Breakout

by David Ryker

  Ulysses looked like he didn’t quite believe him, but stayed quiet.

  “I need you on board to lead what might end up being a takeover of Oberon One,” said Quinn. “Does that sound better?”

  “Ah’m listenin’.”

  But before Quinn could say another word, the door to the gymnasium slid open and Kergan strolled through, with Sloane and Ridley in tow. They were earlier than Quinn had expected, but otherwise it was going according to plan. Even limited as it was, he was glad to have had the intel from Schuster beforehand.

  But there was still a lot to do before they could leave the station and head down to the surface.

  “Good afternoon.” Kergan grinned. “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”

  “I don’t hope that,” Ridley muttered.

  Kergan ignored her. “Officer Sloan and I are here to recruit volunteers for a mission to the moon’s surface. This is a very important operation and will require specific personnel. Quinn, we’ll need you and Bishop. Maggott is, unfortunately, too physically large for the delicate work needed.”

  That came as a surprise to Quinn, but a welcome one. He was glad to have one of his men able to stay back on the station, and he told Maggott so with the tiniest hint of a nod.

  “Schuster, of course, will be the inmate lead.” Kergan turned in the direction of the Yandares. “Sally, you’ll be on the team as well.”

  Sally completed a flip and came to rest on one foot on a balance beam near the center of the room. Her fellow Yandares continued their movements, heedless of the distraction.

  “I refuse,” Sally said simply.

  Quinn felt a flash of anger. He’d spoken to Sally, told her what was expected of her, just as he had Ulysses. This was not part of the plan.

  That’s what I get for making deals with a Yandare.

  “Refusal is not an option,” said Sloane.

  “I’ll make her comply,” Ridley growled, but Kergan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “I’m afraid Officer Sloane is right, Sally,” he said. “This is an emergency, so you are required to comply.”

  Sally dismounted and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Then put me in the Can,” she said.

  “Oh, let me, sir,” Ridley moaned, making Quinn think of a petulant child. “Please let me.”

  Kergan seemed to mull something over for a moment before deciding better of it, whatever it was. Quinn tried to ready himself for whatever might come next.

  “I think you’ll want to join this mission,” Kergan said.

  “You think wrong.”

  “Really?” The guard’s lips widened in a grin. “Because Keiko and Miko will be there.”

  Sally couldn’t keep her enormous eyes from betraying her shock. Quinn was surprised himself—he’d all but given up on the two Yandares who had been taken early on. He didn’t realize it until that moment, but deep down he’d assumed they were dead.

  Apparently, he was wrong.

  The other Yandares suddenly ended their routines and came to rest next to their leader on the floor. Their expressions mirrored hers.

  “Sally?” Kergan asked mildly. “You’re all right with this plan, then?”

  “Yes,” she said with a curt nod.

  “Excellent. The guards will gather you at 0700 and bring you to the hangar.”

  “Wait a minute,” said a voice from behind Quinn. He turned to see Bishop, looking angry.

  “You don’t tell Officer Kergan to do anything!” Ridley snapped, her hand going to the baton on her belt.

  Again Kergan laid a hand on her and she relented. “Is there a problem, Inmate Bishop?”

  Quinn watched Bishop closely, hoping his friend had the acting chops to pull off what would happen next.

  “We were almost killed on our last trip to the surface,” said Bishop. “I’m not going back down there without a last commlink call to my girl on Earth.”

  “You already used your allotted time for the month!” Ridley snapped.

  “I’ll allow it,” said Kergan. “After all, I don’t want to have another meeting with Dr. Bloom and Warden Farrell about inmate welfare.”

  Quinn let out the breath he’d been holding. Of all the plans he’d been putting in motion, getting in touch with Earth one more time was critical. It would be far more than a simple commlink call—at least, he hoped it would be. But that was beyond his control.

  “Enjoy the rest of your workout,” Kergan said as the three guards turned to leave. “Inmate Bishop, you may have access to the inmate commlink any time before 1900 hours, but the call will be limited to ten minutes, as usual.”

  Bishop just glared in response, so Quinn cleared his throat loudly.

  “Oh,” Bishop said, startled. “Um, thank you. I appreciate it.” He paused a moment before adding: “Uh, Officer.”

  But Kergan and the rest ignored him as they departed the gym. When the door closed behind them, Quinn’s eyes darted up in the direction of the mezzanine. The guards there were already in a discussion with each other, paying no attention to the inmates below.

  “Good work, Geordie,” he said softly.

  “Thanks, but that was the easy part. What was with Sally?”

  Quinn glared over at the Yandare leader, who sat with her ass propped against the balance beam, brooding.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But if she’s going to keep on being unpredictable, I may need to take her off the board.”

  Bishop grinned. “Better you than me.”

  “I don’t think either of us has an easy job ahead of us,” said Quinn.

  As it turned out, he was right.

  The evening sky in Old Montreal was clearer than it normally was in the background, but the look on Ellie Rosenberg’s face didn’t reflect it. Bishop could read the concern in her red-rimmed eyes, even before she spoke.

  “Hey babe,” he said. “Everything all right?”

  “All right?” she asked, clearly surprised by the question. “Of course things aren’t all right. What kind of a question is that?”

  Bishop frowned. “Is there something I don’t know about? What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about? My mother died last night!”

  The words hit him like a fist in the gut. “What?”

  “She passed away in the hospice, Geordie. I thought that’s why you were calling again so soon. I got in touch with the SkyLode comms department this morning and they said they would tell you!”

  Jesus Christ. He ran a hand down his face, a mixture of despair and rage wrestling in his chest. He had no doubt that SkyLode had passed along the information to the station, but it didn’t go any further.

  “I’m so sorry, Ellie, they didn’t.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “It’s part of what’s happening around here. Things are getting… strange. It’s why I asked you to talk to the major. I know this isn’t the time, but I need to know if you managed to get in touch with him.”

  “No, not yet,” she said. “I’ve been too busy with Mom. Geordie, what’s happening? Are you in danger?”

  “No,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry about him, especially in her time of grief. “I’m really sorry about your mom, babe.”

  Ellis snuffled back tears. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t know it was coming, right?”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier.” He had lost both his own parents to cancer long before the war. “How’s Marion holding up?”

  “You know her, always practical. I doubt she’ll be here longer than a few days. Now that she’s not tied down helping me with Mom, she’ll start hunting for Tower jobs.” Ellie smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Marion’s young and cute, and I’m sure some rich old man needs a maid.”

  Bishop had no response. That was the reality of life on the ground. He desperately didn’t want to ask the next question, but he knew he had to.

  “What about
you, El? What will you do now?”

  She tossed her bangs to the side and ran her palms over her eyes to wipe away the tears. She seemed to have aged noticeably in just a few days. Sure enough, the one time when she didn’t look utterly radiant was the one time that their commlink’s connection was crystal clear.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I guess, in a way, I’m free now, too. Let’s change the subject—what were you talking about? What’s happening on the station?”

  Bishop swallowed hard. What kind of a bastard burdened the love of his life with this kind of bullshit the day after her mother dies? From outer space prison, no less?

  “I—I can’t even tell you,” he said. “Because I honestly don’t know. Something is causing the SkyLode staff to act strangely, and they’re starting to work on new technology. To what end is anyone’s guess. All I know for sure is that our guts are telling us something is very, very wrong here. That’s why we need to talk to the major, so that he can start looking into things.”

  “But even if I do talk to him, what can he do from Earth? It takes months to get to Oberon.”

  He sighed deeply. It was finally time for him—and by extension, Ellie—to face the reality of what was happening. Whatever it was, there was no way anyone on Earth was going to help them. Oberon One was beyond the reach of anything except the people who were already on board. If there was anything that could be done, they were the only ones who could do it.

  “I think you know the answer to that, babe.”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide.

  “No, Geordie,” she said. “I want you to say it. If Mom’s death has taught me anything, it’s that I need to start looking at what I have left of my life. I have to figure out what matters.”

  “Part of me wants to tell you to just forget about me and find someone else,” he said miserably. “To try and shoot for the life you deserve. Because all I’m ever going to bring you is pain.”

  “Tell me what’s going on, Geordie. I told you that the day you four were convicted, I’m not like Peggie Maggott; I will never give up on you. It’s you and me forever, no matter what. So what do you need me to tell the major?”

  Bishop felt hot tears stream down his cheeks while a lump rose in his throat. He knew he didn’t deserve Ellie, but he also knew that she wouldn’t give up on him. And that meant that he couldn’t give up on himself, no matter the odds. He was a Marine, despite what his uniform said these days, and Marines took care of business. No matter what.

  “I need you to tell him to avenge us,” he said, managing to keep his voice even. “And that we went down fighting.”

  The screen went blank before she could respond. As he rose from his seat and stepped through the booth’s door into the corridor beyond, Geordie thought he should be grateful for such small favors.

  22

  Quinn gazed out the porthole of the cargo area of the modified Raft as they descended to Oberon. The moon’s surface, as always, appeared to be a dim red in the distance, but this time there were two small circles that were a faint blue, where the surface had been disturbed by the meteorite strikes.

  “That is our destination.” Sloane pointed to the craters, his voice sounding even stranger over the microphone of the spacesuit. He had insisted that they all wear their helmets during the descent, apparently wanting to ensure that everyone survived if there was a breach in the ship’s atmosphere.

  That told Quinn that the element they were after was all important. “Why there?” he asked.

  “Because we say so,” said Dev Schuster.

  Quinn looked over at his former sergeant, standing beside Sloane on the deck. The two men’s metal boot heels were magnetically locked to the floor, and Schuster was trying to look menacing. Boychuk stood off to the side, his shock rifle shouldered, silently standing guard. He appeared to be as distracted as he’d been when he was doing escort duty from the Can.

  Quinn, Bishop and Senpai Sally, meanwhile, floated freely through the cargo hold. Sloane’s four technicians were strapped into the jump seats, along with Keiko and Miko. None of them had said a word since they had appeared in the hangar bay just minutes before take-off. They had been so silent, in fact, that Quinn would have thought they were drugged if he wasn’t certain it was something else. He just didn’t know what yet.

  He glanced again at Schuster, who simply blinked back at him. Four times, in rapid succession. Quinn turned to Sally and Bishop and did the same to them. The three then used the thumb controls of their suits to switch their helmet radios to the fourth frequency, effectively cutting off their communications from anyone other than themselves.

  On the floor, Quinn saw Schuster pointing out through the porthole, doing his best to keep Sloane distracted. The other three floated to the opposite side of the cargo hold and turned to face the opposite direction.

  “I don’t know how much time we have,” said Quinn. “Sally, I need your analysis on your girls.”

  Her eyes betrayed no emotion, and the coldness in her voice was jarring. “They are dead,” she said simply.

  “Whoa,” said Bishop. “Steady on, there. They’re obviously not dead. They’re just… I don’t know, hypnotized or something. Granted, it would have to be very deep—”

  “No. They are dead. Everything that was Keiko and Miko is gone.”

  Quinn’s brow furrowed almost painfully. “You can’t know that for sure, Sally.”

  “What do you know of the Yandares?”

  Under other circumstances, Quinn would have perceived the question as rhetorical, Sally’s way of telling him he didn’t know anything about the secretive group. But now, it sounded as if she was genuinely curious to know the extent of his knowledge.

  “I know that you’re part of a private guild of mercenaries in Japan,” said Quinn. “Your parents are genetically matched to produce the most favorable results, and some of you are subjected to gene manipulation therapy in the womb. You’re trained in the martial arts from the time you can walk, and some of you are surgically enhanced to resemble characters from the ancient anime art form. You’re regarded as the ultimate geisha by the underworld of southern Asia.”

  “Your knowledge surprises me,” Sally said.

  He shrugged. “Know your enemy.”

  “Sun Tzu.” She nodded. “You are perhaps more formidable than you appear, Quinn. Did you know that some Yandares are also prostitutes? For sale to the highest bidder?”

  Quinn did, but decorum had kept him from bringing it up. The world’s law varied widely from country to country, and things that could get you thrown in prison in some parts of the world were perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, in others.

  “These Yandares are sometimes known as fugu. Pufferfish. Can you guess why?”

  “Because they’re the ultimate thrill,” said Quinn. “Pufferfish is delicious, but if it’s prepared improperly, it can kill you.”

  Sally grinned. “Very painfully. The same is true of the Yandare. Wealthy patrons take a potentially deadly risk when they hire us.”

  Bishop glanced over to Sloane, who was turning his attention away from the porthole.

  “Time’s getting short,” he said. “We should get ready to switch back to general frequency.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” said Quinn. “What does a Yandare history lesson have to do with Keiko and Miko?”

  “I said they were dead because they are.” She closed her eyes. “Yandare minds are mazes within mazes, constantly building plans within plans, so that we are prepared for all eventualities. Every movement, every breath, is calculated. To the trained eye, it is simplicity itself to see.”

  Sally spun herself so that she was once again facing into the cargo hold. Across from where they floated, the two Yandares sat belted into their seats next to the technicians, all of them unblinking and still.

  “Now I see nothing.” With that, she turned her radio back to the original channel.

  “Better follow suit,” said Bishop.
<
br />   “Just a second,” said Quinn. “Why did they succumb and not Sally?”

  “Maybe they’re not as crazy as she is. Seriously.”

  “Then look at the techs. It’s safe to assume that they underwent the same experience as the rest of us, and yet they act like robots. Why them and not us?”

  Bishop pushed off from the wall. “I already told you: they’re not as crazy as we are.”

  With that, both men changed channels. The discussion was over, at least for now.

  Dev Schuster watched, feigning fascination, as the ship descended closer to the surface. Even before Sloane had begun modifying the Rafts, the ships were capable of a high degree of autopilot. That meant the jumps from Oberon One to the surface and back didn’t require an experienced pilot, so there wasn’t anything else with which to distract Sloane.

  He had given Quinn the signal for a safe alternative frequency, though he wondered now whether they needed to have bothered. Sloane didn’t seem to care at all about anything except what he was doing, which was searching for the unknown element.

  “Why does the ride seem smoother now?” Schuster asked. “Normally the thrust is enough to have little eddies of dust whipping under the ship by now.”

  “The engines have been altered,” Sloane said absently. “They distribute inertia differently. However, once we have the element in hand, we will be able to achieve a number of desired outcomes, including true anti-gravity capability.”

  “Oh, of course.” Schuster nodded casually, but his heart was in the process of skipping several beats. Anti-gravity generation would be the biggest technological leap since the advent of so-called “cold” fusion in the 2050s, which made cheap, efficient energy available virtually anywhere. Of course, it also had the undesired side effect of completely destroying the international economy for the better part of two generations afterwards, which had led to decades of war and far-reaching poverty.

  “The largest deposit of the element is located here,” said Sloane, pointing to sonar readout of the strata beneath the larger of the two craters. “This is where we will begin using the plasma cannons. Once the way is clear, your companions will enter the chamber and remove the element.”