by R. M. Olson
And now their fears about the prison going into lockdown over it had become completely irrelevant.
“Tae!”
The voice, he realized, belonged to Masha. And she sounded afraid.
He frowned and glanced up.
The courtyard had devolved into a mass free-for-all of fighting, struggling prisoners and guards, and the top of the wall was pandemonium, as guards ran and shouted and bumped into each other, trying to point the wall cannons and at the same time stay out of the way of the Ungovernable’s guns.
But the area where he was crouched was almost empty of people, except for one—a guard. A guard with his heat-gun drawn, and a grim, deadly look on his face.
For half a second, Tae’s instincts screamed at him to run.
But if he ran, he’d lose his control, and he’d lose the guns, and his friends would die. He turned back to his com, grim-faced. Three more cannons. That was all.
If he worked fast enough, he’d make it.
He pressed the controls to fire, and another wall cannon evaporated.
The guard was getting closer, almost in range.
Another cannon vaporized, and he pointed the Ungovernable at the final cannon.
The guard in front of him raised the pistol so it was pointed directly at his head.
He didn’t look up. He didn’t have the time. He let loose a final blast from the ship, then, hands trembling, set the controls to hover the Ungovernable, keeping her in the air, so when he got shot, the ship wouldn’t crash. He couldn’t do that to Jez.
Even though she wouldn’t be able to kill him now.
He felt surprisingly calm as he lowered his controls and looked up into the barrel of the heat gun.
He’d assumed he was going to die, from the moment they’d set foot inside the prison. But this time, he’d actually won. He’d saved them—at least, he’d given them a chance.
He thought, somehow, that Caz and Peti, back on Prasvishoni, would have been proud of him.
“Step away from him.”
Ysbel’s voice was hard and cold and flat. He glanced over in sudden, desperate hope.
She was too far away to get to him in time, but she was holding the dummy weapon, and it was pointed directly at the guard.
The guard looked at her, and gave a grim smile.
“I was the one who confiscated the weapons,” he said, voice hard. “I know that’s not a real gun.”
Tae blew out a breath, hope fading back into that strange calm.
He almost smiled. It was honestly amazing they’d gotten as far as they had on this bluff.
The guard turned back, steadying his gun.
Then the air around him shimmered with heat, and the guard’s eyes went wide. The smell of singed flesh and hair thickened the air. Slowly, the gun fell from the guard’s nerveless fingers, and slowly, face still frozen in an expression of shock, he tumbled forward to land on the dust of the courtyard.
Tae stared at the man lying on the ground in front of him. Then he turned and stared at Ysbel.
She looked down at her gun with a satisfied air.
“What—” Lev began, in a shocked voice.
“He did confiscate the weapons,” Ysbel said. “But, he didn’t confiscate the one that was left in the guards’ room.”
“You were carrying that since we left the guards’ room?” Tae asked, voice weak with stupefaction. “And you didn’t use it?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t need to until now.”
Tae looked back at the guard, lying face-down two metres away from him.
He realized, suddenly, that he needed to lean against the wall or his legs were going to give out on him.
Around him, people shouted and cheered, but the noise sounded somehow distant.
On the walls, the prison guards were still scrambling about in confusion, but the warden stepped forward.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her weapon over her head so they could all see it, then lowered it to the ground in front of her and stepped back.
Masha nodded in satisfaction, and the cheers grew deafening. Tae stared around him bemusedly. Then someone put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up. Ivan stood there, smiling broadly.
“Well, Tae,” he said quietly. “It appears you’ve done what you said you’d do.”
Tae tried to smile back, and found for the strangest reason there were tears in his eyes instead, and a thick knot of happiness in his chest that almost made it hard to breathe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LEV, DAY 12
Lev stared around him. The guards on the wall were following the example of the warden, lowering their weapons.
“We’ll talk,” shouted the warden from the top of the wall. Masha nodded, and the woman made her way down into the courtyard.
Lev tapped his com on a private channel. “Ysbel. Can you watch Jez? I’m going with Masha, to make sure she doesn’t agree to anything crazy.”
“Of course,” said Ysbel. “Is she still conscious?”
He glanced back at Jez and clenched his teeth. She was leaning up against the wall, but her face had gone very pale, and she looked like she might throw up.
“Yes,” he said shortly. He tapped off his com and crossed over to her. “Hey. Jez,” he said softly. Her eyes were closed, but she forced them open with an obvious effort.
“’S?”
“I have to go take care of something. Ysbel’s going to be here until I get back, OK? And then we’ll get you somewhere where you can lie down.”
“Mm.”
He studied her for a moment, chest tight.
“Go on,” said Ysbel, from behind him. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
He nodded tightly, then turned and strode off to join Masha. He caught Radic’s eye on the way over and gestured him to follow. The man disentangled himself from a crowd of celebrating prisoners and hurried over.
“Get Ivan and come over,” said Lev in a low voice. “I’d like you all to be part of whatever Masha’s negotiating.”
Radic nodded his understanding and slipped away.
With the three of them present with Masha, the negotiations were short and simple. The warden noted the prisoners would die if they left, and that she couldn’t override the chips without an authorization key from Prasvishoni, even if she’d wanted to. Masha suggested that, since that was the case, the woman should have no concerns about letting herself and the other guards be locked safely in the cells, as it would certainly be no more than temporary. The warden countered that she’d prefer her people not be killed by angry prisoners as retribution. Masha was not overly sympathetic, but seemed to imagine that as long as the guards went quietly, it wouldn’t be much of a problem.
With the exception of one particular guard, Lev put in.
With the exception of one particular guard, Masha amended.
In the end, the warden didn’t have much of a choice, and she knew it. Lev watched in grim satisfaction as Radic and Ivan directed prisoners to lead the guards into cells and lock them in, after first removing the key chips from their coms.
“How long until help comes,” Lev asked the warden bluntly.
“I don’t—”
He stepped closer. “Listen to me. I’m not in a very good mood right now, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t play games. How long?”
She took one look at his face and gave a sigh of resignation. “About six standard hours.”
“Thank you.” He glanced at his com. “I hope you’re telling the truth. Because I’m gong to ask my friend to set explosives at the door to each of your cells. She’ll disable them in five and a half standard hours. And if anyone should try to get through the prison walls prior to that, they’ll go off.”
The warden paled. “I—That is, my understanding is that—”
He leaned closer, a slight smile on his face. “Your understanding had better be correct, then, warden.”
“I—you’d risk killing us all if my calculations are off?”
He smiled a little wider, but there was no humour in it. “Well. You were willing to kill two children, horribly, because you didn’t want them to be a bother. And you were willing to let one of your guards beat my friend almost to death because you thought the guard was useful.” He paused a moment. “Do you know how it feels to be beaten almost to death? If you’re interested, I’m certain I could arrange something.”
She shook her head rapidly.
“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t. So—” he shrugged. “Yes. I’m comfortable taking that risk.”
As a small group of prisoners led the much-subdued and slightly pale warden off towards a cell, he noticed her talking very quickly on her com.
Whether she’d been telling the truth about the timeline before or not, he was now relatively certain that no one would show up at the prison gates prior to six standard hours from now.
Masha was watching him, one eyebrow raised. He glared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said with a faint smile. “I was only thinking that you have more capacity for intimidation than I would have imagined.”
“Trust me, Masha” he said through his teeth, “that was not intimidation. That was explaining the damn future.”
“I see.” She was still smiling slightly. “And now, shall we call Tae? It appears that we have about two thousand people we need to break out of prison.”
Tae brought the Ungovernable down gently into the courtyard. Jez, who was now almost incoherent from pain or painkillers or both, still managed to curse Tae fluently until the ship had come to a rest. Then she slumped back against the wall, whimpering quietly.
Lev glanced over his shoulder at her, gritting his teeth.
“Masha. Can you fly her?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. Despite what Jez may think, I am a fairly experienced pilot.”
“Alright. Tae, how many do we need to get over the wall at once to short it out?”
Tae frowned. “Anything over a hundred should do it, I think,” he said at last. “I would say a group of two hundred to be safe. We’ll have to pack people in. The ship’s force field will level out the effect of the shock-chip, so variances in height of the prisoners won’t make a difference.”
“Good. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s start—”
“Lev.”
He turned quickly. Ysbel had a concerned look on her face. “I think you’d better come over here,” she said.
He drew a breath and crossed quickly over to where she was standing beside Jez.
“She’s asking for you,” Ysbel said quietly.
“Jez.” He hesitated, then put a hand gently on her shoulder. “Jez, what do you need? Are you alright?”
The bruises on her face were swollen and misshapen, and the front of her uniform was streaked with drying blood. She managed to blink her eyes open, and the corner of her mouth twisted up in a gruesome approximation of a grin.
“Hey genius-boy,” she whispered.
“Jez. What is it?” he asked.
“You know,” she began with an effort, her voice so quiet he had to lean in to hear her. “There’s a split in the butt of your pants.”
He stared at her for a moment. Then Ysbel gave a badly-concealed snort of laughter.
“There is, you know,” she said, when she’d recovered herself. “You must have been very intimidating, since I didn’t notice until just now.”
He turned and glared at her, tugging his jacket down to cover it. Jez made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh. Then she swayed slightly, eyes rolling back into her head, and collapsed.
Lev swore and dropped to the ground beside her.
“Ysbel. Help me. Masha, get a first aid kit, now,” he snapped.
Jez’s eyes were closed, her body limp. He pressed two fingers frantically against the side of her throat. His hands were shaking, he noticed vaguely.
There was a pulse—weak and rapid, but there. He let out a long breath, shoulders slumping in relief.
At least she was still alive. Although you wouldn’t know to look at her.
Ysbel knelt at Jez’s other side, and a moment later, Masha appeared with a first aid kit from the ship.
Ysbel carefully straightened Jez’s broken arm, then ran the medi-scaner down the back of her head and neck and down the sides of her torso.
“Broken arm, at least four broken ribs,” she muttered to herself. “Her neck is fine, I think, but then again, if it hadn’t been, we’d have known by now.” She ran the scanner along Jez’s bruised, swollen face and shook her head. “Her jaw is broken too. I’m not surprised. Actually, I’m surprised she stayed on her feet for as long as she did.”
She pushed herself to her feet. “We’ll get her on a stretcher and get her into the med bay. I’m no doctor, but I should be able to—”
Lev stood and grabbed one of the prisoners by the arm.
“Get me Ivan. Right now,” he said. Something of what he felt must have shown through his voice, because the woman obeyed with remarkable haste. A few moments later, Ivan stood in front of him.
“I need a doctor. And I expect the best damn doctor in this damn prison, and I don’t care whether they’re a prisoner or a damn guard.”
Ivan looked at Lev, then down at Jez, and nodded, just a hint of amusement in his face. A few moments later, he returned with a woman in a prison uniform, with a weary, competent face.
“Here you are,” said Ivan. “This is Lucic. She used to be one of the top surgeons in Prasvishoni, until she got thrown in here. The guards still use her if someone gets badly injured.”
“Have you practiced recently?” Lev snapped. The woman nodded.
“I did a major surgery three weeks back, and I’m in the med bay here almost daily.” She paused, her voice sharpening slightly. “If I understand correctly, my last two weeks of work were largely contributed to by this woman.” She glanced down at Jez, and her face softened slightly with concern.
“A beating?” she asked.
“Zhurov,” he said shortly. She nodded, face grim, and knelt beside the fallen pilot, performing the same checks that Ysbel had, then stood back and gestured Ysbel forward with the stretcher. Ysbel lowered it beside Jez, and between them, the two women lifted the unconscious Jez onto the stretcher. Jez didn’t even stir.
“Has she had anything since the beating?” Lucic asked.
“Yes. Painkillers.”
“What kind?”
He glanced at Masha.
“Halprenal,” said Masha. The surgeon raised an eyebrow, and so did Lev.
“How many?”
“Two. It was the only way to keep her on her feet.”
Lucic shook her head. “Your pilot must have a head like a swamp ox. I’m surprised she could stay on her feet after two halprenal.”
“That’s because you don’t know Jez,” Lev muttered. Lucic cracked a slight smile.
“I’m beginning to believe that.”
“I’m not saying you should,” offered Ysbel, “but if you do get a chance to wire her mouth shut, I’m not going to complain.”
Lev glared at her. “Ysbel. As I recall, the only reason she’s in this position is because she was trying to save your life.”
Ysbel looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I understand that. And I will always be grateful to her. But don’t tell me that if we have the chance to wire her mouth shut, you would choose to not wire her mouth shut.”
He sighed and turned back to Lucic. “Do what you need to do. But please, do it in the least invasive manner possible. She saved a lot of lives today.”
“And believe me, she isn’t going to let any of us forget it,” Ysbel muttered.
Masha stepped forward, and she and the surgeon lifted the stretcher gently. Lev gritted his teeth as he watched them walk into the ship.
He needed to stay here. He’d been responsible for this, at least partially, and someone needed to make sure everything—
“Lev.” He turned. Ivan s
tood there, watching him in slight amusement. He gestured with his chin to the Ungovernable. “Go on. Tae and Radic and I will take care of the rest of it.”
He hesitated. “I don’t—”
“Go on,” Ivan said gently, his smile broadening slightly. “I think you’ve done more than enough. The rest of us can take a turn now.”
Lev glanced around indecisively, then finally he shook his head and sighed.
He wasn’t going to be much good to anyone anyways, at this point.
Ysbel, on his other side, smirked at him and leaned over. “I think everyone on this planet knows how you feel about that crazy pilot woman now. Except maybe the crazy pilot woman.”
He glared at her. Then he shook his head ruefully, and followed Jez into the ship.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AFTER
“Masha.”
She glanced over from her seat beside a small table, pushing aside the holoscreen on her com where she’d been studying a long list of document from a chip. Tae stood at the door to the main deck. His face was lined with exhaustion, but he looked happier than she’d seen him in a long time.
She was mildly surprised at the weight of relief the thought brought her. Perhaps two weeks in a cell with the street-boy had done something to her.
The thought was not entirely comfortable.
“Yes Tae?” she said, in a pleasant voice. She knew him well enough by now to see the slight narrowing of his eyes that meant he was re-evaluating how terrifying he found her. She smiled to herself.
“The last of the prisoners are off,” he said. “Turns out enough of the prisoners knew tech that if I gave them the basic hack I’d created, they could help with the rest of the ships. They’re all short-haul, but—” he shrugged. “It’s better than prison.”
“They have provisions?”
“Enough for a couple weeks. We scrubbed all the ships, and we’re close enough to the outer rim that even when the government comes after them, they’ll probably be able to lie low.” He shrugged, and gave a faint smile. “Anyways, isn’t that what our system was built on anyways? Political prisoners, religious exiles, and some stubborn dirt-eaters?”
