by R. M. Olson
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said at last in a low voice. “Even if Tanya does come, the best I’ve found so far are some outdated specs on the internal lock system. Nothing that would help us break out three prisoners out who are set into the prison system, not just patched like we are. So.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to say next.
Jez. The bruises on her face, the desperation in her voice when he’d spoken to her over the com.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“We’ll go out on the supply ship, like we discussed. We’ll bring Tanya and the kids with us if we can. But—I think we need to make our plans with the assumption they’re not coming.”
Even saying the words made him sick.
Two children, growing up in this place.
He glanced reflexively down at the bottom bunk again.
But Ysbel was sleeping peacefully. She trusted him. When had he ever given her reason not to?
And, of course, she assumed he’d never betray her, because she assumed he was doing this because he cared about her. Because he wanted the same thing she did.
How the hell had he managed to put himself in this position?
“I know,” said Tae quietly. “Masha and I have been talking about the same thing. I was hoping we’d have a breakthrough once we were in here. But I have nothing.”
“It’s more than that,” said Masha, her voice cold. “That pilot will get every member of this crew killed soon, if she doesn’t get herself killed first. The guards are already talking about her. If she gets into enough trouble, do you think they won’t look at her file more closely? Tae, correct me if I’m wrong, but your patches won’t hold up under close scrutiny.”
“So what needs to happen?” Lev asked at last.
“Get me what you found on the internal locks,” said Tae. “I may be able to use that to build a key that will get us out of our cells, at least. If it’s just us getting off, I only need to get the five of us assigned to courtyard time when the ship comes in, which should be easy enough, but I’ll need to scan the wiring. I—haven’t been able to get a scan during the day.”
“Can’t you use the same patch you used to get us in?”
“No. That patched us into the system, but it doesn’t give me any access to the prisoner assignments. I saw a patch of broken wall in the library that may let my scanner through, but I can’t get to it when there are people watching.”
“I’ll send you the lock specs right away,” said Lev finally, his voice low.
“Lev,” said Masha softly. “You’ve done your best. The important thing now is to save the team.”
“I know.”
Lev tapped off his com and lay back on his hard bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.
He couldn’t get out of his mind Jez’s face, bruised and battered, the limp she hadn’t been able to hide.
And he couldn’t get out of his mind the sound of Ysbel’s silent sobs the night before, as she’d told him about the woman she loved, the woman she’d die for.
He felt sick to his stomach. But then, that appeared to be his new normal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JEZ, SECTOR 1, Day 3
Jez laid on her back on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling and blinking back tears.
It wasn’t fair. She’d been fine before stupid Lev called.
OK, maybe fine wasn’t the word. But still. Crying when you were all by yourself, locked up in a stupid cell, with every damn bruise on your body throbbing, was one thing. Crying over a com was just pathetic.
She rolled over gingerly and scrubbed at her eyes.
Didn’t matter. Anyways, her new cellmate would be here any minute now. Lev had said he had to go, which probably meant they were getting counted and then sent back to their cells.
Sure enough, a moment later she heard from the end of the hallway the click of door locks and the shuffle of footsteps, the muted sound of voices as prisoners shuffled back into their cells.
She couldn’t help the twinge of apprehension in her stomach as the noises moved down the hall towards her.
Probably going to get beat up again. Every muscle in her body hurt at this point.
It was her own fault, probably. She knew it. Maybe she could just keep her mouth shut for once in her life.
But the aching restlessness of too long in too small a space was already making her fingers twitch, her body tense to run or fight.
Every muscle hurt, but getting beat up again couldn’t possibly be worse than one more second of sitting still and doing nothing.
Then there was a click, and the door to her cell swung open.
She pushed herself upright and watched the opening, a tight grin on her face.
Someone stepped through, and the door swung shut behind him, clicking as it latched.
He was a little taller than she was, and maybe a handful of years older. Not muscular, but wiry. He’d be fast, which might be a problem. Still, she was probably faster.
“Hey skinny,” she said lazily, even though her heart was pounding. “They grow people small where you come from, or did your mom get in trouble with a rabbit?”
He turned and looked up at her, his eyes taking her in.
“You’re one to talk,” he said. “You’re so scrawny I mistook you for the blanket.”
She stared at him for a moment, then threw back her head and snorted with laughter. The movement made her bruised ribs ache, and she leaned forward, swearing softly. The man had a broad grin across his face.
“You must be the one they warned me about,” he said, when she’d finished swearing.
“Probably,” she said with a smirk.
“I’m Radic.”
“Jez.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you. I thought they were going to send me someone to beat the snot out of me, what with the gang-war going on outside.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I can if you want.”
He snorted. “Looks like you were on the wrong end of the last beating.”
“Yeah? Well you should see the person I was fighting with.”
She studied him as they talked.
He was definitely bad news. He had a slight scar along the corner of his left eye, and the kind of dangerous grin that meant he was probably full-on crazy.
Still … crazy was something she was good at.
He was watching her too, frowning. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Yep. She’s probably still in the medic’s. For the second time.”
“Who?”
“Vlatka.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh. They weren’t kidding then.”
She gave him a cheery grin. “Probably not.”
He looked up at her calculatingly. “Well. Jez. How about we make a deal? I don’t try to beat you up, and you don’t try to beat me up, and maybe we can both get a decent night’s sleep tonight.”
She slid down from her bunk, swearing loudly when her bruised arm hit the corner of the bed, and stumbled over to the wash basin. She splashed the tepid water on her face and felt around the edges of her bruises gingerly.
The swelling in her eye was starting to go away. That was good. Honestly, the worst part about getting beat up was how damn long it took for everything to get better again.
“Sounds kind of boring to me,” she muttered, squeezing her eye shut to see if that would help. It didn’t. “Been locked up in here all day.”
He gave her a look that was somehow sympathetic. “Hey. I know how it feels.”
“How long you been in here?”
He smiled wryly. “Coming up on four years now.”
She stared at him, unable to hide the horror in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, face softening.
“It’s not that bad. You get used to it.”
“Nah. I don’t think I’d get used to it,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Think I’d actually just die.”
“No. You wouldn’t. Trust me, I
thought that way too. It’s not that bad though. You figure it out. You learn how to keep yourself entertained.”
She smirked at him weakly, fighting back her panic. “That why you were in solitary until they stuck me in with you?”
He gave a slight grin. “Maybe.”
“Hey! Quiet in there!” The guard banged on the bars with his shock stick. She scowled, and Radic watched her for a moment. Finally he put his finger to his lips and gestured to the floor. She dropped down, curious, and he reached under his mattress and came up with a bag of gambling tokens and a small bottle of what looked like laundry soap. She frowned at him. He grinned back and pulled off the cap with a flourish. The sharp scent of alcohol that wafted out was strong enough to make her eyes water.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
He gave her a sly look. “It’s not easy. But when you want something badly enough—” He took a swig and handed it over to her. She sniffed it suspiciously.
“Smells like cat piss.”
He tipped his head, conceding the point. “Tastes a little like it too.”
She took an experimental sip.
He wasn’t wrong.
She grinned at him and lifted the bottle in a salute, and took a generous swallow.
It burned all the way down.
“Now,” she said, handing it back to him. “You know how to play three blind beggars?”
The game got gradually rowdier as the night got later, and they’d both been roundly cursed by the prisoners in the neighbouring cells by the time the guard strode up to their cell door and banged harshly on the bars. Radic managed to shove the chips and the half-empty bottle under the mattress, and they both jumped to their feet.
“What are you two doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jez drawled. The guard lowered his eyebrows.
“Well, you’re both on double work shift tomorrow. Maybe that will help. Shut up in there. If I have to come back again, you’ll be begging for just a double work shift.”
Jez opened her mouth, but Radic said smoothly, “Of course. I am sorry.”
“You should be,” muttered the guard, turning away. Radic shot Jez a warning look, and she stood very still until the guard was out of earshot.
Then they both doubled over in helpless muffled laughter.
Double work shift was probably better than getting beat up. Probably. Jez grimaced as she dipped her rag into the bucket and scrubbed at an unidentifiable something on the rough corridor floors.
Although, honestly, she wasn’t sure the overall effect would be any different. She could already feel the bruises on her knees, and her palms, already raw from her time in the laundry room, were cracked and red.
Radic worked beside her. They’d been working since early that morning, missed the fresh air break and missed breakfast. At this rate, the lunch she’d gambled for the night before wasn’t going to do her any good, seeing as two portions of nothing was still nothing.
“You think they’re going to just starve us to death?” she muttered, softly enough that the guards wouldn’t hear. Radic shook his head.
“They’ll give us lunch.”
“Me lunch. I won yours last night, remember?”
He gave her a pained look. “Cheat.”
She dipped her rag back into the cold, soapy water. “Hey. Easy with the language. You’re the one who trades with the guards.”
He gave her an easy smile. “You do what you have to to survive here, kid.”
“Yeah? So what do you trade?”
He shrugged. “Alcohol.”
“Wait, so you just—”
He sighed, and sat back on his heels. “Look, kid. Here’s the thing. Do you know how this place works?”
She grinned. “Sure. You mouth off to the guards, you go into solitary. You put your cellmate in the medics, you go into solitary. You—”
He was shaking his head, face serious. “Listen to me. This place belongs to Warden Koshelev. And she wants back in with Prasvishoni. So here’s how it works. You have pull in Prasvishoni? You get favours. But you have enemies in Prasvishoni? And they’re important? Kid, that happens and they find you dead in your cell. Or maybe beaten so badly you’re never going to walk or talk again. This is pay to play—your life is worth whatever the warden says it’s worth. So you know what trading with the guards gets me? I stay alive. Because I have enemies in Prasvishoni, and if one of them contacts the warden, well, maybe my good buddy the guard only beats me up a little instead of leaving me dead, because she wants a bottle of my cat’s piss next time she’s on her way off duty.”
“You two! Back to work!” the guard snapped.
They’d almost finished the floor when something made her look up.
The guards in the far corner was watching her intently. It took her a moment, in the dim light, to make out his features.
And then she recognized him.
Zhurov.
She swore softly, something cold settling in the pit of her stomach.
“What is it?” Radic whispered.
“Nothing,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a guard who doesn’t like me.”
Radic glanced up where she’d been looking, then looked back over at her, his face suddenly serious.
“The one in the corner?”
She nodded.
He frowned. “Jez. That’s not good.”
She shrugged lightly, but the cold pit in her stomach didn’t go away.
They finished in time for dinner, but they were marched back to their cell without their evening fresh air.
For a moment Jez thought she might cry. If Radic hadn’t been walking beside her, she probably would have.
One more night without even a glimpse of the sky. She was going to go mad. She couldn’t handle this. She was going to—
“Hey. Jez.”
She glanced over. Radic was looking at her with a pitying smile. She tried to grin back, but it came out weak and shaky.
“Don’t let them get to you,” he whispered. “You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
The guard following behind them as they walked down the empty corridor to their cell stopped at the top of the stairwell, and they heard her speaking to someone.
“Fine,” she said at last, “you take them, then, Zhurov.”
Jez’s heart rate spiked.
She resisted the urge to turn around, but she caught the look on Radic’s face.
He was worried.
“Go on,” the voice behind them said. It was soft with menace. Slowly, Jez started forward, expecting every moment to feel a shock-stick come down across the back of her head.
All down the long hallway she waited, every muscle in her body tense.
Damn.
She wanted to spin around and hit him before he had a chance to hit her. But Radic’s glance held her back.
He was more than worried. He was afraid.
They reached their cell without incident, and the guard beckoned Radic inside.
He hesitated, clearly reluctant. “Zhurov,” he said placatingly. “You and me—”
“Get in,” the guard snapped.
Slowly, Radic stepped through the door.
Jez was alone in the hallway now. She turned to meet the guards eyes. She was grinning despite the fear twisting in her stomach, despite the adrenalin jangling through her brain.
Not like she had anything to lose. He was going to kill her anyways, she could see it in his face.
“Hey friend,” she said. “You miss me?”
He smiled at her, and his smile wasn’t at all pleasant.
“Believe me. We aren’t friends.”
“Oh. Well, fair enough. I don’t make many friends with brush-p—”
He backhanded her so hard she staggered into the wall. Then he leaned in closer.
“I could kill you right here. But I’m not going to, not yet. I want you watching over your
shoulders, every minute of every day. I want you scared. I want you grovelling. I want you to think dying would be better than living like that. And then—” he lowered his voice even farther, so she had to strain to hear. “And then I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong. You’ll die screaming.”
She grinned up at him through her split lip, every muscle in her body tight, brain buzzing with panic and adrenalin. “Guessing you learned how to hit so hard because it was the only way to get people to stop laughing at your face, that right?”
“Shut up!” he backhanded her again, and she barely caught herself on the wall. “Get into your cell before I change my mind.”
“Sure, cap’n,” she mumbled, trying for another cheeky grin as she sauntered through the cell door.
For a moment, she was sure he’d follow and make whatever beating she’d got from her former cellmate look like a kids game.
Never before had the sound of a lock clicking shut been a relief.
But then he leaned in, his face up against the bars. “Here’s the thing, Jez Solokov,” he whispered. “I’ve heard of you. There’s a lot of people want you dead, and they’re willing to pay. But to be honest, I’d do it just for the good time.”
She stared at him as he turned away, heart beating painfully.
How did he know her name?
When he was gone, Radic grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and spun her around. “What the hell, Jez? You remember what I told you? About being patient?”
“Never was good at being patient.” She pressed the side of her fist against her lip to stop the bleeding. Radic swore.
“He’s going to kill you. He doesn’t kid around.”
“Really? I thought he was quite the joker.”
He stared at her, shaking his head in exasperation. Then, slowly, he smiled ruefully, still shaking his head.
“Guess I’m used to being the crazy one. But I think you may have me beat, kid.”
“Just like I did in three blind beggars.” She grinned as best she could through her rapidly-swelling lip.
“You cheated.”
“I just cheated better than you did.”
He sighed. Then he studied her more closely. “What did the guard mean when he said he knew about you?”
