Prison Planet (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 3)

by Jim Rudnick

  “Captain, that was a wonderful intro to Halberd,” Ensign Radisson said as he slowly walked off the sidewalk and almost into the path of a yellow pod that was zipping by, but Bram grabbed him and then pointed back toward the center of the sidewalk.

  They walked together slowly on the almost empty street down to the south end and back through the entrance gate to the Marwick to sleep it off until tomorrow.

  #

  Lying abed, Nusayr glanced at the time display on his night table and saw that he still had more than an hour to await the alarm. Quarters here in the Royal enclave on Max Island were fair. He had his stewards and full privileges as well as a private chef and servers too. With Ansible plugged right into his desk out in the living area, he was actually comfortable, though he’d admit lonely. Still, it had been a calculated risk and one that he’d only lost by a hair. If only, he thought as he remembered back to the day he’d received the Farmers Guild ultimatum on Olbia months ago.

  “Majesty, the guild members are all here and assembled as per your instructions in the large conference room up on the fourth floor. They ... well, they appear to be relatively calm,” the Ramat colonel said with not a single inflection in his voice.

  Tall for an Olbian, he towered over the squad behind him, all spit and polished in their brown-suited uniforms with knee-high glistening boots. He waited and eventually Nusayr looked at him.

  “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll be going up in a few minutes, just waiting for the damn printer to catch up,” he said as he looked at the offending machine tucked on his credenza behind the desk. It sat quietly, then suddenly powered up, and spit out a few more pages, which he added to the pile in front of him. he stapled them all together into a single stack.

  Nodding to the colonel, who had been standing at attention all this time, he rose and followed his lead out the door and down the long hall to the stairs. Moving up the bank of stairs, he thought about taking them two at a time, but he decided this kind of a display might send the wrong message to his guards, so he went up in sync, boots loud on each step. Again, they marched down the hallway up on four, and at the doorway to the large conference room, the squad halted while Nusayr entered, and then they followed him to take up picket duty stations around the room.

  And what a room it was, with its large table that would seat up to forty people, comfortable, big, well-padded chairs that were each set with desk pads, note-taking stationery, and styluses. Ewers of water and soft drinks were on trays spotted around the table, and there was a sideboard against the far wall with coffee urns and pastries. Nusayr nodded to himself. The setup for this meeting was well done, and he’d have to thank his Parliamentary secretary for knowing exactly what to provide.

  Too bad, he thought as he made his way to the head of the table to take his seat, that the Guild members are not as impressed as I am. He didn’t acknowledge the stares of frank distrust and almost but not quite over rudeness, but then that was to be expected. He looked to his right and then left to acknowledge the other members of the Olbia Council of Nine, and then he looked down the long table to the far end and his foe for this meeting, the head of the Farmers Guild and his minions who were mostly simple yes-men. Let the games begin, he thought as he tapped his stylus against the already poured glass of spring water that sat in front of him. Not as good as a real gavel, but this wasn’t going to be a real meeting.

  “Tawhid el-Karimi, you have requested this meeting with the Council of Nine, and I should start this meeting with the caution that this is an unusual circumstance, so we did grant this. One time. There will be no more of these ad hoc meetings, Chairman, do you understand?” Nusayr said with a no-nonsense tone in his voice.

  At the far end of the table, the Chairman of the Guild nodded but said nothing. His face was lined, and it appeared that he had had little sleep in the past few nights. He ran a handful of fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and then wiped his hand on the desk pad in front of him. Nusayr thought the man was surely tired, as the past few weeks had been anything but un-stressful for him and his millions of workers.

  “So, Chairman, the floor is yours—why have you asked for this meeting?” Nusayr said, knowing the answer already, of course.

  The Chairman looked down at the file in front of him but didn’t open it at all. Instead, he looked to his right, out of the large windows and down onto the Farmers Market that lay below. Evidence of that large uprising of students more than a month ago had been cleaned up, and while the Ramat still patrolled the Square in its entirety, the University still seethed as did the press.

  “We have some issues, Majesty,” he said quietly and ignored the big head nods from some of the other members of his party at the table.

  “We realize that the recent uprising of the students and their supporters had to be quelled, but we also feel that the—um, the level that was used was ‘beyond the pale’ as they say. There were deaths. There were many injured who still are hospitalized. There were mass expulsions. And the press on this has been brutal—blaming not the Ramat,” he said as he cast a glance at the colonel who was standing a few feet away at attention.

  He paused and seemed to gather himself.

  “But, Majesty, what this has done is to polarize the Guild. We lost loved ones. We have had sons and daughters come home in tears, their lives and futures destroyed. We have been to funerals, and more, Majesty, and I can tell you we will not live with this. Majesty,” he finished and unconsciously wiped a drop of sweat from his brow.

  He stared down at the desk pad in front of him. He doesn’t want to look at me, Nusayr thought as he waited to see if the man would go on. But he didn’t, so he looked down at the stack of documents that lay in front of him.

  “Chairman, we are lucky in that the head of our Ramat—the planetary head—is right here at this table. General Shihah, it appears that the Chairman and some of his advisers, it appears, have some issues with your stopping of the recent uprising in the Square. Shihah?” he said and turned to the brown-uniformed man at the table.

  “Majesty, the uprising was both unexpected and sudden, and as we all know, it was led by university students who were going to run amok in our Farmers Market. We called an immediate alarm, got our troops to quell these terrorists, and put it down with no more violence than what we received at their hands. Yes, there were some unexpected deaths, and yes, we sent hundreds to the hospitals, but we also know that by responding with a higher level of violence than what we received, we will have prevented any further actions like what happened that day, Majesty,” he said quietly and turned to look directly at the Chairman. His stare was pointed. Nusayr knew no one at the table would ask any questions about what he’d just said, and yet like the rest of the table, he too waited for a response.

  It came but not from the Chairman. Instead, an underling sitting down the table a bit rose, and while he was shaking, he had something to say.

  “That is all lies,” he said, his forefinger though shaking was pointing right at the head of the Ramat.

  “You know, General, that you had troops lying in wait of this event; you know that you had huge SWAT teams and anti-Terrorist teams deployed all in undercover mufti waiting for this student protest. You were waiting for this ... and we know and all of Olbia knows,” he spit out and leaned on the table as he stared at the general.

  The general replied with a single word. “Nonsense.”

  The man sat but the daggers he used as he stared at the general did not go away.

  “Thank you, General,” Nusayr said, “but, Chairman, again I ask, why are you here?”

  Again, he knew but had to act surprised.

  “The Guild has decided that as of midnight today, we will no longer ship any foodstuffs to the Export Port. Any at all. No food will be leaving Olbia over the next noticeable period. None,” he said quietly.

  The room was still. The Council of Nine looked at each other and then to the ruler of Olbia for guidance, and Nusayr took his time answering, toying
with the stylus as he twirled it on the desk pad in front of him. His face was solemn when he looked up at his foe down the table, and he spoke with a degree of finality.

  “Chairman, we appreciate that the Guild controls the growth, harvesting, and shipping of all foodstuffs earmarked to go off-world on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of farmers on Olbia. We also are indebted to the Guild for the huge support to our economy that such an industry—in fact, our singular most important industry is our ability to raise foods for sale throughout the Caliphate. We feed the realm—but according to you, as of now, instead, you will starve our Caliphate citizens. Do I have that correct, Chairman?” Nusayr said in plain tones.

  “Majesty, until the whole handling of the uprising and the Ramat’s over-the-top suppressing of same are addressed, we will not ship one case of lettuce off-planet. We are united, and no threat or retribution will change our stance on this. None,” he said.

  Nusayr knew the whole of the Farmers Guild was in fact behind this sanction, and he was pleased.

  “Fine, Chairman, I do not as yet have an answer for you on this matter, but I do know that the Ramat did what they had to do to prevent the loss of life and property by those student terrorists. We will discuss same, and we may reconvene—you will be notified. And one more thing to realize, Chairman, is that while this issue is Olbia’s issue—in fact, you’ve just made it a problem for the whole Caliphate realm. I will, of course, need to converse with our Caliph, and I’m sure that he will have an opinion on this matter too. I just hope that he will not look at this as a treasonous act.”

  When the word treason was voiced, the Guild members froze and they all stared at the Chairman, who nodded and held up his hand.

  “We mean to speak to that when the Caliph wishes to hear us, and I’d assume as others do too, that this will be quickly, Majesty. We are done, I believe, and we will retire,” he said as he rose, and the Guild members rose and were escorted out of the room by some of the Ramat guards. Nusayr looked at the nine members of his Council and simply said, “Opinions?”

  They all smiled at their leader and a couple even tapped on the table to show their support.

  “Majesty,” General Shihah said, “this was a perfect answer to our issues with the Guild, and their sanctions help as you said they would. Ably done, Majesty,” he said and gave a quick salute.

  Nusayr said not a word but smiled and nodded.

  “We now have two of the four planks of our plan in effect ... but from here, the time line speeds up as the realm will quickly learn that we are no longer exporting food to them. Quicker than perhaps we’ve planned,” he said as he turned to his Parliamentarian Whip. “Muhibb, are all the players in line for the bill next week?”

  “Majesty, we are good to go, with all the parties in sync, and when we make our move, they will follow,” he said.

  As the party Whip, Nusayr knew Muhibb controlled the Parliamentary daily voting dockets, and the bill that much of their future depended upon would be coming up for a vote next week. It had been only an addendum to another larger bill for almost a full year, but it was ready now to be sprung out on its own. It would be the vehicle Nusayr would use to claim Olbia.

  For us, he thought. Olbia needed to be free, to break away from the Caliphate. Free ...

  #

  “Captain Terrance reporting for your Power Plant tour, Captain ... Scott, right?” the Penitentiary guard said as she came to attention at the bottom of the landing ramp of the Marwick.

  “Aye, Captain, it’s Scott, but let’s not stand on protocol, shall we?” Tanner said, his head thick from last night’s big night out. By the time they’d gotten back to the ship, it had been late, and sleep had been rough as he’d tossed and turned for most of the last few hours. And already he wanted a drink. He knew just a little “hair of the dog” would help, but he sacrificed that help and tried to handle it on his own. This time, he thought, is the last time ...

  “Affirmative, Sir. May I ask if this is it?” she said, looking at Tanner and his Adept officer, Bram Sander.

  “Again, aye, Captain, that’s the size of the tour group today. Hopefully we can also get through same in a short amount of time too?” Tanner asked, and as they walked off, the guard nodded to him.

  “Aye, Captain, will take only an hour or so,” she said as they passed through the landing port gate and once again under the barrier boom that was hoisted as they approached.

  Tanner nodded at the Provost Guard and wondered if the one that had been on duty last night had any feedback from allowing the Marwick group to exit the port. As they walked toward the pod that appeared to be waiting for them, Bram nudged Tanner and said, “Hey, a red pod—that’s for us, right, Captain?” he asked the guard.

  “Affirmative, Lieutenant. Red pods only for your use—as you, well, as all of us involved in the care and administration of the convicts use—so yup, that red one is ours. Hope that’s okay, Captain?” she finished off as she moved to the side to allow him to enter the pod first.

  “Fine with us, Captain,” Tanner said.

  He moved up to the front of the pod seating and sat on one side with his lieutenant sitting on the seat opposite his. The guard moved past them both and sat in the front piloting seat and made sure that they were all good to go. Powering up the pod, she spun the wheel to move off into the traffic on the street and drove capably to the center of town, traffic being fairly light this early in the morning.

  At the major corner where the low-security jail met the EL space elevator, she spun the wheel to the right, and they moved through the rest of the city of Andros toward the bridge. As the road rose and became an elevated throughway and then turned into the bridge, Tanner could see much more of the city. It stretched out for what looked like almost a mile toward the huge farms and the Rasp River in the distance. Most of the housing looked like they were well looked after, even though the sizes were both small and large. He didn’t see a single large apartment tower at all, so it looked like the city was all a maximum of only two- to three-story houses and he liked that. This made for better neighborhoods, which made for better citizens too, and Tanner knew both to be true. As the pod now climbed up to become the bridge, he also noted that the roadway turned at the edge of the mainland as no vehicles were allowed on Max Island, other than pods themselves.

  Smart too, he thought. There was no way for any convict to leave the security of the island via a car, truck, or van. Only pods allowed and they were very securely controlled via their color and guards who checked them all. He nodded to the guard who caught his eye in the rear view pilot’s mirror and asked her a question.

  “Captain, has there ever been a successful escape of a convict— from either Max Island or the prison farm behind us? Ever?”

  Although he knew the answer, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “No, Captain, never. Not in ,like, 100 years. Oh sure, there have been attempts made, but not a single convict ever got up the EL or snuck on a ship at the landing port, Sir. Not a one. And scuttlebutt is that the ‘powers that be’ are planning a big 100th Anniversary of No Escapes in a few months too,” she said, glancing at him in the mirror.

  He nodded to her and smiled.

  “Guess it’s a part of being a convict, the attempts, I mean, but good to know that it’s never been successful, Captain. Well done!” he said and smiled back.

  “Um,” Bram said, “those ‘powers that be’ would be the Council, do I have that correct, Captain?”

  Both answered in unison with “affirmative” and then they all laughed loudly.

  They passed over the crest in the bridge that was there to allow bigger ships to pass under easily and saw Max Island just ahead. The bridge met the two-mile-wide island at about the middle with the major part of the prison being on the right-hand side. There were six domed and multi-domed buildings behind the fenced area, further surrounded by high walls. Each, of course, held convict cells, their own kitchens, infirmaries, gyms, and the large walk
ing yards where much convict time was spent.

  General administration was located in the big domed building outside the prison walls, but still behind the fenced area. From where they were on the downward slope to the bridge, they could also see a wide beach of sorts with odd rocks on the sand, some cliff areas but no docks or mooring at all on the left-hand side of the island. The single huge dock was under the bridge and that’s where any visiting boats would moor.

  “The big plant right beside the administration building would be ...” Tanner said as he leaned forward to see ahead.

  “EL Pod Plant where they get made. It’s behind the fence, but, of course, still open for the convict labor force. Look way over left ... you see anyone there near the coast?”

  “Yes, yes, I do. Are those convicts? Are they escaping?” Bram interrupted loudly.

  “Not in the least, Lieutenant. Many of the convicts have full ‘island passes’ which they earn, and that gives them the ability to go anywhere on the island, including swimming on that beach there too. Know why that’s not a problem?” she said almost smugly.

  “Because,” Tanner said, “the waters around the island are always patrolled by your DenKoss security forces—do I have that right?”

  “Affirmative, Captain. It’s about three miles back to Andros, and even if they tried to swim to that point, see there,” she said as she tried to point out the port side, “past those blue buoys and that barge—that’s the mouth of the Rasp River, and yes, the DenKoss are there too. No way for anyone to swim to freedom ... those DenKoss are so dang much faster than any other RIM race that no one would ever get free that way. Oh, and the blue buoys are ‘stay-away’ buoys as they mark the water cages for the few DenKoss convicts we also hold. Again, totally controlled by the DenKoss security forces too.”

  “And the Power Plant would be located in the remains of that volcanic cone at the back end of the island, correct?” Tanner said.

  Even though miles away, it was still the major geographical feature on the relatively flat island.