essential nutrients, and it seemed to keep all the men in good health.
One evening, after a particularly hard day, Glitz collapsed onto his bed while still wearing his work clothes, not caring that he was covering his sheets in rock dust. He was drifting off to sleep when a voice suddenly made his eyes snap open.
‘Harlan Glitz. Harlan Glitz. Can you hear me, Harlan Glitz?’
Glitz jumped out of bed. I recognize that voice! ‘Tekka?’ he said, hardly able to believe it. ‘Is that you?’
‘It’s me,’ Tekka said coldly, and added, insincerely, ‘I hope you are well.’
‘Could be worse,’ Glitz replied. ‘How are you speaking to me?’
‘I have hacked into the main communications server. The software allows me to speak to the occupant of any cell. I have already spoken to Doland.’
‘So what do you want?’
Tekka sighed. ‘You know perfectly well what I want. Do you not remember our escape plan?’
Glitz grinned. ‘Yeah, I remember. So it’s still on?’
‘Of course it’s still on,’ came Tekka’s tinny voice. ‘The next prison ship will be arriving on the planet in two days. I think it would be advantageous to go over every point of the plan.’
‘Fine,’ Glitz said.
Tekka began to go over the plan with Glitz, reminding him of the key points. Glitz listened carefully to the man.
‘But how are you going to get us out?’ Glitz said.
The plan seemed to depend on the three men somehow escaping from their cells. But that didn’t seem very likely. The only way to break free from a cell was to operate the door mechanism, which could only be operated from outside the cell.
‘You leave that to me,’ Tekka said. ‘I will take care of everything. Just make sure that you are ready at 6:00 sharp the day after tomorrow.’
‘I will be,’ Glitz said.
Now that he had heard Tekka’s plan again, he found his confidence in the man renewed. Glitz still didn’t know how Tekka planned to break them out of their cells, but somehow he believed that he would manage it.
‘One thing, before you go,’ Glitz said.
‘Yes?’
‘Why didn’t you just choose two different people? I mean, why stick with me and Doland, even though we aren’t in your Work Group?’
‘I always keep my word unless I have a strong reason for doing otherwise,’ Tekka said simply. ‘In any case, it would have been illogical to choose anyone else. You two already know the plan, and the comms system is the only safe way to communicate anyway.’
‘All right,’ Glitz said. ‘See you in two days.’
Glitz took off his work clothes, put on his prison suit, and brushed the dust from his bed. He began to wonder if he had simply imagined Tekka’s voice. Maybe the hard daily labour was screwing with his brain. But the prospect of possible escape made him feel very excited. The next morning, Glitz had an extra spring in his step when he was taken down to the refectory for breakfast. The other prisoners noticed that he seemed to be in a good mood.
‘You’re happy,’ Tonek said, stroking his goatee.
‘I am,’ Glitz said, helping himself to a portion of manna. ‘I’m getting the hell out of here tomorrow.’
‘No way,’ Roper said. ‘How do you plan to do that?’
Glitz tapped his nose mysteriously. ‘Wait and see. The last time you’ll ever see me is at dinner this evening.’
He knew he shouldn’t be telling the rest of the Work Group about his imminent escape attempt, but he couldn’t resist showing off a little bit. Anyway, all of the prisoners and guards believed escape to be impossible, so they would simply think his comments to be the idle boasts of a very bored man. Glitz glanced at Pieterson; the man looked slightly uncomfortable. He was stirring his manna with a strange look on his face. Glitz frowned and ate the rest of the meal.
When the group was driven to the quarry, Glitz picked up a pickaxe enthusiastically. The prospect of leaving Malus so soon had put the work into a whole different perspective, and he put a great deal of energy into his morning labour. He had developed a method that he found to be very effective for breaking the rocks. First he would create a small crack in the stone using the pickaxe. Then he would hit the rock with the sledgehammer, which had the effect of using the weakness created by the crack to split open the rock. Once the rock had split into several pieces, he would then use the sledgehammer to crush the fragments into pebbles.
When the men had stopped for a water break, Piet beckoned Glitz over. Glitz put down his sledgehammer.
‘What’s up?’
Piet spoke in a low voice. ‘You said you were leavin’.’
Glitz sighed. He should have known better than to boast about his plans. ‘Just a joke,’ he replied.
‘Then why’re you so cheerful today?’
He shrugged. ‘Just a nice day. Fresh air. The sun’s out. Well, the sun’s not out, but …’
‘You think I’m an idiot?’ Piet said. He sounded more upset than threatening.
‘No,’ Glitz said, shaking his head.
‘Well,’ Piet said. ‘If you’re gonna leave, I ain’t gonna stop you. And I won’t tell nobody about your plan. I won’t tell Quex or the guards. But I don’t want anythin’ to do with it. And don’t go dragging none of my men into it, neither. Promise me.’
‘I promise,’ Glitz said. That was one promise he could definitely keep. Even if he had wanted to help anyone else escape, he doubted Tekka would want to proceed with the plan if there were any unknown elements involved.
‘Fine,’ Piet said. ‘Now get a drink and get back to work.’
Glitz began to walk towards the water pump, but then he turned back. ‘Thanks, Piet.’
‘What for?’
‘For not informing.’
Piet simply nodded, and Glitz went to the pump to take a drink of water. The jet of cool liquid from the pump moistened his cracked mouth, and he gratefully drank several gulps before returning to work.
When their shift had finished, and the men had eaten their dinner, Glitz smiled at them all. ‘It’s been fun,’ he said. ‘Nice knowing you all.’
Roper scoffed. ‘You’ll be here tomorrow just like the rest of us.’
‘Maybe,’ Glitz admitted, nodding. ‘But I damn well hope not.’
The men were taken back into their cells, but Glitz was too excited to sleep. He had resolved to stay awake anyway. Tekka was planning to send an wake-up alarm signal to his room at 5:30, but he wasn’t going to risk it. He would stay awake all night to be ready to leave at 6:00 sharp. He still didn’t know how Tekka planned to let the three of them out of their cells; he was trapped as well. But Glitz could do nothing but wait, and hope Tekka was as clever as he claimed. The night passed slowly, and Glitz couldn’t relax. He had no way of finding out the time, and as the night dragged on, he worried that it was past 6:00, and that Tekka hadn’t managed to do as he’d promised.
But suddenly a tinny ringing sound filled his cell. It sounded insanely loud after the deathly quiet of the last few hours. He hoped that none of the guards would hear the noise, and he took a little comfort in knowing just how thick the cell walls were.
‘Harlan Glitz, can you hear me?’ came Tekka’s voice.
‘Am I glad to hear your voice.’
‘So you can hear me. Good.’ Tekka’s voice had its usual cold quality, but there was a nervous edge to it that Glitz hadn’t heard before. ‘Please ensure you are wearing your normal pr
ison clothes. Prepare for release in exactly thirty minutes. It would be beneficial for you to go over the main points of the plan in your mind to refresh your memory.’
Glitz was already wearing his prison clothes, so he did not get up. He would usually object to being ordered around, but when his freedom was at stake he was more willing to take commands. He ran through Tekka’s plan in his mind. The whole thing was actually quite simple — at least, his and Doland’s roles were simple. Tekka had all the complicated work.
He sat in his cell, waiting for another message from Tekka. But none came. Glitz began to feel slightly worried. Maybe Tekka had decided that the plan was a bad idea. Or perhaps the prison ship wasn’t due to arrive at 6:30 after all …
