Learning the Hard Way 3

by H. P. Caledon

  “Where’s the prison?” Misery asked.

  “In the mountain.” Mike pointed. “It’s an old mine they reused. After geological surveys, they dug for about a hundred years and found something they shouldn’t have. Everybody died. So they gassed the planet with some evil bombs and deemed the place safe again. Just not to breathe on. The miners never returned, and since then they began dropping off prisoners out here.”

  “What did they find?”

  “Think it was some sort of parasite. Worms, I think.”

  “Think they’re called calf heads,” Kaleb added. “Hold on, we’re landing.”

  Misery held her breath until she felt the thump in the ship and released it when Mike whooped something about Kaleb not taking the doors with him.

  “Are you going, too?” she asked Kaleb who shook his head, glancing at Mike. “So we wait up here?”

  “Yes,” Kaleb said.

  “I’d like to see a prison.”

  “Then come up here and look out, because we wouldn’t be allowed further than the dock, anyway. We just drop off the prisoner and fly away again.”

  “Which is why I don’t understand why you won’t come,” Mike said.

  “Get on with it, I want to leave,” Kaleb growled. Mike got up and checked his equipment. Misery took the seat he’d vacated and looked out the front. The dock was big and empty, and the colors were boring to look at.

  “How did your brother get out?”

  “Slithered his way through the air ducts and came out over there. He stole a prison transport, killed a guard, knocked over one of the little skiffs, and maneuvered it under the doors so they couldn’t close the doors again. After he’d threatened them enough to open it for him.”

  “Wow, how do you threaten someone to do that?”

  “Nothing in here is free,” Mike said and strapped something to his thigh. “He apparently had something they wanted in trade for opening it.”

  “Yeah, their lives,” Kaleb mumbled.

  * * * *

  Mike left the cockpit and went downstairs to where Norman Petterson sat with an unhealthy skin tone. Mike tried to imagine how the auction would go. Would Norman be one the inmates would fight over? Suddenly Mike wasn’t too proud of what he did for a living, but it was their only way of making credits. He’d faced that fact even before he left the hospital after Keelan had tried to kill him.

  A voice sounded over the speakers, reporting everything clear. Mike opened the ramp, hauled Norman onto his limp legs, and guided him down the ramp and onto the dock. Two guards waited for them, and Mike thought he recognized one of them.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Are you back as a mercenary?” the guard asked.

  “Yeah.” Mike looked closer at the guard, who smiled as if he could see that Mike didn’t remember him.

  “Jameson. I took you and the physician to the dock.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mike said, remembering that it was also the guard he’d unintentionally ratted Keelan out to.

  “That was quite the mess with your cell buddy. I heard he caught up to you.” Jameson looked over Mike’s body as if assessing him. “Caused quite a bit of trouble when he escaped here, too.”

  Mike just shrugged and handed them the pad on Norman’s transfer. Jameson handled the rest and transferred the payment. The other guard oversaw Norman and handed Mike the fixation vest back.

  “Thanks. Wait, Jameson, could you say hi to Rainer and kick him in the balls from me?”

  Jameson chuckled. “No, but you knew that, right?”

  “Yeah, well, a man can hope, right?”

  “Have a good trip.”

  Mike nodded and returned to the ship.

  Maybe it was for the best Keelan hadn’t come, since Jameson remembered Mike. He certainly would’ve remembered Keelan. Even with a new identity, the situation could have turned ugly. But Mike had no intentions of telling Keelan anytime soon that he’d been right in refusing, so he just shut the ramp and returned to the cockpit. He resumed his seat in the copilot seat and listened to Misery’s long list of questions about Delta Zeich and her so-called mass murdering uncle while Keelan took them out of the dock and plotted the route for the nearest space station.

  * * * *

  Keelan felt relieved at the easy drop off four days earlier. Oddly enough, Mike hadn’t even mentioned anything about Keelan refusing to go with him. He’d actually expected Mike to bitch about it since.

  Leaving the cockpit after a conversation with Alice, Keelan found Mike watching VID in the common area.

  “What’s up? Smooth going, or is there gravel in the bearing grease?”

  “Smooth going.” Keelan continued into the kitchen, where Misery sat reading in her book. “Good book?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want coffee?”

  “I’m not old enough.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I drank coffee when I was fifteen,” Keelan said. “But that was to dull the taste of spirits. The coffee was certainly strong and bitter enough to drown it out.”

  “Any booze in that coffee?”

  “No, I learned to drink it black, later.”

  “News! Prisoner breach from Delta!” Mike shouted.

  “Prisoner bleach—” Keelan stopped and bit his uncooperative tongue.

  “Say that three times in a row without booze in the coffee,” Misery said, sending him a challenging look. Keelan snorted and ran to the common area, where Mike turned up the volume. Misery plopped down next to Mike and stared at the screen.

  Keelan and Mike exchanged glances, and Keelan feared the worst. Which came shortly after—a big lifelike photo of himself and of his upper arm with the tattoo.

  The commentator went on.

  “Since Keelan Hunter four and a half years ago managed to escape Delta Zeich in a stolen prison transporter, there have been twenty-two attempts at copying his success. Before Hunter, only one prisoner had managed to escape, but he was found fourteen days later, dead in the route-capsule he had chosen for his escape. Since then, no one has made it further than the dock.

  “This time, the escape was executed after a rebellion inside the prison during which seven guards lost their lives and thirteen remain seriously injured. Fifty-three prisoners died during the turmoil, and twenty-seven are still receiving medical attention. This left the guards so outnumbered that thirty-three prisoners escaped, but the ship was shot down by an incoming prison transporter before the prisoners made it out of the atmosphere.

  “Keelan Hunter remains the only one to ever successfully escape Delta Zeich.”

  “And Irgang! Just too bad it was never registered before it was buried along with the death certificate,” Mike scoffed at the screen.

  “Keelan Hunter was shot and killed during capture on Motáll eight months ago.”

  “Isn’t that you?” Misery asked, looking from him to the screen where a three-D image of him rotated from left profile to front view and to right profile. Next to it, his rap sheet was listed. Some of it, he’d had nothing to do with. Other’s weren’t mentioned.

  He guessed it kind of balanced itself out and looked at Misery. She looked nervous.

  “My dysfunctional and deeply criminal twin brother.”

  “Look at the names. Do you know any of them?” Mike asked.

  “Hope Rainer kicked it.”

  “There’re a few I’d like to see mentioned, too,” Mike mumbled, and for a second he looked destroyed.

  Keelan closed his eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. “Understandable.”

  Misery kept looking at Keelan. “He was your twin?”

  “Officially so,” Keelan said. He felt like a liar because he’d hid the truth, even though the way he worded it wasn’t a lie.

  Her focus drifted to his upper arm, but it was covered by a black shirt with a lawman logo right where the tattoo had been.

  “I heard about him. Read about him in the news feeds. They say he was from Verion Four.”r />
  “They do educate some of the best murderers. I speak from experience,” Mike said. “I’ve collected the bounty of six from Churchburrow and twice that from other places on Verion Four.”

  “Do you know who brought a Johannes from Churchburrow to Irgang? He’s what... fiftyish.” Keelan asked.

  “Ratkins, of course.”

  “For what?”

  “Uhm, sick in the head sect leader who had a thing for kids.”

  “Ew!” Keelan shouted and left for the kitchen, angry that he’d talked so much with Johannes. A thought registered, and he returned to the common room with a cup of coffee. “Wait, Johannes did time for murder.”

  “Yeah, he killed kids. Two.”

  “Ugh! And here I thought it could be... you know, one of those innocent murders.”

  “Innocent murders?” Mike exclaimed, blinking at him.

  “How many notches in your belt, pal?”

  “I was a soldier.”

  “Yeah, and? I once knew this girl, and her brother was at the Colony for ten years for having popped someone who tried to rape her. I mean, the bastard asked for it doing shit like that,” Keelan said.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t make the murder innocent.”

  “For lack of a better word, then.”

  “How about legally excused, self-defense or in defense of a family member, momentarily insane, involuntary manslaughter... all those work, too, but that does not make them innocent, just excusable.”

  “He beat the fucker over three days, and when he finally died from it, the brother hung his balls on a public pinboard,” Keelan said. Mike howled with laughter. “If I had a sister... what would you do if someone got too frisky and hurt Samantha?”

  Mike stopped laughing and looked at him. “Check my belt, and you’ll see.”

  “Uh, touchy subject?”

  “Yup. Good thing we have two months on a ship in route now. With that picture all over the news feed, your presence could cause panic in the streets.”

  “We land on a station in a week,” Keelan reminded him.

  “Yeah, but it’s enough if I go make our purchases.”

  “Was he really from Churchburrow?” Misery asked.

  Keelan looked at her. “Who?”

  “Keelan!”

  “Oh, yeah.” Keelan held back to see if she had more questions. She looked like she was about to burst from the number, but she kept them to herself. To Keelan’s regret, but at least it meant he wouldn’t have to lie to her in order to answer.

  She stood and went to her room. Mike and Keelan shared a look before returning their attention to the screen. They were running a special edition about all the prison escapes over the past fifty years.

  “You’re on top ten,” Mike said.

  “Yeah. I’m gonna go work out.”

  Chapter Two

  A few days later, Mike and Keelan sat in the kitchen in the early morning. Mike found the strong morning brew sorely needed because he’d lain awake long into the night, contemplating their current situation. Even though he felt like he’d gotten to know Keelan a lot better than had been possible in prison, he still found it weird that Keelan was a dad, and that the young woman on board was his daughter.

  Keelan was sometimes as tactful as a piece of music written by someone tone-deaf. The recap of his past and the differences between his and Mike’s upbringing gave Mike a good idea as to why that was the case. He even contemplated whether that didn’t put Misery and Keelan somewhat on common ground so they could understand each other.

  He hoped so.

  “We need to go over this. We need more resources and more hiding places,” Mike said.

  “And to find a place to talk about this where she won’t accidently hear us,” Keelan mockingly whispered loudly over the table.

  Mike didn’t look up from his pad—he just pointed to his watch. “Trip alarm on her door.”

  “Nifty.”

  “How did you hide when on the run?”

  “I only ventured out at night, mugged alcoholics and pimps, and hid with the rats. I will not subject my daughter to that.”

  “We need credits. Lots of them.”

  “So we track down a big booty.”

  “The majority of those have to go Irgang, and I’m not brave enough to go there for the next few years,” Mike said, laughing humorlessly.

  “Weren’t they building another max?”

  “Yeah, but it got put on hold because they found some minerals that have to be mined first. They’re starting over somewhere else.”

  “So you’re saying we can’t make a lot of credits anytime soon.”

  “There’s always hired hits.”

  “No!” Keelan said. “I’m not a hired shiv anymore. You were the last I paid for with murder. Or got as payment... paid murder, don’t matter, you know what I mean.”

  Mike remembered the auction where Keelan had fought someone to own Mike, and it still made him shiver to think that it could be allowed in a prison approved by the Systems. His leg jack-hammered at the memory. He felt Keelan looking at him.

  “Mike... ”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mike said without looking up and without getting control of his leg.

  Keelan remained quiet for a few minutes. “When I shared a cell with Jasper,” he finally said. “He seemed so... well in prison mentality he was weak, but... ”

  Mike finally looked up, trying to remember what little he’d heard about the man. “But?”

  “He talked about everything. And complained that I didn’t, so I was thinking... do you do that out here?”

  “You talk to the ones you trust,” Mike said, staring at the wall.

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you’re not exactly talking to me about it.”

  “And Pavlov? You’re not exactly chatty about him, either, but I’m inclined to think it’s because we don’t need to share that kind of stuff. It doesn’t have anything to do with us not having that kind of friendship. I bet Jasper was the kind of guy who just shared—even if it was about marital problems in bed.”

  “He... he actually did.” Keelan chuckled.

  “Have you ever heard me talk about my bedside female friends?” Mike asked.

  Keelan shook his head.

  “And what do you make of that?”

  “That you don’t have any,” Keelan suggested with a smile.

  “Hah!”

  Mike’s watch beeped. He pushed the button and nodded toward the hall. Keelan got up and left.

  * * * *

  Misery felt tired and sluggish. It had been like that for over a week. She remembered a similar sluggishness from when she and the other kids from Churchburrow flew from Verion Four to Motáll. The cook on the freighter had told her that it often happened when people didn’t get enough vitamins. And no sun for an extended period of time. Misery didn’t think the lack of sun could be the reason, since she’d grown up on a planet with almost no sun. At least the cook had promised to make sure she got enough vitamins in her food.

  But she felt a different kind of tired. Maybe it was because she didn’t sleep enough. Since she’d watched the program about her uncle, Keelan Hunter, she’d thought about him. Her dad was a military man and a lawman—her uncle was a murderer who’d been on the run from the law almost as long as he’d lived. How could she have more in common with her uncle than her own dad?

  She wanted to know more about Keelan, but Mike had said his files had been buried along with his death certificate. The only way she saw was to ask Mike and Kaleb.

  With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs out of bed, gathered her clothes, and left the room.

  Kaleb came into the hallway as she reached the bathroom. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she mumbled. “Gonna take a shower.”

  “Okay. We’re calling in a window to land soon. You need to talk with Mike about what he’s supposed to buy for you.”

  “Uh-huh.” She closed the
door behind her, slowly enough to hear Kaleb release a sigh.

  Upon finishing her bath, Misery went to the kitchen. Kaleb was nowhere to be found. Mike sat with a pad that got his undivided attention except for the two seconds it took for him to look up and say, “Good morning,” to her. She found breakfast and took a seat.

  “What do you absolutely need for me to buy today?” Mike asked.

  “Clothes and... ”

  “What size?”

  “Medium.”

  “Bras? Seventy-five B?” Mike asked, still not looking up from the pad.

  Misery felt her cheeks flush.

  Mike finally looked up, nodded, and jotted something down. “And your preferred products for that time of the month?”

  The flush rose to cover her ears, and she looked into her plate.

  Mike looked up with an amused expression. “I have a sister. This won’t be the first time I’ve been looked at funnily in the women’s department or had a shopping basket full of hygiene sports pads.”

  “Well, then buy what you know I’ll need and stuff.”

  “Any particular brand? I’m just a guy, and I’ve had my ears scolded raw for buying the wrong stuff.”

  “I lived on the streets. Sometimes a dishcloth was all I had.”

  “Okay,” Mike murmured and looked at his pad. “I’ll buy as if I was buying for my sister then.”

  Kaleb joined them. “Buckle down, our window is open.”

  Misery cleared her place and went to sit in the cockpit. Mike took the captain’s chair, and Kaleb came in a minute later with a kitbag which he strapped in next to Misery before taking the copilot seat.

  “Do you have the ID ready?” Mike asked. Kaleb nodded, and Mike put the call through.

  “Pinpippispas Plateau, this is Bellows. We request permission to land,” Mike said.

  “Bellows. Please transfer the ships ID and the crew’s A-cards.”

  Kaleb transferred them, and they waited a minute or two before they got a response.

  “Do you need assistance of any kind?”

  “No, thank you, we are fully operational.”