by R. M. Olson
Lev tried to look nervous.
In all honesty, it wasn’t difficult.
“I’m not getting in with anyone,” he whispered back. “She recognized me from Svalbor. I transferred in from there.”
The man’s brows lowered further, and Lev gritted his teeth. He wasn’t certain how long his luck would hold, but it may have just run dry.
“What did she want?” he growled at last.
“I don’t know if I—”
The man turned to him, and his expression was almost as intimidating as Ysbel’s when she was angry.
“She’s going to make a play,” Lev said quickly. “That’s what I gather. They know about what’s happening outside.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “And how do you know what’s happening outside?”
“I don’t,” Lev whispered. “Only what she said.” His throat was somehow dry.
The man gave him a hard stare. “And where’s she going to make her play?”
“I don’t know.” He paused a moment, then said even more quietly, “I have a new cell mate. She transferred in with me. I don’t know who she’s with, but she has pull.”
“And?”
“And she told me she’s looking for a woman named Tanya. I don’t know why. But if someone came to her with the info, I suspect she’d be grateful.”
For the first time, the man looked uneasy. “Tanya Fedrova?”
“That’s the one. You know her?”
“No. But you hear things. She’s the one married to that mass murderer out of Prasvishoni, isn’t she?”
Lev shrugged. “I don’t know. Me? I’d rather be on the bad side of a mass murderer who isn’t here, and in with my cell mate, who is here. If you take my meaning.” He cast a meaningful glance in Ysbel’s direction. “Anyways, that’s what Milojevic seemed to think. My cellmate’s been spreading her ask around. I’m guessing she’ll be grateful to whoever gets her the information first.”
The man glared at him uncertainly. Finally he growled, “I don’t know what your game is, boy. But we don’t like spies and tell-tales around here. If I find out you’re going behind my back, you’re a dead man. You’d best watch yourself.”
Lev let out a long breath. “I’d gathered that,” he murmured wryly.
“What?” the man snapped.
“I said, thank you. I will.”
He glared at Lev suspiciously for a moment, then turned back to his own work. But as the work shift ended, Lev hung back a moment.
The man, Ushakov, was watching as the other work shift filed past. His eyes followed Milojevic, and his gaze was thoughtful. She didn’t look at him, but there was an expression of slight triumph on her face.
Lev allowed himself a slight smile.
Give it a few days, and the guards might be very busy indeed.
That was the thing about hierarchies. They could be exploited. If you knew how to look.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TAE, SECTOR 2, Day 2
The shrill whistle jerked Tae out of his sleep in a panic. He jolted upright on his rough cot, staring wildly around the dim narrow cell, and it took him far longer than it should have to remember where he was, and why. He sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a dull headache starting in the back of his skull as the orangey artificial lights flickered on down the bare corridor between the cells.
He’d been up most of the night before, trying to hack through the system. He’d had no better luck than he’d had back on the Ungovernable.
Hadn’t gotten any more sleep than he had back then, either.
This was going to be a long day.
There was no help for it. Before he could make a game plan, he’d need to get a scan of the wiring, and the one thing he’d learned yesterday, other than a reminder of the fact that he really hated prison, was that the non-reactive fill in the bricks completely blocked out his scans.
And the fact that the vis-cams in the cells were so ancient they were mostly non-functional.
He’d passed that on to the others. One thing on their side, at any rate.
When he stepped out of the dim, grungy hallway and into the courtyard, the dry, already-hot morning air hit him like a slap in the face. No wonder they didn’t let the prisoners out in the afternoon.
Ahead of him he saw Jez’s familiar slouch, and breathed a sigh of relief.
At least she hadn’t been killed yet.
She was staring up at the sky, and he could guess at the expression on her face.
“Jez!” he hissed. She turned quickly at his voice, and he bit back a groan. She was sporting a black eye.
“What happened?” he whispered. She grinned, but there was a recklessness behind her expression that frightened him.
“My cell-mate had a little accident last night. Slipped on the floor and knocked herself out. Guards came in, but it was just an accident, so—” she shrugged. “Took her to the medics for observation.”
“That?” Tae gestured at Jez’s face. Jez shrugged again.
“Hit me in the face on her way down, by accident. It’s all fine.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder, to where a tall, muscular woman stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching through narrowed eyes. “Well, better run,” she said with a wink. “No point in being late for breakfast.” She shot the woman a snarky grin and ambled off. He watched her go, worry tightening itself around his chest.
They’d been here exactly one day, and Jez was already spiralling.
He’d told he’d get her out. He’d promised.
And he still didn’t have a damn lead into the system.
The woman—Jez’s cellmate—glared at him, as if memorizing his face. He ducked his head and tried to blend into the crowd of prisoners. He didn’t have time for fights right now. And the woman across the courtyard looked like she wanted one.
To be honest, after spending a night locked in a cell with a pent-up Jez, he wasn’t sure he blamed her.
Once he was certain he was out of her sight, he moved over to where he could hang back by the wall. Years of living on the streets had taught him the value of keeping a low profile.
Well, as low a profile as he could, with someone like Jez as a friend.
Still, he’d managed to avoid any real trouble by the time the prisoners started moving towards the long line back into the building. The air had heated noticeably since he’d come out, and sweat was already soaking unpleasantly through his hair. After a lifetime in Prasvishoni, where he’d never once felt completely warm, it was amazing how quickly being too hot became uncomfortable.
Someone bumped into him from behind as he walked, and he stumbled forward, knocking into the prisoner in front of him.
“Hey—” the man began.
“I’m sorry,” Tae muttered, brushing himself off. “I’m really sorry. I tripped.” He turned to see who had bumped him, and groaned.
The muscular woman stood there, with an unpleasant smile on her face.
“Found you,” she said, her voice soft with menace. “Saw you talking to number 8859 this morning. Friend of yours, is she?”
Tae’s stomach tightened.
Damn Jez.
The woman grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hauled him close. “I asked you a question, boy.”
The rest of the prisoners had moved away, clearing a space around them, and no one seemed to want to meet his eye.
“I—” His heart was pounding in his throat.
The shrill blast of a whistle sounded across the courtyard, and the exodus for the meal line became general.
For a moment, she looked like she was thinking of hitting him anyways. Finally, though, she let go of his shirt disdainfully, shoving him backwards. He stumbled, trying to catch his balance, and she gave him a cold smile.
“We’re not done, boy. I’ll come find you,” she whispered. Then she moved into the line.
He bit back the fear climbing his throat and lowered his head again. Maybe he could slip away.
He didn’t p
laguing well have time for this.
They filed through the long corridor and into the mess-hall for breakfast, and he kept his head down. Like he always bloody did.
Figure out this system. Get a scan. That was all he needed to worry about. And if he could avoid getting beat up at the same time, well, that was a bonus.
When he glanced up, though, as he ate, he noticed Jez’s cellmate watching him. When she caught his eye, she smiled grimly.
Damn.
He swallowed down the remainder of his breakfast and stood quickly, grabbing his bowl, and ducked into a cluster of prisoners.
When he was far enough away that she probably wouldn’t find him, he let out a breath and glanced around him at the mess hall.
Nothing here. Even the floor and ceiling were non-reactive, if his com scan was correct. The cooling vents were tiny, hardly big enough to fit his closed fist, and were covered by vent-covers with hair-thin slits. Not ideal for cooling, but certainly good for keeping prisoners from escaping.
Venting system was out then, and maintenance too, from the looks of it.
The whistle blew, signalling the end of meal time, and he glanced around quickly for Jez’s cellmate.
She hadn’t seen him yet, but she was clearly looking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man who he’d bumped into earlier. He seemed to be watching Tae as well. Tae almost groaned out loud.
So much for keeping a low profile.
Work detail was the same as the day before—after an eternity of standing in line to be counted, he was prodded through into a wide, low building that looked something like a hangar-bay, but filled with work stations, and much, much too hot.
Their job, he’d learned yesterday, was grinding the edges of manufactured ships parts and packing them away.
He picked a station as far out of the way as possible, and sat down, turning on his grinder and pulling the goggles over his eyes.
Over the noise, he glanced around surreptitiously.
This place wasn’t the main compound, but it had to be wired in, to power the grinders. Maybe here there would be a way in.
Someone slammed their hands down on the table, causing the parts in front of him to jump. Tae jumped too, but he knew, before he even looked up, who it was.
His heart was beating far too quickly, and there was a knot in his throat.
The woman gave him a menacing look, and he swallowed hard.
“Listen,” he said sullenly, “we were on the same transport in here. That’s all I know about her.”
“You’re lying,” she growled. “You’ll tell me where she went and where she’s hiding from me. And if you don’t know, you’ll damn well find out.” Up close, he could see the edges of the bandage patch on the back of her head, and the grim hatred in her eyes.
His muscles were tight, and he felt slightly sick at the thought of what was about to happen. But he couldn’t very well sacrifice Jez. Even if she deserved it.
“I told you. I don’t know her,” he muttered.
She grabbed his shoulder and jerked him out of his chair, and too late he noticed the two prisoners standing to either side of him. They grabbed him from behind, twisting his arms back painfully. He struggled, but it was no use.
Four other prisoners surrounded them, cutting off the view of the guards.
“You’ll tell me, boy, or you’ll wish you had,” the woman murmured. She drew back her fist, and he turned his head away, closing his eyes.
But the blow didn’t fall. He glanced up quickly, throat tight with a mix of panic and relief.
Someone had grabbed the woman by the arm.
“Vlatka. Leave the kid alone.”
The woman—Vlatka—narrowed her eyes and jerked her head, and the men holding Tae shoved him forward. He stumbled into a bench, knocking it over, and fell heavily to his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet and glanced behind him. The two prisoners had grabbed the newcomer—the man he’d bumped into earlier—by the arms. The man swung his body, trying to pull free, and the three of them crashed into the table, jarring it loose. One of the grinders toppled over, falling to the ground with a crunch, and the table fell with it, scattering bolts and shavings across the floor.
And there, under one of the legs where it had fallen—a hole in the floor where the grinder’s wiring came through.
No one was watching. The guards were on their way over, but he had time. He could grab a quick scan—
The other prisoners had subdued his rescuer, and Vlatka swung, catching the man in the face. The man’s head jerked back, and Tae cursed under his breath.
He needed this scan. He didn’t have time for this.
But the man hadn’t had to save him …
Shaking his head in exasperation at his own stupidity, he turned and sprinted the few steps back to the fight. He caught one of the men in the ribs with his shoulder, and as the man stumbled backwards Tae grabbed his rescuer by the front of the shirt and hauled him to one side, out of the grip of the other prisoner.
“What—” the man began. “What are you—”
“I’m not going to let you take my damn beating,” Tae said through his teeth.
Vlatka lunged for them, and he shoved the man under the fallen bench and rolled under after him. Vlatka dropped to the ground to follow, and he squirmed through the narrow space. On the other side, Vlatka’s friends had come around to cut off their escape. But beside them, the grinder was still spinning ineffectually, on its side on the floor. He scrabbled on the floor for something—anything—and someone thrust a bundle of bolts into his hand. Desperately, he jammed the whole bundle into the grinder. It squealed in protest, smoke rising from it as the machinery strained against the sudden load, and he heard guards’ footsteps running towards them.
“This way,” the man hissed, and pulled Tae behind the table and out beside an empty station. “Sit,” he commanded, and Tae did. The man flipped the grinder in front of them on, shoved a bolt into Tae’s hand, and dropped into the station next to him, glaring studiously at his work. From behind them, the guards shouted and swore, and Vlatka growled some explanation.
“Don’t look up,” the man whispered, and Tae didn’t have to be told twice.
Someone righted the table, and he bit back a curse. So much for his scan.
At last the guards left, Vlatka and her friends with them, and Tae let out a shaky breath of relief. The man beside him smiled and raised his goggles, and Tae got a good look at him for the first time.
He was tall and slender, probably in his early thirties, with a cultured look about him, despite the rising bruise on his cheek. His expression was pleasant, with lines on his face of someone who smiled more often than not. “Well,” he said. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Ivan.”
“Tae.”
The man gave him a curious look. “You didn’t have to come back for me, you know.”
“You didn’t have to step in.”
The man shrugged. “I overheard what she was saying. I don’t meet many people who’d risk a beating to protect a friend.” He paused. “I have some friends, too. I’ll do my best for you, but better watch your back. The guards won’t step in until you’re hurt bad. And depending on the guard, they might be the ones doing the beating.”
Tae nodded, staring at the grinder as it shaved the rough edges off the railing bolt in his hand.
He hated the relief he felt, the guilty thought that maybe there’d be someone on his side for once.
He should feel sick about this. He’d had a chance. Probably the best chance he was going to get, and he’d lost it. He owed his friends, not this stranger.
Still … he glanced up and shook his head.
He couldn’t bring himself to regret going back for him.
Which was probably the whole problem.
CHAPTER NINE
YSBEL, SECTOR 1, Day 2
Ysbel downed her breakfast quickly, her eyes roving over the prisoners. It was the beginning of her
second day here. She’d known it wouldn’t be a matter of stepping into the prison and seeing her long-lost wife, but somehow she’d still hoped—
Every time she caught a glimpse of brown hair, or a slender figure, her heart stuttered. But each time, when the figure turned, or moved, she realized she’d been mistaken.
By the time the meal was over, she felt like she’d aged ten years. Knowing Tanya was here, somewhere, and not being able to see her—it was agony.
Tanya. Olya. Misko. Their names pounded in her brain like a heartbeat.
She’d find them, one way or another. She’d find them and free them if it killed her.
The meal this morning was strained. Groups of prisoners gathered, muttering and casting dark looks at each other, and the line-up for their courtyard time almost turned into a brawl. Their time in the stifling hot morning air of the courtyard felt like the calm before a storm.
Lev had mentioned something yesterday about stirring things up. What had the ridiculous boy done?
The queues for the work lines were just as tense as the ones into the courtyard. The morning heat had done nothing to calm the prisoners’ fraying tempers. Ahead of her, two prisoners got into a shoving match, and one of them bumped into her. She turned her flattest glare on the woman, and she stepped back quickly, apologizing. Ysbel gave her a cold smile.
Just as well. She didn’t need another murder on her hands at the moment.
She was on cleaning crew today, and Lev was on dish duty again. Judging from his resigned expression, he was not thrilled.
She had to bite back a quiet grin.
It wasn’t really funny, when you thought about it. He didn’t have to be here, and he was only here because of her, and she still didn’t completely understand why.
But at the same time, it was a bit funny.
The guards handed out the rags and buckets, and herded them through to the mess hall. No mops with handles. Probably because they could be used as weapons.
That was too bad. But, of course, almost anything could be used as a weapon if you thought about it hard enough. She should know.
She plunged her rag into the soapy water and pulled it out, dripping.
