by Caleb Fast
“Me too,” Wyndover and Phelix agree in unison.
“What if we got them some food?” Phelix offers after several moments.
“I don’t know how we could manage that,” Richardson responds, stopping that plan in its tracks.
Phelix nods slowly as she works on a new plan for several moments before voicing her backup plan, “How about—"
“Incoming!” Wyndover calls, cutting Phelix off as he and the others all drop to their knees and raise their guns. Streaming in from several of the side tunnels ahead of them are several dozen riotous inmates. The rebellious lot take note of Richardson and his team and begin charging toward them before Richardson gets a chance to call for help.
“Halt!” Richardson shouts to the mass as they stream down the hall toward him and his team. Phelix casts a concerned look back to him which made both of their fears evident –they may have to kill these people—if they didn’t stop.
“Fire a warning shot,” Richardson instructs Wyndover who promptly complies, letting off a few rounds which hit the ground ahead of the inmates, showering them with the grit the bullets kick up. The wave of prisoners surge ahead, unfazed.
“Fall back,” Richardson orders after a beat. He helps the other two to their feet before leading the way out of the tunnel with his weapon still trained on the crowd, who was drawing ever nearer.
“We gotta make a run for it if we’re gonna make it,” Wyndover says as he fires a few rounds at a support beam in an effort to slow down their pursuers. The beam gives way, and showers them with dust and small rubble, but fails to give them a useable head start.
“I need assistance in Tunnel 4-B West,” Richardson shouts into his comm unit as he flips a pile of crates into the middle of the tunnel. Richardson pauses a moment, hoping for a reply, and when nothing comes in, he shouts to his team, “Run!”
Phelix and Wyndover promptly spin on their heels and tear down the tunnel as fast as their legs can take them. Richardson waits just long enough to ensure that they had a fighting chance to make it out before taking off after his team, who were already out of sight. It wasn’t often that Richardson ordered retreats, but when he did, he always ensured his team was always able to outrun any pursuer. Countless days on the track back at their base and weeks in the wilderness everywhere they went, all in preparation for situations like this, where the only option was to run.
“Requesting medivac!” Phelix’s voice cries over Richardson’s comm as he rounds the corner he had lost sight of them at.
“Negative,” Jenniston’s cold voice snaps over the comm channel, “Get the job done and you’ll get your help.”
Richardson swears under his breath as he calls down the tunnel, hoping Phelix was within earshot, he calls out, “What happened?”
“Wyndover’s down,” Phelix calls back and Richardson sees her peek around a nearby corner and wave to get his attention, “He’s out cold,”
Richardson draws up alongside Phelix, and assesses Wyndover’s still form before speaking up, “His ankle’s broken. Did he fall and hit his head when it broke?”
“I think so, he was right behind me when I heard him go down… I’ll splint his ankle,” Phelix volunteers as she starts crafting a makeshift splint from everything she can find nearby.
“I’ll see if I can slow them down,” Richardson says as he spins around and begins barricading the passageway with every odd and end he can get his hands on. After stacking several crates, Richardson whispers a personal assurance to himself, which had essentially become his anthem since arriving on Paradise, “I’m not losing anyone in this hellhole…”
“There they are!” Richardson hears a bloodthirsty cry from the other side of his barricade. He looks up in time to see one of the inmates lining up a shot at him with a handgun he must have taken from a fallen guard.
“Incoming!” Richardson calls out to Phelix as he dives for cover. Several shots sound off and then some bullets ping off of his barrier and smack against the tunnel wall above him. Richardson returns fire, and smiles as the inmates all dive for cover, likely buying he and Phelix a few extra seconds to save Wyndover.
“And now they have a gun… great,” Phelix says sarcastically as she looks up from where she had taken cover from.
“Can we get him out?” Richardson demands in a hurried whisper as he quietly races back to Phelix, who is finishing up her last knot on Wyndover’s ankle splint.
“I don’t know how far you and I could carry him,” Phelix starts as she pulls Wyndover’s still unconscious form up into a sitting position. She shakes him by his shoulders as she continues, “Wake up, old man!”
“Come on!” Richardson hears a voice shout from the other side of his barricade. Moments later, he sees one of the crates at the top of the hastily erected pile being pushed free from its perch.
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Richardson reasons as he grabs Wyndover by one of his pack’s straps and hoists him over his shoulder as best he can. Richardson’s knees buckle under Wyndover weight, but this seemed to be his only viable option.
“I’ll try to buy us some time,” Phelix calls as she pulls her sidearm out of its holster and fires a few rounds at a weak support beam that is holding up the tunnel’s ceiling. It quickly gives way and she is rewarded with a shower of rubble that effectively buries Richardson’s wall. After a few beats, Phelix continues, “Looks like that’ll give us a solid head start,”
“Humph,” Richardson grunts in response as he staggers toward the tunnel’s exit, hoping beyond all hope that he would be able to carry Wyndover all the way to safety.
“Over here!” Richardson hears a familiar voice over the deafening sound of his thundering heartbeat as he struggles to forge ahead. Richardson feels a tug at his arm and he slowly looks over and takes in the sight of Phelix and Clive offering him a cart to put Wyndover onto. Relieved, Richardson lets Wyndover drop onto the cart like a sack of potatoes, which he instantly felt bad for, but knew that he didn’t have the strength to set the man down gently.
“Thank you,” Richardson calls out, likely a lot louder than need be as he takes the cart from Clive. Clive nods silently as he frantically looks around, likely expecting another inmate to spot him, and call him out as a traitor.
“I’m sorry about Wyndover,” Clive apologizes as he backs away from Richardson, he continues as he starts down a nearby tunnel, “I hope he’ll pull through!”
•••••••••••••••
“Why am I not surprised that you and your team made it through all this unscathed?” Jenniston asks in her ‘rhetorical question’ voice.
Richardson remains silent, knowing that Jenniston still had a lot more to say, and to interrupt with any comment, especially telling her that Wyndover did in fact get injured, was a bad call. After Clive had provided he and Phelix with his cart, Richardson made a b-line for the nearest lift, and got Wyndover to the med bay, where he still was. Fortunately, the prison’s doctor owed Richardson a few favors, so he managed to get Wyndover taken care of right away. The doctor told Richardson that Wyndover would be ready for action in the morning, thanks to some medical wonder that the doc had gone on and on about, and how Richardson now owed him a favor or two.
“Now I am down fifteen men thanks to you—” Major Triborn complains from his seat next to Richardson.
“Enough,” Jenniston warns from the other side of her desk. She silently stares at the Major and Captain as she massages the bridge of her nose for several moments before continuing, “Captains Copen and Koch don’t have enough soldiers as it is for the night shift, so you and your teams will have to make do until we get more manpower.”
“You’ll be the one picking up the slack,” Triborn seethes to Richardson as Jenniston checks a few messages on her Holo-Port. A new message had popped up every few seconds on her computer since Jenniston had called for the meeting.
“Richardson,” Jenniston starts as she flicks a few of the floating icons before her out of the a
ir. She slowly spins her chair to face Richardson and continues in a near whisper to ensure Triborn couldn’t hear what she was about to say, “One more slipup like this, and I’ll have you reassigned again. I need to see the model soldier you used to be coming back, or else. You got that?”
Richardson slowly nods, but keeps a blank expression, in an effort to ensure that Jenniston didn’t catch on how nervous her threat made him. After all, there were very few places for Richardson and his team to be reassigned from here, those he could think of were… unsavory to say the least. From what he had gathered over the years, his next assignment would either be on one of the worst of the front lines, or manning a death camp, or becoming a fill-in for a whole manner of missions that were known as ‘Suicide Runs’ by most of the Coalition soldiers.
“What about the prisoners?” Triborn demands once he sees that Jenniston is finished.
“Do what you will to those who were rioting,” Jenniston starts, as she looks thoughtfully at a ledger of all the inmates who had been caught in and around the riot. Thumbing through several of the pages, she continues with a cruel chuckle, “Tomorrow we will show those who are left what happens when there’s a riot as well.”
“Perfect,” Triborn says with a grin, which sends shivers down Richardson’s back. Whatever it was about killing that made Jenniston and Triborn so excited was something Richardson never wanted to know, or experience. All he knew was that he needed off the planet.
“And Triborn,” Jenniston starts as she pulls out another ledger, “We have a pickup in three days, at exactly twelve hundred hours. Keep an eye on the new hangar teams since the last teams had to be reassigned.”
“Can I search their quarters yet?” Triborn asks hopefully as he rubs a stub where one of his fingers should have been. He pauses a moment as his normal scowl returns to his face before continuing, “Just wait until I find whoever took my finger…”
“Not yet,” Jenniston says, clearly enjoying the fact that one of the inmates had the audacity to snatch Triborn’s robotic finger from right under his nose, “We can’t make a scene about it, or else more things will go missing. You know how those blasted srin fodder are.”
“Fine,” Triborn mutters as he tucks his hand with the missing finger back into his pocket, as if he were hiding the fact that he didn’t feel complete.
“And what is you plan for the rebellious lot?” Jenniston inquires of Triborn.
“I’ll exile most of them… maybe execute others halfway through the morning and night shift in front of everyone. Examples will be made.”
“Good… Have you considered burning some of them during morning mess?”
“Burning them?” Triborn asks, clearly taken by surprise by the idea. Richardson swallows a lump in his throat as he sees Triborn mulling through the idea.
“Yes,” Jenniston replies simply. She continues with a cruel grin and a chuckle, “It’ll be a great way to burn the idea into their minds.”
“Indeed,” Triborn agrees with a laugh, “I’ll be doing that.”
“Very well,” Jenniston says with a nod and smile, “Triborn, you’re dismissed,”
“What about Richardson?” Triborn asks as he stands.
Jenniston remains silent, and simply stares at Triborn blankly for several minutes before he slowly backs out of her office. Once the door slides shut after him, Jenniston looks over to Richardson and flatly says, “If I don’t see you in the thick of it next time this happens, you and your team are stuck down there on their own. I’ll pull Triborn and everyone else out of there. You’re on your own now, at least until you earn back my respect.”
“We were clearing the perimeter—” Richardson starts, anxious to save his team’s skin.
“And you avoided the fighting,” Jenniston finishes, cutting him off. She sighs before continuing, “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, either, but it will be you last. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Commander,” Richardson cedes as he bows his head in defeat.
“I expect a full report to be filed by the end of the day,”
“But I still need to—”
“By the end of the day, Captain.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dismissed,”
Richardson stands and quietly bows out of the Commander’s office, his tail between his legs. Stepping into the hallway, Richardson hears the door slide shut behind him before letting his shoulders slump. That could have gone better, Richardson thinks with a chuckle as he retreats to the nearest lift bank. As he rounds a corner, he is stopped by Phelix, who is leaning against the wall nearest the lifts.
“Was it really that bad?” Phelix asks as Richardson draws near.
“Yeah,” Richardson says with a sigh.
“Triborn looked like he got chewed out,” Phelix continues with a light-hearted laugh, trying to cheer Richardson up with the idea of Triborn getting a taste of his own medicine.
“Not as bad as I did,” Richardson mutters as he taps the button to call for a lift. He massages his temples for several moments before the lift arrives, trying to ease his nerves. Stepping into the lift after Phelix, Richardson continues, “Where are the others waiting?”
“They’re in the waiting room still,”
“And how’s Wyndover doing?”
“The doc says he’ll live,” Phelix answers with a chuckle. Seeing that Richardson isn’t too amused by the quip, she continues, “He’s doing good, your doctor says he’ll be up and back at it soon.”
“And everyone else is doing good?”
“Yes, they’re just shaken up a bit, with Wyndover and all.”
“That’s the closest thing to good news I’ve heard so far,”
“Triborn’s team isn’t holding up very well at all though,”
“Do they blame us for everything too?”
“No…” Phelix starts, slowly shaking her head. She looks at Richardson curiously before continuing, “So they’re pinning this all on you?”
“Yep,” Richardson answers shortly.
“I’m sorry,”
“That’s just part of working with Jenniston and Triborn,”
“Very true,”
“Should we start a countdown for when we finally get to retire?” Phelix asks with another chuckle, still trying to lift his spirits.
“That would just be depressing at this point,” Richardson says with a laugh, finally allowing himself to give in to Phelix’s efforts.
“Yeah, but it won’t be when we get to the last few weeks!”
“Ain’t that the truth,”
“So, what’s still on your mind?” Phelix asks as the lift doors glide open.
“I’ll tell you with the rest of the team,” Richardson says as he leads the way out of the lift and toward the med bay.
“Lovely,” Phelix says sarcastically from behind Richardson as she nearly jogs to keep up with him.
“That’s not the word I would use,” Richardson says forebodingly as he mulls through how he would break it to his team that Jenniston had threatened them, in an effort to get them to motivate them into risking their lives and morals to keep the status quo of the prison.
•••••••••••••••
Captain Richardson and his guards march into one of the many tunnels of the mines below the prison, this one in particular was known to be Clive’s tunnel. Although Clive wasn’t supposed to work any tunnel –since he was supposed to move the ore, rather than mine it—Richardson knew Clive was always passing through there.
Richardson and his team never liked the way Jenniston ordered them to kill prisoners. By and large, the inmates were all innocent of the crimes they were charged with, Richardson knew that, as did everyone on his team. That was one of the many reasons Richardson was looking forward to the end of his career with Jenniston and the Coalition as a whole. Soon enough, he would be able to wash his hands clean of the blood he had been forced to spill at the command of others.
“Thank you for t
he help today,” Richardson starts after waving off his team and making his way to Clive, who, as always, has his head down. Richardson respected Clive’s approach to staying off Jennison's radar, and Richardson did his best to keep his own head down as well and just wait things out. Leaning against the wall near Clive, Richardson continues, “I know how much you put on the line by helping us. And I’m sorry about your friends, I hope you know I had no say in the matter.”
Clive, who remains silent, studies Richardson for several moments, likely trying to figure out his intentions. Richardson and Clive had always had an understanding of sorts which allowed them to confide in each other for their mutual benefit, a benefit which usually simply entailed keeping the other alive. Eventually, Clive asks pointedly, “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to thank you, and apologize,” Richardson answers, confused by the sudden change in Clive’s attitude toward him. Generally, Clive was a lot friendlier, even after rough days like today.
“No, why are you here,” Clive motions around, “Why work at this prison? Why work with Jenniston?”
“Ah,” Richardson says, realizing Clive was feeling him out yet again. Why Clive was always feeling him out, he didn't know, but now he had to find out. That was always a weakness of Richardson’s, he couldn’t help but find things out if he caught the whiff of a secret. Several times, his relentless pursuit of finding the truth to secrets brought about trouble, but curiosity still manages to get the best of him from time to time.
“So?” Clive presses after a beat.
Richardson hesitates another moment before opening up to Clive, a man whom he had studied for several months before even speaking to, “I got in some trouble back when I served in the Coalition Space Corps. I wouldn’t kill innocents like how they ordered of me occasionally. And I couldn’t get out either, the Corps was what kept me afloat as I paid off several… ah- loan sharks. Plus, I also hadn’t completed my service time, so, they wouldn’t let me quit. They were desperate for troops back then.”
“You wish you followed orders now?”
“No, and I still won’t kill anyone who’s innocent. I didn’t want to kill your boys this morning either, Jenniston did. My hands are tied. If I disobey, I’ll be killed too. I hate this place, I wish there was another way...”
