by R. M. Olson
For a moment the walls were closing in on her, the air too thick to breathe, like it had been back on the prison ship in Prasvishoni. She sucked in a long breath.
It would be fine. Just a week, right? It’d be fine.
Her hands were shaking with adrenalin.
“Prisoner!”
She glanced up. A large guard stood directly in front of her, scowl on his face and shock-stick in his hand.
He didn’t look even a little bit happy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LEV, SECTOR 1, Day 1
Lev swore under his breath, his stomach tightening even more than it already had been.
Across the open courtyard, Jez was face-to-face with one of the prison guards, a huge man with the look of someone you didn’t want to mess with. He was scowling, and Lev was all too familiar with the expression on Jez’s face.
“You will pay attention when I speak, and you’ll do as your told, prisoner!” The threat in the guard’s voice was audible even from where Lev was standing.
Lev turned away from the other prisoners and tapped his com frantically. “Jez. Leave it,” he hissed. She glanced in his direction, a dangerous expression on her face, and raised an eyebrow. Then she turned and said something he couldn’t hear to the guard.
The guard raised his shock-stick, and Lev flinched as he brought it down across Jez’s ribs. She grunted and stumbled back, and the guard looked down at her, his face set in cruel satisfaction.
Jez caught her balance and grinned up at him. “Well, I assume she must have been blind, because I figure that’s the only way—”
Lev turned away so he wouldn’t see the inevitable, but he couldn’t escape the sickening sound of the shock-stick slamming into the side of Jez’s head. He looked up despite himself as she went down.
“Stay down, you idiot,” he whispered into the com. But, of course, she was already struggling to her feet.
He swore again. “Masha, I’m going to keep Jez from being killed,” he said through his teeth, then tapped his com off and pushed his way through the prisoners toward her.
A small group of prisoners had gathered at the commotion, but they were staying well back. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know about the guard.
He shook his head and stepped around them.
They’d think he was a plaguing idiot. And he wasn’t certain they’d be wrong.
Jez pushed herself up on her elbows, her grin sharp, a bruise already rising across her temple, and he bit back a surge of cold anger at the guard. “Here’s the thing, though, you bastard,” she said. “I’m not used to taking orders from brush-pigs, and honestly, from where I sit, it’s hard to tell the difference between—”
The guard bent and shoved the shock-stick under her ribs and held it there. Jez’s body jolted back, and Lev had the sudden urge to do something that would certainly be suicidal. Jez somehow she still managed to swear loudly and fluently between her teeth until the guard finally removed the stick. She collapsed in a heap, and the guard gave her a speculative look, as if considering his next options.
“Sir?” Lev said quickly, and the guard turned.
“What is it, prisoner?” he growled.
He was a muscular man, with a heavy, brutal face, thick eyebrows, and a nose that appeared to have been broken more than once. He clearly had no aversion to using physical force to punctuate his orders.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Lev said, keeping his voice as polite as possible. “I think there may have been a glitch on the schedule. I’m not in this shift.”
The eyes of the prisoners around him could have possibly burned holes in his uniform. They were probably wondering if he had a death wish, and in all honestly he was wondering the same thing himself.
The guard swore at him, turning away from Jez with obvious reluctance. “Number?” he grunted.
“7592,” Lev replied promptly. The guard tapped something into his com, and frowned. He swore again, and grumbled into the com, “We have a glitch. Five prisoners whose assignments got wiped.”
Lev let out a breath of relief. Tae’s patch had worked.
A moment later, a businesslike woman in a warden’s uniform strode over. The prisoners parted to let her through. More people had gathered, until it felt like half the courtyard was watching, and the other half were straining over the first half’s shoulders to see.
The warden stepped through them as if she didn’t notice their presence. Her manner was collected, her face a calculating calm. Lev recognized her instantly.
Warden Koshelev.
He’d been shocked when he’d found her name on the database, and seeing her made a slight unease start in his chest.
She’d once been a bureaucrat in Prasvishoni. He knew of her, although he’d never met her in person—she had a reputation of calm ruthlessness and brutal efficiency. She saw the world in terms of favours and paybacks, and she was one to always be on the correct side of that ledger. When he’d started in the government, she was on her way to a high position.
Whatever had happened to consign her to acting as warden in a backwater prison, he was very certain that she would let nothing and no one ruin her chances again.
“Call them,” she said brusquely “They’ll need to be updated in the count. I wonder why the system didn’t catch it this morning.”
She gave Lev a sharp glance, and he looked down, keeping his expression neutral as the guard shouted out their prison numbers through the wall coms. The warden narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t recognize you.”
Lev raised his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was transferred in last week from Svalbor. Transfer ship 549. I understand it was delayed.”
“Ah. Yes. I wasn’t there when they unloaded.”
Masha, Tae, and Ysbel had pushed their way through the crowd at the guard’s summons, and Jez rolled stiffly onto her side. She was visibly shaking from the electric shock, but she somehow managed a grin.
“Reporting for duty, cap’t,” she said, pushing herself gingerly to her feet. She dusted herself off carefully as the warden frowned in her direction.
“What happened here?”
“Prisoner refused to follow orders,” the guard said sulkily.
“Prisoners,” said the warden in a cool voice. “You’re getting reassignments.” She paused, measuring them. “You two,” she said, pointing at Ysbel and Lev, “will be in cell block 15, cell 27. That’s the other shift. I’ll have the guards escort you. You two,” she pointed at Masha and Tae, “can go into cell block 12, cell 33.” She paused, and gave the five of them a cold look. “Now. Listen to me. This is my prison. Every cell assignment comes past my desk. Everything you do, I see. And my prison runs smoothly. You’ve already caused a disruption. Believe me, you don’t want to do it again. You behave, everything goes well. You want trouble, I will make certain you find it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lev murmured.
“And you—” The warden turned to Jez, who was gingerly feeling the bruise on the side of her face and muttering uncomplimentary things about brush pigs with shock-sticks.
“Looks like there’s no one to put me with,” said Jez, with a sort of reckless cheerfulness. “Guess you’ll have to let me go.”
The warden’s gaze turned icy.
“I suggest we put her in with prisoner 4579,” the guard grunted. The warden looked at Jez thoughtfully, then at the guard.
“I get along with basically everyone,” Jez volunteered. Lev shot her an exasperated glare and she winked at him, then winced and swore loudly.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said the warden in a cool voice. “Very well, prisoner, we’ll see how well you get along with people.”
Lev groaned internally. He had the sinking feeling this would not end well, either for Jez or for prisoner 4579.
“That would put you in the other shift,” continued the warden. “And you will in the future obey orders from the guards, is that understood?”
The guard made to step forward, but the warden put up a restraining hand. He stopped immediately, and Lev raised an eyebrow.
Apparently, she was just as in control of this prison as she said she was.
The warden stepped up until she was looking Jez straight in the eye.
“You,” she said softly, “will learn to obey. You’ll learn to respect the guards. And you will learn to not make trouble. You’ll learn it the easy way, or you’ll learn it the hard way. Do you understand me?”
“People have been trying that since I was born,” said Jez. “But hell, you might be the lucky one.”
Lev closed his eyes for a moment in a sort of horrified resignation.
The warden gestured, and the guard stepped forward, an ugly expression on his face. Before Jez could move, he’d shoved the shock stick into her stomach. Her body jerked for a few moments, until the warden gestured again. Reluctantly, the guard removed the shock stick, and Jez hunched forward, clutching her stomach, breath apparently knocked out of her.
Lev forced his hands to unclench, biting back the vomit rising in his throat.
“Perhaps I will be,” the warden said, her voice cool. “In your cell for the rest of the day, no additional courtyard time. That should give you plenty of time to think about things before you meet your cellmate.”
Jez narrowed her eyes, but before she had time to say anything, the woman tapped her com and called briskly, “Ansic, Ivanovic, escort prisoner 8859 to her cell.”
A moment later, a guard appeared on either side of Jez.
“Hands,” said one of them. There was a slightly frantic look on Jez’s face, and for half a moment Lev thought she’d fight, but at last, reluctantly, she held out her arms. Lev’s shoulders slumped in relief as the guards clipped the magnetic cuffs around her wrists.
“Good,” said the warden. “See? You’re learning already.”
Jez managed to make a rude gesture with her cuffed hands before the guards led her away.
Lev caught Tae’s eyes, and they shared a look of mixed exasperation and worry.
Five minutes in, and Jez was already in trouble with the warden. This had the potential to go very badly indeed.
The scowling guard shoved Lev and Ysbel back into the body of the courtyard. He didn’t seem inclined to beat them, but then again, Lev wasn’t inclined to mouth off to him. And no one in their right mind would be inclined to get into a fight with Ysbel.
“Behave yourselves,” the guard growled. “Warden doesn’t like troublemakers.” There was a menacing undertone to his words.
Lev ducked his head in response, and the guard turned away. Still, Lev could feel the man’s eyes on his back. He shivered slightly.
Thank goodness Jez had been assigned to the other shift.
He shook his head and glanced around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
This clearly would not be as simple as he’d hoped.
The courtyard area was crowded with prisoners. If he’d had to guess, he would have said there were a hundred prisoners in the cramped yard, but the grounds seemed to have been split into several courtyards, each backing onto the main compound. The wall guns, massive and old-fashioned, loomed over everything, and there were vis-cams every metre or two along the interior walls. Guards stood at the entrances to the compound, each one heavily armed. Even the concrete courtyard floor was covered with what looked like a non-reactive glaze, scuffed and worn but still very effective.
Now that he wasn’t obviously trying to get himself killed, the prisoners had moved away from him, although a few still cast suspicious glances over their shoulders. As they returned to what they’d been doing before Jez decided to provide the entertainment, he leaned back against the wall and looked quickly around.
Ysbel was scanning the crowd for Tanya. She’d recognize her family before he would, so he settled back to watch the prisoners.
They mingled in what appeared to be random patterns. He frowned.
Interesting.
There’d be a hierarchy, of course, but it seemed it wasn’t something they were making too obvious. The warden clearly wanted her fingerprints on everything that happened here.
Still, there was a pattern behind the randomness, if you knew how to look. And if you had the prisoner list he’d been studying.
And the thing about hierarchies was, it was easy to exploit them. If you knew how to look.
When three loud whistle blasts sounded, he moved to the back of the line, keeping his eyes down so as not to appear threatening. He noticed, with some amusement, that Ysbel had stepped into the centre of the line. No one said a word, or even shot her a dirty look.
Her method of getting into the prison hierarchy seemed to be rather more direct than his. Still, they couldn’t all be highly-intimidating mass murderers.
They shuffled agonizingly slowly past the guards counting them off, and into the harsh, flickering orange light and the grimy white walls of the prison proper.
The prisoners ahead of him seemed to know where they were going, so he followed the woman in front of him down a bare, wide hallway, cells lining either side. They passed through two heavy doors, now propped open, into a large, open room that must be the mess hall. It was packed at one end with long, low tables. On the other, a harried-looking prisoner ladled bluish-grey ration-gruel into tin bowls, and across from him a row of deep, utility-style sinks were set back into the wall. From the looks of it, the dish washers would fill the sinks from the other side to do the washing up. The place was so old it didn’t even have a cleanser. Or maybe the warden just bought into the government line that work made productive citizens.
He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell as the line shuffled towards the serving table. He’d forgotten how bad prison food could be.
He took his portion, then glanced quickly around the hall.
There.
He smiled slightly, and moved towards a muscular woman with tattoos running up her neck and into her hair. He sat at the table across from her, and she glowered at him.
“Watch yourself, boy. This isn’t your seat.”
He smiled slightly and spread his hands in a non-threatening manner. “I came looking for you,” he said in a low voice. “I have information you might find interesting.”
She glared at him suspiciously. “Who the hell are you?”
“New here,” he said, moving closer. He glanced around the room quickly, and leaned forward.
His hands were sweating slightly.
Five of the prisoners behind him were clearly hers, and they were clearly waiting for a signal.
He really, really hated getting hit.
“What is it?” she asked at last.
He cut his eyes around again, and she made an impatient gesture. “Spit it out, or I’ll beat it out of you.”
“Are you Milojevic?”
She glared at him, and he swallowed. If he’d miscalculated …
“Yes,” she grunted at last.
He leaned forward. “Ushakov,” he whispered. He hoped desperately that was the right name. “I have information on him.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Back at Svalbor. Where I was transferred from. There was a Blood Riot cell, and one of the members mentioned you. Told me to pass something along.” He tried not to let his apprehension show on his face.
If he was wrong, in about thirty seconds he’d be more beat up than Jez.
“And?” she said impatiently. He let out his breath.
“He said he’d heard Ushakov ran this sector, and he said there were rumours that Ushakov’s friends on the outside were getting tired of him. Said he’s getting shut out, won’t be able to run the place much longer. Said it’s a good time for a change in the power structure.”
“You sure? His friends on the outside are backing down?”
Lev shrugged. “It’s what I heard. The Rims ar
e breaking up, new boss rising to the top. Ushakov is old guard.”
It was true, to an extent, although he’d added some embellishments. He hadn’t found much on the prison set-up itself, but it was surprising how much you could find about prisoners, and their connection to organized crime, if you knew where to look and had access to the information Lev did. And if you could make an educated guess as to who was who.
Milojevic narrowed her eyes at him, but he could see the calculation in them now.
“You better not be lying to me,” she said at last. Lev glanced around again, then tapped his fist in the centre of his chest and dropped his hand, index finger pointing outward. He felt slightly ridiculous, but the sign seemed to reassure the woman. She returned it, and he ducked his head, finished his meal quickly, and moved into the line for work detail.
He took a deep breath.
Part one down. Of course, part two was even more likely to get him beat up. But then, he’d just flashed a Blood Riot gang sign in a crowded prison, so there was only so much higher his level of stupid could go.
The guard counted them, cursed at Lev when he seemed unsure of where to go, and shoved him forward. In only a few moments, he was in gloves up to his shoulders, and elbow-deep in greasy water beside a short man with rock-hard muscles and a face that looked carved from stone.
The man glared at him. From his expression, he was contemplating all the different ways Lev could die.
“You looking for a beating?” the man asked softly, once the guards were out of range. “Or maybe you’re just stupid. You want to get in with Milojevic, maybe you should pick a work detail where she can protect you.”
