“Speak up!” the fighter said.
“Yes... yes it’s true.”
The fighter smiled sardonically at the auctioneer, who nodded.
“Well, take away your prize then.”
While the crowd erupted in applause, the fighter replaced his shiv into his bootleg and grabbed Mike by the neck, leading him down the stairs and to the blond. Mike glanced up at the remaining fish on the podium, seeing Jared’s expression. He looked far less cocky than when they’d arrived.
“Thought you said longer,” the blond said.
“How long was it?” the fighter asked.
“Counting or not counting the dance?”
The fighter chuckled and continued up the stairs, while Mike tried to guess what part of a conversation he’d missed. A bet on how long it would take to win him?
They stopped as a round of applause, lacking so much enthusiasm it resembled a mockery, sounded. The crowd of prisoners parted and a man with a haggard face came into view, still clapping. Everyone kept quiet and Mike swallowed painfully around a constantly growing lump of fear.
“That was quite a show. You definitely did the job thoroughly,” the man said and stopped clapping.
“Anything worth doing is worth doing right,” the fighter said, not easing his grip on Mike’s neck. The man stared at the fighter for what seemed like ages. He then nodded his head, smiling satisfied.
“True. So merc... remind me of your name.”
Mike cleared his throat, but no words seemed to form in his mouth. The fighter squeezed his neck painfully.
“Matthews, Mike Matthews,” he answered, strained.
“Ah yes, Mike Matthews,” the man said, closing the gap between them to get a closer look. Mike shuddered. “Keelan, take him to my quarters and wait for me.”
“Yes, sir.” The fighter turned.
“Oh, and Keelan. Don’t sir me. I’m carrying neither a badge nor a uniform. It’s either boss or Rainer,” he said, giving Keelan a stern look.
“Yes, Rainer.”
“No apologies,” Rainer said after a short silence. “I like that.” Rainer turned to find his place by the railing again, ignoring Mike and Keelan.
“Hey, Sal,” Keelan said. “Where are his quarters?”
The blond smiled and held out his arm.
The corridors were dim, the walls a rugged stone surface, and unexpectedly the cells didn’t have bars. They were more like rooms unevenly scattered down the corridors. The rooms had doors, some more suitable than others—some hanging askew and unable to close, others full of holes, and others again hanging on hinges so rusty they could snap at any moment. The prisoners were left alone, and the guards looked on from the big window as if the prison nothing more than an ant-farm.
Sal opened a door and showed them in, but he left them immediately. Mike looked around the big cell and chose to sit on an old chair.
“What’s gonna happen?” Mike asked when the silence became too much and he ran out of things to study near Keelan so he could study Keelan closer without being detected.
“Dunno.” Keelan leaned by the door. Mike noticed, to his irritation, that he was constantly moving and fumbling nervously with his hands. Irritated to find that he couldn’t stop either, he finally sat on his hands so he only had to concentrate on keeping his legs still.
“What are you, his bodyguard?” Mike asked. Keelan looked up, but didn’t answer. “The auctioneer said something about you being a fish. How long have you been here?”
Keelan still didn’t look like he was going to answer.
“Three months,” he finally said. “I came in with the last batch.”
“So now that we’ve arrived, you’re promoted to shark?”
Keelan laughed wryly and looked at Mike, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.
“Even in a sea like this, there are more carnivores than just sharks. But you’ll learn that quickly enough.”
Mike felt irritated by the fact that Keelan didn’t give him the information he was hoping for. But since Keelan was finally talking, Mike continued his line of questions.
“How long have you worked for Rainer?”
Keelan shrugged, not meeting Mike’s eyes. “Not long. A guy like Rainer doesn’t fight his own fights. I won my freedom in the arena that first day, and you can be sure to see him there. Front row, and he’s not there for the popcorn.”
“So you’re a lackey,” Mike concluded, but looked away as Keelan sent him a warning stare. “The auctioneer said I belong to you, but then you spin and I belong to Rainer?”
“Everything goes through Rainer.”
Mike stared at Keelan a long time, but he didn’t seem to want to elaborate. No matter what, the situation couldn’t be good, since they both knew he was a merc. That would also mean they knew that it was usually the law he sold his services to and not just anybody. He would collect the ones the regular lawmen like bounty hunters couldn’t or didn’t dare to go after. But this was different. There he was without backup, without weapons, and grotesquely outnumbered! Keelan alone was to be counted as two men, since he was not just a beefy thug—he was agile, flexible, experienced, and very quick. On top of that he seemed to possess a morbid talent for murder. Mike estimated Keelan to be somewhere in his late twenties, so they were roughly the same age. So young, and already an experienced killer.
Mike sucked in air for his next question.
“Sit still and shut up. You’re stressing me out. Relax, you’ll figure it out sooner or later, anyway.”
Mike once again tried to concentrate on not fumbling, rocking or otherwise sit uneasily while also trying not to stare at the man who’d just killed someone to get him.
The corridors grew noisier and Keelan walked halfway out the door, but he never turned his back completely on Mike. Keelan came back in and sent Mike a side long glance. Rainer and five men, one of them being Sal, came through the door, and Mike recognized them as the five people who’d been standing closest to Rainer by the railing. He also noticed that all five wore the same bright green band on their right upper arm.
Rainer stopped and looked at Mike. For some reason, he seemed more terrifying than Keelan. Maybe it was the brutal and ruthless glint in his brown, unyielding eyes? Rainer closed the gap between them and stared at Mike, who suddenly felt very small and alone. But he hid it as best he could. Rainer was physically imposing—muscular at almost six and a half feet tall and thus several inches taller than Mike. His short and trimmed beard was graying, but his semi-long hair was still black.
“Keelan, would you be kind enough to return to your cell. I need to talk with the merc here,” Rainer said without taking his eyes off Mike. Keelan left them. “Do you know what you’re worth in here?” Rainer waved Mike to his feet. “Do you know what you’re worth among those barbarians out there? Or, what your job description makes you worth?”
“Worth more alive than dead?” Mike asked. Rainer laughed humorlessly.
“Well, alive doesn’t necessarily mean in one piece, does it.”
Mike bit down so hard his jaw hurt while he mourned the fact that he hadn’t had the chance to empty his bladder since the holding cells. Doing so on Rainer’s shoe would hardly turn the negotiations in Mike’s favor.
“Young, blond beauty. Keelan was right,” Rainer whispered in an unmistakable tone. Mike fought to suppress a shudder. “Nothing in life is for free and... between you and me we could make a deal.”
“What kind?”
“Hmm, I need something, and you will never mention this to Keelan,” Rainer whispered. Mike shook his head vigorously. “I give you to Keelan and all you’ll have to do is keep him... satisfied... occupied. You become his, and he’ll take care of what’s his. That’s just the kinda guy he is. But if you don’t, then you’ll be mine again. And you’ll be rented out!”
Mike’s brain force-fed him images, normally only to be found in one’s worst nightmares, while contemplating his options. Bad or very bad. For some reason Keelan seem
ed like the easy way out.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?” Rainer pressed Mike’s head into the wall.
“Okay, I’ll keep him occupied.” Mike hated his own weakness, but there were not a lot of alternatives—if he didn’t want to die a slow death, that was.
“Good.” Rainer turned and left the cell. Sal sat on a chair on the opposite side of the room, looking at Mike with eyes full of pity. Mike looked away.
Chapter Two
Rainer and Keelan appeared in the door shortly after.
“Come on, merc,” Keelan said, patting his thigh as if he was calling a dog to heel. Mike looked up and went to Keelan’s side. “Time to learn a new set of rules.”
Silently Mike followed Keelan through the halls and they entered a cell on the same floor as Rainer’s.
“Get up, you’re moving,” Keelan ordered a man as soon as they entered the cell. The cellmate looked at him confused. “Now!”
“Where to?”
“Fuck if I care. You need help?” Keelan growled off handedly. The cellmate shook his head wide-eyed as he gathered his few belongings and disappeared from the cell.
“What are you gonna do with me?” Mike asked. Keelan turned and looked him up and down. Mike felt naked and exposed and was unable to suppress a shudder. Keelan laughed, low and mischievous, but he didn’t answer. “Who’s this Rainer?” Keelan still didn’t answer. “Come on, am I just going to be some decoration on a wall?”
Keelan finally turned to look at Mike and smiled in a way Mike couldn’t tell what it meant. Enjoyment, amusement... mock?
“Or in my bed,” Keelan finally said.
Mike froze and gave up any attempt to hide anything behind façades anymore. He wasn’t sure he could take this guy one on one, and the fact that he was the right-hand man of the boss of Delta Zeich did not exactly guarantee that a win would be without retaliation.
“Tell you what, you tell your story, maybe I’ll tell you mine,” Keelan said, taking his eyes off Mike again.
Mike almost collapsed from relief. “Well, you already know that I’m a merc. Bounty hunter some call it, but—”
“But there’s a small difference, I know.” Keelan plopped down on a chair and Mike followed suit, perching on the edge of a table. “Bounty hunters only collect for the law, you collect anyone the highest bidder asks you to, correct?”
“Yeah,” Mike said hesitantly, not sure he liked the generalization. “That and a past in a uniform. Anyway. I went after a target, killed the wrong guy during the capture. It was an accident, but—”
“Never heard of a merc being trialed for something like that.”
“It was the judge’s nephew.”
Keelan turned to look at him with a growing smile.
“And that’s the kind of law and justice you work to uphold? Or was it just the money?” Keelan asked. Mike looked at him irritably. “How long did you get?”
“Ten,” Mike spat.
Keelan chuckled.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” Mike burst out, getting up. Keelan spun, grabbing his shiv in the process. Before Mike was even on his feet, Keelan had him pressed against the wall by the throat and a shiv dangerously close to his cheek. Mike tried to remain still, even when Keelan lowered his head and inhaled deeply through the nose.
“Rule number one, you do what I say. Maybe you’ll make it all ten years.”
“And rule number two?” Mike croaked, trying to swallow under the weight of Keelan on his throat. Keelan laughed a deep rumbling laughter.
“We’ll get to that,” Keelan said, releasing Mike who fell to his knees, gasping for air. “What made you go for the merc business, anyway?”
“Do you really think I intend on telling you that?”
“I know I can make you. You have heard that nothing in here is for free, right?”
Mike’s brain once again force-fed him images and he looked away.
“I have nothing to offer you.”
“You mean nothing I can’t take for myself,” Keelan corrected him, and the gravity of the situation finally sank in.
“What do you want from me?” Mike asked, sighing despondently.
“Finish your story,” Keelan said calmly, straightened the chair and sat. Mike tried to pick up where he’d left off, but at that moment the world seemed to crumble away around him. All chances were out of his reach, and for the first time in his life, giving up seemed like a good idea. He had no defense. He raised his gaze to Keelan’s.
“Let’s make a deal, just you and me,” Keelan said, leaning forward. Mike felt a spark of hope. “As a merc, you’re bound to have learned something useful. Tell me about it and I won’t pass you around as a party favor.”
Mike looked down, once again contemplating his situation. Actually, he was surprised that Keelan didn’t force an answer out of him. He had nothing to lose, unless Keelan didn’t keep his word. If there was honor among thieves, he was about to find out. Mike looked up, nodding his head. Keelan looked expectantly at Mike.
“I was a soldier, served six years on one of the Spec Edit ships. I was part of an elite unit tracking down AWOL soldiers. Had an honorable discharge and got taken on by a group of mercs. They needed a fifth and I needed the money. Caught three high profilers before I ran into that kid in a part of town he wasn’t supposed to be in. I was blamed and they threw me in here to keep a lid on the fact that the judge’s nephew was buying trannies.”
“Trannies?” Keelan asked.
“Yeah, you know—dick and a boob-job.”
“I know what it is. Who was the judge?”
Mike snorted, getting more comfortable on the floor.
“Judge Carl Claiborne.” A silence dominated for a short while. “Look, I’m not sure what exactly it is you want from me. I mean, you can clearly take care of yourself. What else can I teach you? To keep me safe, I mean.”
“I dunno. How about everything they taught you on that Spec Edit ship?”
“That’s gonna take a while,” Mike snorted.
“You going somewhere?”
Mike looked at him full of disbelief.
“You keep me safe in here and I’ll teach you what I know. Don’t know what you want with it, but I’ll teach you.”
Keelan studied him for a while.
“I’ll keep you safe, and you teach me everything you learned both as soldier and as a merc,” Keelan said, holding his gaze. Mike got up and extended his hand. Keelan shook his hand—they made their deal and wasted no time.
Mike taught, Keelan listened and beat up the ones trying to get to Mike. Rainer didn’t seem to care, and as Mike learned more about him, he’d be happy as long as Keelan stayed fit and capable to do his job. His job proved to be three jobs so far. The specifics of those three jobs, Keelan kept to himself. Mike didn’t mind that he had to play an obedient slave to Keelan when they were outside the cell either, and he followed Keelan where ever he went.
As the weeks passed Mike felt less and less nervous around Keelan. He was still scary—especially his constantly calm persona and self-control. That personality trait made Mike curious to know more about him. So far, he knew nothing of the man what-so-ever—only what he was able to read from the codes of his rap sheet tattooed on his left upper arm. The word LIFE and the code for three murders on the planet Verion four were at the bottom.
The day had passed as so many others as they entered the canteen and picked up their lunch. They sat at their usual table where Keelan sat with his back to the wall closest to the exit. He always had a discreet but observant eye on everyone in the canteen. It hadn’t even been necessary for Mike to teach Keelan that paranoid but crucial skill. Prison had already provided him with it and then helped hone it to perfection. Mike also noticed that his attention never left the center of the canteen. Discreet glances in reflections revealed the reason—Rainer and his followers always sat in the center, and Keelan always kept a discreet eye on them.
All of a sudden Keelan tippe
d the contents of his metal tray onto Mike’s, jumped onto the table, and then leaped from one table to the other with the tray under his arm. Mike stood up on his chair to gawk after Keelan. Two tables from Rainer, Keelan threw his tray as he would a Frisbee. Mike had time to see a man approaching Rainer with a knife raised for attack. The tray hit its target, disarming the man with a loud crack of bone breaking and the knife disappeared in between the legs of the surrounding prisoners.
Keelan pulled out his own shiv, put it between his teeth and landed next to Rainer, grabbed his collar, and lifted him out of his chair. Keelan then swung the chair over the table, taking down a second attacking prisoner. The third and last attacking man hesitated at the sight of the second attacker’s blood spewing across the tables and the cons sitting there. The hesitation became his downfall. Keelan made a quick and precise movement—everything went quiet.
Mike recognized the three men. They went by the name Blood Brothers and had sworn loyalty to one another after having mixed their blood. The last Blood Brother looked around confused before looking down at the mess of entrails hanging from his stomach to the floor. An indefinable noise escaped him along with a series of blood bubbles.
Keelan put the chair down and made a gesture for Rainer to take a seat. Rainer smiled and sat, while Keelan kept his eyes on the dying man, now trying to put his entrails back through the open gash in his stomach.
“Maybe you should get that looked at. You don’t look to well,” Keelan said without feeling. The first Blood Brother had gotten to his feet, holding his fractured arm close. He stared between Keelan and his Blood Brother, but finally seemed to decide where his loyalty lay. He picked up the second moaning Blood Brother and left the third one gaping after them in despair. He finally fell over and drew his last breath. Keelan turned to look at Rainer.
“This doesn’t count for one of the three, you know,” Rainer said.
“I figured as much,” Keelan said, turning to leave.
“Are you not even going to make a demand for it?” Rainer asked, getting up to follow him. “Nothing’s for free, remember?”
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