Prison Planet

by William C. Dietz

  With their minds firmly fixed on showers and the other amenities the station had to offer, both scientists and marines alike were in a hurry to disembark. In fact, Vanessa was the first one out the hatch. He and Marla were being left to fend for themselves. That suggested a high level of either trust or stupidity. Renn thought it was trust, but there was no way to be sure.

  Trying to look bored he scanned the shuttle's Spartan interior for signs of electronic surveillance. He didn't find any. And why should he? The station had no reason to distrust its own personnel and didn't normally invite convicts up for dinner, so security should be minimal, especially aboard the shuttle. Furthermore, they had no way to know he was an experienced pilot, a pilot with a blaster tucked under his left arm, and a derringer in his boot. Yes, it would be easy to lock the hatch behind them, immobilize the incompetent idiot in the control room, and blast off.

  But where would they go? Like most of its breed, the shuttle wasn't equipped with a hyperdrive. It was designed for in-system use only, and was in many ways more a plane than a space ship. It would therefore take multiple lifetimes to reach the nearest civilized planet, assuming be had a limitless supply of fuel and food, which he didn't.

  “You coming Jon?” Jumo was upside down, looking back from the main hatch. He grinned, white teeth sparkling.

  Renn waved. Did the bastard know what he was thinking? If so he didn't seem too worried. The marine waved back, executed a neat somersault, and disappeared.

  Renn turned to Marla and found she was grinning. And like most canine smiles, this one looked more like a leer than a smile. “You were thinking about stealing this tub weren't you? Naughty, naughty. Life as a criminal has warped your mind.”

  Renn laughed as he stripped off his belt and looped it around her middle. “Look who's talking.” Grabbing a handhold, he released his harness, and reached for hers. As she floated free he grabbed hold of his belt and used it as a handle. Zero G isn't easy without hands.

  Doing her best to ignore the sick feeling in her nonexistent stomach, Marla felt both humiliated and pleased at the same time. She hated her own helplessness, but enjoyed the attention, and took special pleasure in the fact that he'd anticipated her situation. The fact that he'd been considering an escape was frosting on the cake. Maybe Vanessa's hold on him was weaker than she'd thought.

  Holding onto Marla with one hand, and pulling himself forward with the other, Renn made his way through the main hatch and into a circular passageway. In the absence of gravity there was no “up” or “down” in the normal sense of those words. Nevertheless, a section of the hoop's inner curve had been left clear of the pipes and conduit which covered every other surface, making it a good candidate for “down.” It also boasted a generous supply of handholds and was clearly intended as a sort of sidewalk.

  Pulling himself along, Renn followed the arrow-shaped green decals, each proclaiming “STATION ACCESS” with boring regularity. He noticed the light seemed to come from everywhere at once and had an artificial yellow glow to it. Renn assumed the warmer light was an attempt to relieve the sterile feel common to so many scientific installations. If so it seemed to work.

  Every thirty feet or so they passed through sets of airtight double doors. Open now, they would automatically seal in case of a pressure loss, and could also serve as emergency airlocks.

  A beeping sound came from behind him, and a half second later a globular maintenance bot shot by, used some compressed air to correct its course, and then vanished around the next curve.

  Meanwhile, Marla knew Renn was towing her around like so much baggage, but was too sick to care.

  A few minutes later they reached an intersection where the green “STATION ACCESS” decals made a right turn. Renn did likewise, pulling Marla in close so she wouldn't bump into anything. About fifteen feet later they arrived in front of another lock. Unlike the emergency locks they'd passed through earlier, this one was larger, and had seen lots of heavy use during the station's assembly phase. It cycled open at the touch of Renn's palm. No fancy security measures here. Anyone with a warm body could get in.

  Pulling himself inside, Renn waited for the outer door to close, and the inner door to hiss open. As it did, a flashing light appeared above it. “ARGRAV AHEAD.” They were about to enter the station proper and, therefore, artificial gravity.

  It felt strange to step out of the lock and into gravity. One moment he was weightless, swimming effortlessly through the air, and the next it felt as if he weighed a ton. But the sensation passed, and since the argrav was less than Swamp normal, Renn found he had an extra spring to his step.

  Meanwhile, Marla's self-confidence and equilibrium had returned along with the gravity, and she felt ready to tackle just about anything. Anything except a large multicolored alien like the one that had just stepped out of a side corridor. It stood about six and a half feet tall, was covered with colorful plumage, and regarded them with large saucer-like eyes as it fiddled with the black box hung round its neck. It opened its maw experimentally and sound came out of the box. “Testing ... testing one, two, three, damned contraption. Can you hear me?”

  “Quite well Far Flier, thank you,” Renn replied, using the traditional Finthian address, appropriate when addressing one of slightly higher rank, on occasions when both parties are far from their ancestral nesting grounds.

  “You know us then,” the Finthian replied, obviously pleased.

  “I cannot claim full knowledge of your honorable race,” Renn said solemnly. “But I have visited the beautiful hanging cities of your home world, and while there, I was systematically cheated of almost every credit I had.”

  The Finthian cackled with laughter. “Truly you know us well. They call me ‘The one-who-flies-to-knowledge,’ but most of the staff just call me ‘Honcho.'” He gave them what might have been the Finthian version of a grin. “That does mean ‘boss’ doesn't it?”

  Renn and Marla looked at each other, and then back at the alien. It didn't make sense, but apparently the Finthian was in charge. “That's what it means all right,” Renn answered.

  “Good. I'd hate to think they were calling me ‘bird brain,’ and getting away with it!” Overwhelmed by his own joke, the Finthian once again broke into cackling laughter.

  It took the alien a while to recover, but when he did, he stuck out a claw-like hand and said, “Sorry about that. You are Jonathan Renn ... and you are Marla Mendez.”

  After he had shaken both their hands, the Finthian said, “Welcome my friends, and thanks for all your help. Without it many more would have died. But enough of that ... you must be tired. Follow me and I will escort you to your quarters.” With that he turned and headed down an evenly lit side corridor. His walk could only be described as a waddle.

  Marla looked at the alien's swaying tail feathers, and then at Renn. They both smiled and managed not to laugh as they followed the Finthian down the hall.

  After many twistings and turnings they arrived at the station's core. It consisted of a vertical passageway connecting all the decks. Clear plastic surrounded the passageway, and inside Renn saw powered lift tubes, plus an old-fashioned ladder. It was meant for emergencies, but later he'd learn the marines had standing orders to use it instead of the lifts. Jumo had a number of favorite expressions, including, “a soft marine is a dead marine.”

  “We're going one level down,” Honcho said, waiting for the next platform to arrive then stepping aboard. Since there was room for only one person at a time, Marla went next. Then it was Renn's turn to step onto a slowly descending disc, wait for a moment, and step out into a comfortably furnished lounge a few seconds later. The lounge was circular in shape. There were five or six people sitting around, including Doc, Lt. Fitz, and Private Ford. They smiled and waved. The others watched Marla with the open curiosity of people touring a zoo. Marla growled, and they all turned away.

  Renn started to say something, but thought better of it, deciding they deserved whatever they got.

 
Choosing to ignore the whole episode, Honcho gestured expansively and said, “This is the lounge, church, and night club all rolled into one. As you can see crew quarters line the outside bulkhead, but they're pretty cramped, so the lounge is in use all the time.”

  Looking around, Renn saw the alien was correct. The circular lounge was surrounded by doors, and since they were quite close together, the compartments beyond couldn't be very large.

  Honcho led them to a door which bore the number “23” and touched the lighted panel set into the bulkhead beside it. As the door hissed open he looked down at Marla. “You'll have the emperor's suite. If he shows up you'll have to move.”

  “Of course,” Marla replied with mock gravity. “I wouldn't think of inconveniencing the emperor.”

  “And for Citizen Renn we have the Galaxy suite, which for reasons unknown, is one full inch wider than any other sleeping compartment aboard.”

  “I will cherish the extra space,” Renn said gravely, adding a half bow. The door slid open at the Finthian's touch. Renn saw the compartment was not only small, but pie-shaped to boot. A standard bunk took up the far bulkhead, with storage above and below. Closed compartments lined the other walls hinting at a variety of concealed conveniences.

  “The mess deck is one level down,” Honcho said. “If you feel up to it we'd like you to join our staff meeting at 1600 station time. That's about four hours from now.” The Finthian was already waddling towards the lift tubes when he said, “Get some rest, I'll see you later.”

  Feeling awkward under the barely concealed scrutiny of the crew—people they didn't know Renn and Marla nodded to each other, and entered their cubicles. Their doors closed behind them.

  Renn found his compartment smelled of disinfectant, as though it had been recently scrubbed, which he realized it probably had. As he stretched out on the bunk he wondered who'd lived in the compartment before him. One of the ill-fated shuttle pilots? Lt. Costello? There was no way to tell, but he had the vague feeling of knickknacks only recently gone, and a personality other than his own. “Some people have even worse luck than I do,” he thought as he hit the light switch next to his head. The air conditioning made a soft whirring sound as he quickly fell asleep.

  As the door started to slide open, Renn came fully awake, rolling onto the deck, his blaster up and ready. He lowered it the moment he recognized Vanessa silhouetted against the outside light. She stopped in her tracks, recovered, and stepped inside. The door slid closed behind her as Renn turned on the lights. “Does Jumo know you have that?” she asked, indicating the blaster.

  Renn shrugged. “Who knows? He didn't search me so apparently he doesn't care. I'm sorry if I scared you but my reactions are still tuned to life on Swamp.”

  She smiled. “It was my own fault. I should have buzzed you first, but the lounge was empty, and I wanted to slip in while no one was looking.” She touched a button and a slender chair unfolded itself from the wall. She sat down.

  Renn took a seat on his bunk. “Would they care?”

  She shook her hair back and away from her face. “No, not if we're having sex, but that isn't why I came.”

  “Too bad. It sounds like fun.”

  Vanessa smiled. “There'll be plenty of time for that if you agree to my proposal.”

  Renn forced himself to look disinterested. “Proposal?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes big and round. “We've done everything we can from orbit. To complete our research we need more information. Information which can only be gleaned on the surface. Yet conditions are so bad on Swamp it takes all one's energy just to stay alive. The marines are good, but they don't know the local ecology, and a lot of us could die before they learn. That's why we need your help.”

  “And Marla.”

  She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “And Marla. So what do you say?”

  Renn ignored her question and asked one of his own. “You've never asked what I did to end up on Swamp. What if I'm an ax-murderer or something?”

  Vanessa smiled. “Are you?”

  Renn laughed. “No.”

  “Well then. Will you do it?”

  Renn did his best to hide his growing excitement. “Well it sounds interesting, but didn't you leave something out? No offense, but what's in it for us?”

  Vanessa laughed. “You're right! I left out the best part! What's in it for you is a full pardon! When our studies are over you could leave Swamp!”

  “The others have agreed to this?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, but if you're willing, I'll propose it at the staff meeting. I think Chin will support, as will Jumo, he knows what it's like down there, the only problem is convincing Honcho.”

  Renn tried to look thoughtful, while his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. A chance to get off planet! Would he do it? Hell yes, he'd do it! Out loud he said, “Well I can't deny that I find your proposal very attractive, but I need to discuss it with Marla. Assuming she approves, the rest'll be up to you.”

  Vanessa clapped her hands in excitement. It reminded him of a little girl getting her way. “Leave everything to me. Just be sure you attend the staff meeting.” And with that she got up, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and slipped out the door.

  Once outside, Vanessa gave a quick look around, didn't see anyone, crossed the lounge and entered her own compartment.

  Marla's door was open only a crack, but it was enough to see Vanessa leave. With the aid of her supersensitive hearing, she'd heard the scientist's arrival, the mumble of conversation and her subsequent departure. While she hadn't heard their actual conversation, the visit told its own story, and it hurt. Even when Renn showed up a half hour later, and told her about Vanessa's proposal, it did nothing to lessen the pain. It did, however, confirm the validity of her earlier suspicions about Vanessa. Maybe she liked Renn, but she was also using him, and doing so in a very calculated fashion. Of course Renn was getting something too. OK, fair enough, Vanessa uses Renn, and he uses her. Everybody ends up happy. Hah! Everybody, that is, except Marla. So they received pardons, so what? Renn and Vanessa would have each other, but what would she have? A lifetime in a dog's body that's what.

  She was still feeling sorry for herself an hour later when the staff meeting began. Except for the skeleton crew on watch, everyone else had gathered on the mess deck. Like everything else the mess deck was circular in design. A bulkhead divided it in two. One side was open, and occupied by the tables and chairs in which they now sat, while the other was sealed off, devoted to recycling, hydroponics, and food preparation.

  Glancing around, Marla recognized Jumo, Chin, Doc, Issacs, Ford, and of course Vanessa, who looked like she'd just stepped out of a fashion holo. There were about fifty others present as well, a mixture of marines, scientists, and technicians. Two of the scientists were Finthians like Honcho. Why Finthians? She made a note to find out.

  Honcho stood, adjusted his translator, and glanced around the room. “Well, it looks like we're all here, no small accomplishment in itself. As you all know by now we have some visitors with us today, people to whom we owe a great debt of gratitude. There are some empty chairs among us, and if it weren't for Citizens Renn and Mendez, there would be many more. We invited them here for some much deserved R & R. I hope you'll do what you can to make their stay as enjoyable as possible. On my home world we would now honor our guests with a ritual sky dance, but since there's only three of us here who know how to fly, and space is somewhat limited, human applause will have to do.”

  Everyone laughed and applauded vigorously. Finally Honcho held up a taloned hand for silence, and said, “At this point our guests are free to leave if they wish, while we discuss such boring but important matters as the continuing maintenance problems with the waste recyclers.”

  Vanessa stood among amused chuckles. “Honcho, I've got a proposal to make, and since it involves our guests I'd like them to stay.”

  Having dealt with other members of Honcho's race, Renn thought h
e detected the slight stiffening of the shoulders, and the ruffling of neck feathers which indicates annoyance among Finthians. Maybe Vanessa had done similar things before, or perhaps Honcho felt she was stepping on his prerogatives, either way it didn't bode well. But if the scientist was annoyed, there was no trace of it in his voice. “Of course. And that being the case, perhaps you would like to make your proposal now?”

  Was there the slightest note of sarcasm in the Finthian's tone? Renn thought so, but Vanessa seemed unaffected. “Thank you, Honcho,” she said, getting to her feet, and turning towards her audience. “As you all know our first attempt at a field study was a total disaster. True, what happened to the shuttle was a freak accident, but after spending some time on the surface I feel sure we would've had serious problems anyway. When you're spending all your time just staying alive, it's hard to get much work done.” She nodded towards Jumo. “And even with the help of our valiant marines, I'm afraid that's the way things are. As Honcho said earlier, if it weren't for Jonathan Renn, we wouldn't be here now.”

  Marla almost enjoyed the slight, reinforcing as it did her low opinion of Vanessa. She noticed that Renn wore a frown. Good. Maybe Vanessa would submarine herself. Meanwhile the female scientist was still talking.

  “Our project is entering a critical phase. In order to confirm our theories field studies are an absolute must. As you know there's only so much we can accomplish from up here, yet as we've learned, it's damned hard to carry out our work down there. So here's my proposal. We hire Citizens Renn and Mendez to act as guides for our field team. Through their expertise we'll be able to avoid a lot of problems and get the job done. Thank you for hearing me out.”

  “Thank you, Vanessa,” Honcho said calmly. “Questions?”

  “Yes, I have a question.” The speaker was a burly man with a full beard and a shaved head. He wore the light blue coveralls of the scientific team.

  “Go ahead, Burt.”

  “Well, not meaning to offend our two guests, but what about their status? It's no secret they're criminals. Can we trust them?”