Harrim reached out to a wall display and gestured before it. Each of their faces appeared with information beside it. “Here’s your assignments.”
Mencari scanned over the names and positions. He and Narrik were on patrol duty, Dane was assigned to processing, and both Nikko and Kiyanna would manage the main guard station. Each of them would be in a good position to further their mission and find Tal.
“Take an hour to rest in your quarters, then orient yourselves to your assignments,” Harrim said flatly. “Starting now.”
* * * * * *
“And we do this route twice a cycle?” Mencari looked past Narrik at the two guards leading down the dim corridor.
“Same route, no deviations,” the first guard said. “It’s one of the safer gigs.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your distance from the inmates,” the second guard added. “And one other thing, always keep your gear on—helmet included. Make it harder for them to tell who’s who, because they’re always watching, trying to figure us out. They’ll go after the weak ones first—inmates and guards alike.”
“Place reminds me of the sewers back on Keros,” Narrik said, looking around the metal tubes of the dim maintenance tunnels. “Just less of a stench … and nothing running down the middle.”
“Wouldn’t it be more secure if it was better lit here?” Mencari asked.
“Thinkin’s above our paygrade,” the first guard said.
“Well, he’s right,” the second said to the first. “Even if these are more for maintenance.”
Enraged screams echoed from ahead causing Mencari to tap his hand, attempting to arm the hand phaser he left behind at New Eden. The guards continued on, unfazed. “Can you hear that?” Mencari asked.
“Of course,” the first guard said.
“Shouldn’t we investigate it?” Mencari said, further dumbfounded.
The second guard snickered. “Relax, it’s nothing.”
The cries grew louder with each step, as if they were drawing near to the source. “Nothing?” Mencari asked.
“It’s coming out of there,” Narrik said, motioning to a darkened enclave in the wall.
Amused, the first guard said, “It’s from an indoctrination chamber.”
It sounded far worse than mere interrogation. “Why can we hear that out here?”
“Who cares? Maybe the screams will reach the others, serve as a lesson. Cooperate and everything here is much less … painful,” the second guard said, his tone wicked.
The thought of the defunct lift crossed his mind. There had to be a way to work it into conversation. “From the maps, it looks like much of this place isn’t patrolled. Are entire sections really left unattended?”
“There are places you don’t wanna to go. Not safe,” the first guard said.
“From inmates?”
“No man, from cave-ins. Not every area in this facility was built so well. Similar things have happened in all the undergrounds. One cave-in took out the way to the original lift to the surface. That’s what made them install the current one,” the second guard said. “Guess it wasn’t worth it to get the old one fixed.”
Not accessible? That would put a wrinkle in Kiyanna’s plan.
“Just stick to the route, and you’ll be fine,” the first said.
From the darkness a hoarse voice croaked, “Take their advice with a grain of salt. It could get you killed.”
The second guard groaned as the first growled, “Old man, where you at?”
Is there a prisoner free? Mencari took a defensive posture.
Just beyond the sputtering edge of their lights, a dark outline sat against the rocky ground. With each step closer, the features of the bizarre-looking alien were revealed. Ridged horns poked through a long scraggly drape of white hair. Thick wrinkles and speckled skin surrounded two broken tusks pierced through a wild beard that covered his knees. Mencari could smell the rank of the man’s filth-stained jumper. The man looked directly at him, ragged and rotten teeth the crowning jewels of his twisted smile.
“Get back to your cell,” the first guard barked.
“Oh, getting all scary on me now,” the old man said with a laugh. “Or you’ll do what exactly?”
“Make you,” the first rebuked.
“Make me?” he said, amused. As if by instinct the second guard fell back, stepping away from the first guard. The old man cackled. “Seems your buddy has the right idea. We both know you don’t want to do that—now do you?” There was a fierce confidence in his tone, an unnerving one.
“Just … don’t get in our way,” the guard said, his tone wavering.
What could this old man possibly do to harm anyone? The warden’s advice echoed in his mind. They didn’t rob a bank, or take candy from a baby. They’re cunning and deadly, and will kill you without a second thought. Am I clear?
Maybe the old man was fiercer in his younger days? But that wouldn’t explain why the guard backed off now. Perhaps he was some type of boss down here?
“Aw, you got allota kick today,” the man said. “Maybe you’re showing off for these fine gentlemen? Showing what a big stud you are? Threatening old men … I’m sure they’re impressed.” He cackled.
“Just leave Longtime alone,” the second guard said to the first.
“See, now there’s a man with some intelligence. I always did like you better.” He turned to Narrik and Mencari. “I hope the two of you have more common sense than these oafs. At least you’re off to a good start. Let me introduce myself. They call me Longtime, because I’ve been here a lawng-tie-um,” he said with another cackle that ended in a coughing fit.
“This is guard three, and four,” the first said, his tone defiant.
Longtime laughed. “Still think we can’t tell who’s who. We’ll just make up our own names for you anyway. Like you? Yours is Duddly DoLittle, because you never seem to be doing much of anything.”
The second guard snickered before clearing his throat.
“Allow me to extend a proverbial olive branch to you,” Longtime said. “A gift, if you will. In two days’ time things are going to get aw-fully interesting down here … we’re going to have ourselves a nice riot.”
“A riot?” Mencari asked.
“That’s nothing new. It happens with each guard change,” the first guard said.
“I don’t recall saying the information was for you. It’s for these two new fine gentlemen.”
“And what do you want for the information?” Narrik asked, wary.
“Ah, there’s a man that knows how the game is played!” Longtime laughed until he choked and sputtered. “Nothing right now, my boy. Nothing right now.”
“We need to continue our patrol and check in with the guard post too,” the second guard said.
“Well, you boys best be off then. Stay out of those dark corners now.”
Mencari looked over his shoulder as they continued on. The old man didn’t seem to be the backstabbing type, but those tusks got broken somehow, and nothing felt safe at the moment. When they got far enough away he asked, “So we don’t need to report the prisoner?”
“Longtime? There’s nothing new to report about him,” the second guard said. “Despite his many talents, the worst thing he can do is wander around. The redundant lock systems keep him out of the guard area, and out of the lifts up-top.”
“What about the riot?” Narrik asked.
“Like we said, it happens every time new guards swap in,” the first one said. “It’s the inmates’ way of saying hello—and testing you out. Be ready for it, and keep your wits. Make sure you show them you’re not scared.”
“You mean like how you screamed like a child and hid?” the second said.
“Hey, I learned. I’m just passing down some advice.”
“Is Longtime someone to be concerned about? Both of you seemed pretty uncomfortable with him,” Narrik said.
The first guard gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll tell you, though
it’ll do no good to protect you. Bad things happen to those that cross Longtime. No causes are ever found, no perps ever identified. We don’t know if he does things himself, or has others do his work, but that’s one guy you don’t piss off.”
For the rest of their walkabout, Mencari couldn’t get either guard to say more, or get Longtime out of his mind. Who was he? More importantly, what would the riot be like?
* * * * * *
“If the warden gets up close and personal one more time, he’s going to get my whip—and not in the good way!” Dane said, plopping down at the cafeteria table.
The end of just the first day, and her body already hated her. Her nose wrinkled at the brown, bubbly goo on her plate. She looked over at Nikko and Kiyanna, who sat in various stages of choking down the so-called food. The guys must still be on patrol. Her stomach growled. She stared at the slop, trying to think of any way to delay putting it in her mouth. Where was a granola bar when she needed it? Would it taste as vile as it looked?
Nikko looked over. “Why? What’s going on with the warden?”
“He won’t leave me alone. Every time I try to move, he’s right there—about to bump into me. Total creeper.”
Her voice echoed off the metal walls. Maybe she needed to lower it just a bit? Who cared! Maybe he could hear what she had to say. She poked at the goo with her fork, half-expecting it to dissolve as if in acid, or perhaps the fork to be grabbed by the brown-slime creature. “Wonder if anyone ever told them runny brown goo with chewing blobs is one step from regurgitated cud?”
In a rare moment, she actually heard the bitterness of her own tone. What was wrong with her? After all, her assignment was actually fairly entertaining. But that wasn’t why they were here. She was here to rescue Tal, whom she hadn’t seen any sign of yet. Maybe their intel was wrong? Tal wasn’t on the new-prisoner board, and, according to Nikko and Kiyanna, wasn’t meandering around the prisoner common grounds.
“Sounds like someone didn’t use her whip enough today,” Kiyanna chastised.
“Actually, for your information, I did. Quite a bit, in fact,” Dane said. A cruel smirk crossed her face. “I kind of like my assignment.”
“So what do you do in the processing station?” Nikko asked.
“Oh, I’m not ‘in’ the processing station.”
Nikko started. “But the assignments said—”
“I work just beyond it. In the back rooms, helping to get more acquainted with the new inmates.”
“What does that mean?” Nikko asked. “Or don’t I want to know?”
Dane laughed. “The men here couldn’t handle me. Instead, I’ve been asked to help encourage the new inmates to provide some information of interest. Sometimes about their crimes, other times, about associates back home. One needed the full treatment—but I eventually broke him.”
With sarcasm, Kiyanna said, “Found your dream job, then?”
“If I had to pick a career … I know I can be very convincing when I need to be. Who knew my talents would be so … practical?”
“She’s in love,” Kiyanna chided.
“Nukari beasts, incarcerated inmates, I don’t see how it’s any different. It’s all fun,” she said with a gleeful warble.
“Any sign of our friend?” Kiyanna asked.
She shook her head. “There’s a number of inmates I haven’t seen in the indoctrination chamber—identification codes instead of names on the list. He could be one of them. What’s it like in the guard station?” she said to Nikko.
“Quiet, except for occasional alarms. It’s actually going well. Oh, and I saw a transfer notice for Naij … Gravis. They’re moving him to his cell tomorrow.”
“I was so hoping for a little one-on-one session with him. Wouldn’t that have been fun?” she said, grinning wide.
“Until he got out of here,” Kiyanna added. “Which reminds me …”
Dane tuned out the babble. She soon regretted doing that. Her thoughts rotated between cries from the inmates and the shrieks of her dying friends back on Keros. Odd how the same thing could can bring both fear and pleasure.
Now she had the power, and her hands inflicted the pain. It felt wicked, and wonderful. Each time an inmate cried out it felt like all the fear and pain she’d ever felt was lashed back to her tormentors.
But this was only temporary. Her ultimate goal remained the same—save Tal.
CHAPTER 17
Fists of Fury
Somethin’ doesn’t feel right.
Naijen looked over the inmates. They seemed to be going about their business: working out, talking in pairs, and other banal activities. But tension hung in the air. Too many sideways glances and swarming of the cliques.
He couldn’t help but smile. Something was up, something that he guessed would pop any minute. Kiyanna said there’d be violence. It couldn’t happen fast enough. Eyeing up the competition, he didn’t see anyone that would be a challenge. Wimps. Bet they cry when they get hit too.
Of course, without his Skar, and without using his abilities, he’d have to rely on his natural brawling instincts to carry him. Seemed about time to mix it up a bit. Nothing like using his fists to keep his hand-to-hand combat sharp.
So how would it begin? Maybe with the muscleheads on the weights? Maybe a squabble between the brains over a board game? Maybe some direct confrontation with their guard masters?
He counted three guards patrolling the common prisoner grounds. Scrawny twigs. He’d snap them in half without trying. As for the inmates, some weren’t too bad. They reminded him of when he was fourteen. These boys had some catching up to do.
Though, most were bigger than the guards. If something did happen, the guards better have big guns.
Off to the side, a curious scene grabbed his attention. One of the punier inmates looked nervous pacing near a doorway. He’d seen scared before, and that guy looked moments from wetting his pants. The door opened, and the inmate froze in place. He stared for a few seconds, then dashed to the corridor leading back to the cells. Pausing there, he stared down the passage. What’s he lookin’ at? His gaze was focused, body trembling. He nodded as if in response to someone. The tip of a long white beard appeared briefly.
Naijen took his first steps toward the inmate when the waif turned and shoved another inmate passing by. In an instant, a simple push chain-reacted into a roar of yelling and fists flying. Before he could even think, the scene in front of him degraded into madness, a full-on riot.
Naijen grinned.
Playtime!
It didn’t take long for the three guards to get themselves surrounded. Naijen finished pummeling an inmate before heading to help. Falling into a defensive ring, the three desperately tried to protect one another. A constant spray of sparks lashed out as their stunner devices fired. The cowards were trying to save their own skin instead of trying to put down the inmates. The scene made him sick. Using other inmates as shields, a group pushed through the zapping field and grabbed the guards. By the time he got there, one was beaten unconscious, the other two bleeding from deep lacerations.
Suddenly the lights turned a crimson red, and an alarm sounded out.
“This is a lockdown!” Nikko’s voice blared through the common space.
Lockdown? Aw, not yet!
A flood of armored guards firing rubber bullets and wielding Taser sticks rushed the area. Not wasting any more time, he beat down those still attacking the original guards, dragged them over to a side room, and pushed them inside.
With a blood-lusted roar, he charged at the next group brawling. Bodies went flying as he picked up the rowdiest of inmates and smashed them into walls, then into each other. Who needed weapons? Feeling his own fists crack the bones of these posers felt great.
Before long he noticed the armored reinforcements watching the spectacle. In a way it felt vaguely reminiscent of being in the Olympics back on his world. Let ’em watch; they could see just how powerful he was.
A small band of inmates regroupe
d and rushed him.
This is a joke, right?
Swinging a wide punch, he connected with two and sent them reeling. The third, who’d ducked, felt the crushing blow of Naijen’s elbow as he reversed his momentum to finish the job. The inmate’s nose was crushed with one hit.
Without breaking a sweat, the riot was done. He looked at the bodies that littered the area. Some whimpered in pain; others lay still, knocked unconscious. A few were fighting through the pain, crawling along the floor back toward the cell area. As brief as it was, it was a great time. Maybe there’d be more. He wondered how many riots there were here. Maybe he could even start some. Speaking of which, where was that scrawny guy that started it all? He looked around. Nothing. The scrawny guy was gone.
* * * * * *
“We called you here to talk about the riot earlier,” the warden said.
Where’s Mencari or Kiyanna? He’d expected to see at least one of his teammates in the room.
“Yeah? What about it?” Naijen said, gruff.
“What can you tell us about it? What started it, and so on.”
“Some scrawny guy was talkin’ to someone in the back corridor—couldn’t see who—but to me, looked like he was takin’ orders to start it.”
The warden pointed to a display on the wall. “Is this who you saw?”
Thin body, with the perpetual look of terror in his eyes? “Yeah, that’s him.”
“We’ll investigate the rest from here,” the warden said walking toward the door. “Before you go, Rakus here wanted to talk to you.”
Now who’s this? he thought. The name wasn’t familiar, nor was the bouncer-looking dude the warden pointed to. He wore the standard Naldes armor, with one exception. A short red cape draped off the back. A cape? Seriously? And a white emblem decorated the chest plate. It looked like a fist.
“So, Gravis, is it?” the man named Rakus said. Naijen was about to correct him, when he recalled his alias. “I was impressed with how you handled the other inmates.”
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