by Piers Platt
“My name is Captain Peshai. I’m the warden of this ship,” the warden began. “And for the time being at least, you are all in my care. The goal of the Corrections Department is to determine whether any of you are capable of reforming, and if you are, to give you the tools you need to avoid offending again. In other words, we aim to rehabilitate you – all of you. But the only person who can determine whether you get a second chance or not … is you. Your actions in the months and years ahead will decide that. We can’t do it for you.”
Falken saw the vidscreen behind Peshai turn on, and an animated version of the UNCS Sydney appeared in orbit over Earth. “In a few minutes, each of you will be sedated for a period of several months. During that time, this ship will transport you to the colony of New Australia.”
Falken flinched as the medical tech inserted a needle into his arms.
“Sorry,” the tech whispered.
Falken looked up again – the video showed cartoon inmates picking crops under the watchful gaze of surveillance drones. “Think of New Australia as a trial run for reintegration, for life as a free man again,” Peshai said. “You will be under observation at all times, but corrections officers only intervene when it is absolutely necessary. Join the community there, help your fellow prisoners, and in time, you may earn your parole.”
Everyone paying attention? Falken thought. ‘Cause he just told you how to get out of here.
Peshai looked up, surveying the room. For a brief instant, his eyes fell on Falken.
“Good luck,” the warden said. Then he pushed off the floor, and floated over to the exit.
Falken turned to see his medical tech push down the plunger on a syringe connected to his intravenous line.
“Hibernation drugs,” the tech explained. “Just let yourself relax and fall asleep. Don’t try to fight it.”
“I won’t,” Falken said, and closed his eyes.
* * *
“What the hell’s going on?”
Falken started awake. The room was dark, and he could hear wind whistling through the cracks in the walls.
Falken shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from the hibernation drugs. His mouth was dry, but the fuzzy feeling in his head faded after a few deep breaths. He felt a sharp jerk, and then his seat seemed to sway beneath him.
There goes the parachute.
“Hello? Is anyone else awake?” one of the inmates across the room asked.
Falken let his eyes adjust to the dark – after a moment, he saw the man who had spoken fumbling with his seat harness.
“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” he said.
“I’d stay seated if I were you,” Falken told him, as the man climbed out of his chair.
“Oh yeah, big guy? Why’s that?” the man sneered.
The crate slammed into the ground, and the man tumbled to his hands and knees, cursing.
That’s why, Falken thought, calmly unbuckling his harness. He stood and turned to the wall behind his seat, and kicked hard at the wooden slats, methodically widening a hole large enough to fit through. Then he climbed out of the crate, pushing aside the silk of a parachute and straightening up. On the far side of the clearing, Falken saw a stand of spiral-shaped trees, their lower trunks smooth and white. In the distance, he heard the warbling cry of a female blue-ball.
He took a deep breath, and smiled despite himself.
Oz. Son of a bitch.
“Where the fuck are we?” an inmate asked, emerging from under the parachute.
“Landing zone four,” Falken said, without thinking.
“What?” the man asked, frowning. “What are you talking about, ‘landing zone’? Where’s the damn space elevator?”
About three miles that way, Falken thought. What’s left of it.
He turned slowly in place, taking his bearings. Okay, the facility and ruined space elevator are that way … no sense going there. Weaver should be at the colony. But I want to check something else out, first.
Behind him, two more men emerged from inside the crate. Falken glanced back at them, then started in surprise.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me …
Auresh’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Falken. Beside him, Cadellium straightened up, frowning. Then he, too, recognized Falken.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Auresh asked.
Maintain the illusion, Falken told himself. “Got into some trouble back on Harrison’s after the trial,” Falken lied. “Why? What are you in for?”
Cadellium sneered at him. “You know damn well.”
Auresh put his hand on the older man’s arm. “That’s okay,” he said. “No sense starting trouble. At least not yet.”
Falken drew himself up to his full height and glared down at them. “If you think you want trouble with me, I’d think again.”
“You’re a big man, but even big men have to sleep sometimes,” Auresh told him.
“And there are two of us,” Cadellium added. “Sweet dreams.”
Two? Where’s Shep? Falken wondered. Ah, right: he was a repeat offender. He doesn’t get a second shot at Oz.
Falken was about to reply when he saw a group of inmates emerge from the trees, their uniforms faded and tattered from long years of use. They dragged a pair of crude wooden sleds behind them. This will be the scavenger team from the colony.
“Welcome to Oz!” the lead inmate called out. “You boys better come with us if you don’t want to end up with Archos and his crew.”
“Who’s Archos?” a new inmate asked, but Falken had already started toward the tree line.
“Hey!” the scavenger team leader called out. “That ain’t the way to the colony, big guy.”
“I know,” Falken said. He glanced at Cadellium and Auresh one more time, and then turned his back and disappeared into the trees.
He ate the energy bar in his supply pouch and drank one of his water bottles as he walked, setting an easy pace through the trees. After a few minutes, he glanced up at the sky, spotting a pair of New Australia’s moons through the tree-tops, and further to his right, the sun. He squinted, gauging the sun’s distance from the horizon.
Mid-afternoon, he judged. Assuming those hibernation drugs only knock you out for an hour or so while they get you hooked into the simulation, it looks like the time on Oz is synced up with the time on the UNCS Sydney. Peshai said he could give me a week … so I better remember to keep track of how much time has passed. But did he mean seven days starting tomorrow, or does it include today? Falken shook his head. Shit. I don’t know.
He picked up the pace, breaking into a slow jog. Nearly twenty minutes later, the coastline emerged into view through the trees, and Falken saw that he had picked his course nearly perfectly: Lookout Hill was just a few hundred yards to his left. The buried bulk of the UNEV Khonsu rose up over the ocean, dotted with trees. Falken hurried over to it.
He checked the worksite first – the spot between the hill and the ocean where he and Weaver had built their boat. There was no boat there, and the sand was smooth, free of footprints. Falken frowned.
Well, if we built a boat together in Weaver’s simulation, it would have been years ago … there might not be any evidence of it left.
A piece of faded white cloth, half-hidden in the sand, caught Falken’s eye. He bent down and tugged a scrap of sail free.
So we did build a boat. Looks like that part of the simulation was the same for both of us.
He turned and climbed the hill next, breathing hard from the exertion. When he reached the crest of the hill he stopped and squinted, inspecting the ground around him.
… but we didn’t discover the ship. It’s still buried, undisturbed. Falken turned and faced out to sea, eyeing the small island several miles away. What happened after we built the boat? Why didn’t we find the sensor node, and the spaceship?
Falken walked to the bow of the ship, and after several false starts, found the tree he was looking for. He set his back against it and then pa
ced out thirteen steps toward the ocean. Gingerly, he toed the earth in front of him, and then watched as it crumbled away, slowly at first, and then the ground caved in all at once, revealing an open hatch.
He arched an eyebrow. And I didn’t have to fall in to find it this time, thank you very much.
Falken climbed down the ladder into the airlock. Spacesuits lined the walls, their faceplates staring blindly at him. The familiar, musty smell of the ship’s stale air washed over him. Through the hatch, he saw the moldering corpse of the Khonsu’s captain, gun in hand. Falken walked over to it and knelt down. He checked the gun – it was loaded, safety off. Falken set it down on the deck, and then slid it behind the captain’s back, hiding it from sight.
Best to leave that here for now.
He took the captain’s keycard next, unclipping it from the man’s uniform. Then he stood and continued deeper into the ship. He stopped in the aft compartment first, grabbing the toolbox they had found his first time on Oz. Then, by the dim glow of the ship’s emergency lighting panels, he found his way to the crew lounge. The wide, circular table still sat, dust-covered, in the middle of the room. A crewmember’s jacket, with the UNEV Khonsu logo embroidered on its sleeve, hung from one of the chairs. Falken touched the chair and it spun slowly in place, squeaking softly.
He made his way to the entryway into the bridge next. There, he stopped in the small antechamber, and pushed the keycard into the slot in the wall. The wall panels folded upward dutifully, revealing the escape pod in its silo. The lights on the pod’s control panel blinked gently, waiting.
Good to go.
Falken pulled the keycard out of the wall, and the panels folded back down, hiding the pod. He set the toolbox on the floor, tucked the keycard into his pocket, and crossed through the lounge, then hurried through the corridors until he reached the airlock and the ladder leading topside. In the fresh air again, he took a deep breath, and then faced in the direction of the colony.
Okay, enough sightseeing, he thought. Time to find Weaver.
Return to Oz will be out soon! To be the first to hear when it’s released - and get a free ebook! - please sign up for my newsletter, here:
piersplatt.com/newsletter
Falken survived the ordeal on Olympus, only to be stunned with a shocking revelation: his good friend Weaver is still incarcerated on Oz. The only way to get Weaver out is to volunteer to go back inside the prison himself. But the clock is ticking – Falken will only have a few days to find his friend and help him escape. While he’s back on Oz, he’ll have to follow the rules to the letter. One step out of line, and they’ll both be stuck in jail … forever.
Sign up to hear when it comes out!
Text copyright 2017 by Piers Platt
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
