Mag Force - Hung Out Part 28

CHAPTER 28.

I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

The Bible, Matthew 26:15.

The inmates of Jango were permitted two hours of recreation time before lights out. Some of the prisoners attended cla.s.ses, some watched vids. Those who had enough energy left after work sweated out their frustrations in the gym. There were swim teams and boxing teams, wrestling teams and chess teams, bridge clubs, guest lecturers, and a group of would-be actors rehearsing for a production of Our Town. The golf league had been disbanded after it was rumored that one of its members had died of snakebite on me fourteenth hole.

Although the time was supposedly "unstructured," each prisoner was required to partic.i.p.ate in one of the activities, which were designed to improve health both mentally and physically, according to the brochure. Xris's b.u.t.t-beeper, as the devices were affectionately known among the inmates, would report his location to Command Central. He was supposed to be attending a cla.s.s in Zero-Gee Calculus. He was going to be late to cla.s.s today, however. Probably earn himself another ten demerits.

Changing out of his sweat-soaked clothes, he took a shower, making certain that one of the cell mates was in the room keeping watch. Not that he counted on them in case of attack, but they could at least scream. n.o.body came around to shoot holes in his mattress. Coming out of the shower, Xris thanked Alan for standing guard duty, put on his sweatpants and sweats.h.i.+rt, and left for cla.s.s, making a small detour on his way.

Cellblock Five was located across the quadrangle from Xris's cellblock, the third building of a second quadrangle. The rain had started again. Xris had been on this planet a week to the day and it had yet to stop raining for longer than twenty minutes. People didn't die on Jango; they mildewed. Those attending cla.s.s were running through downpour across the wide expanse of lawn toward the education building. Its lights shone brightly in the gray gloom, something the brochure would probably cite as symbolic.

Xris entered Cellblock Five, walked up to the security post that stood in the center of bisecting corridors.

"I need to see inmate Mair," Xris said respectfully. The guard glanced up from his portable vid; he was intently watching a soccer match being played on some distant planet. Looking annoyed, he waited until a commercial break, then grunted. "He won't be there. This is rec time. What do you want to see him for?"

"I was worried about him," Xris said. "He fell and hit his head a couple of days ago and I heard he wasn't doing too well. Besides, he's got some notes I need for cla.s.s. Look, sir, I'm late as it isa""

The guard shrugged. He wasn't the one who would be getting the demerits. Besides, the game was about to resume. He jerked his thumb at an electronic pad on the desk. Xris pressed his thumb on the pad, leaving behind a faintly irradiated imprint that quickly faded. Then he was off down the hall.

According to their laundry tags, Macdonald, Becking, and Mair shared the same room, located on the first floor. Xris walked down one corridor, turned right, and entered an adjoining hallway. He halted when he saw a small knot of men standing around a doorway. Although he couldn't be certain which room the doorway led to, he could make a pretty good guess.

Xris waited in the angle formed by the convergence of the two corridors while he decided on a course of action. His original plan had been to reconnoiter the corridor, determine the exact location of Mair's room, maybe even have a chance to talk to Mair, whoa"to judge by the T-s.h.i.+rt in his laundrya"had lost a lot of blood and might not be feeling up to either physical or mental stimulation. Xris was still trying to decide how to introduce himself, wondering how to worm his way quickly into their confidence. He had come up with a few ideas, but so far he hadn't liked any of them. Now, however, G.o.d was smiling on him, giving his enemies into his hands. Or maybe it was Mashahiro Ito. Xris remembered reading about a ghost known as a revenant, who could not rest until it had exacted revenge on its murderers....

Three men stood outside the cell door, blocking the entrance. They were probably supposed to be keeping an eye out for the guards, but they were too busy watching, with leering grins, whatever was happening inside. Xris recognized the threea"the Master's flunkies. Judging by the sounds his augmented hearing was picking up, the Master was having a conversation with a gentleman who occupied that cell. A rather strenuous conversation, one punctuated with thumps and groans.

The flunkies were enjoying the show, weren't aware of Xris's presence until he peered over their shoulders into the room. The Master was inside the cell, enjoying his rec time talking with a short, tubby man with graying hair going thin on top. Becking, Xris guessed, by his s.h.i.+rt size.

The Master had hold of what little hair Becking had left. The conversation they were holding was rather one-sided. The Master pounded Becking's head into the concrete wall while he recited a litany, which went: "Tell me what I want to know." Thump. "Tell me what I want to know." Thump. "Tell mea""

Becking's face was covered in blood. He couldn't have answered if he'd wanted to, because every time he opened his mouth, the Master would bounce him off the wall again. The eye of the security cam roamed around the room, saw what was going on, but was apparently not interested.

As entertaining as all this wasa"Xris could have cheerfully watched Becking's head being used for racquetball all nighta"this was the perfect opportunity to ingratiate himself.

Xris placed his hand, his cybernetic hand, on the shoulder of the nearest and skinniest flunkie.

The man gasped, jumped, goggled.

"Excuse me," Xris said politely. "Would you mind stepping to one side? I need to get in there."

"You can go toa""

"Thank you." Xris lifted the flunkie off the ground and tossed him down the corridor. The flunkie slammed up against the wall, then slid to the floor with a groan.

"I only ask nicely once," Xris informed the other two.

They glanced at their crumpled comrade and backed off down the hall.

"Hey, Master," one yelled. "It's the Tin Man."

"Inaccurate and not highly original," Xris said, stepping inside the cell. "Mostly I'm plastisteel, but then I guess it would be too much to hope for you to have brains as well as beauty."

The Master looked around, annoyed.

"f.u.c.k off, a.s.shole," he said, and bashed Becking's head into the wall. "You and me'll settle what we got to settle later. This is none of your f.u.c.kin' business."

"Well, in a way it is," Xris argued. "I work in the laundry. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out of those cotton T-s.h.i.+rts? You're putting me to a lot of extra trouble. So why don't you let the man go."

Xris noticed that the security cam was now suddenly an interested spectator. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm was buzzing. Xris didn't have much time.

The Master grunted, made an obscene gesture, and turned away. He was in the act of knocking Becking's head against the wall yet again when Xris drove his cybernetic fist into the Master's stomach.

The Master was in excellent physical condition; Xris's clenched hand encountered solid muscle. But muscle is malleable and Xris's fist wasn't. The Master gasped in speechless agony and doubled over. A chop to the back of the neck drove the Master to his knees. Clutching his gut, he sucked air and glared at Xris in impotent fury.

Becking sagged down the wall and sat there, leaning his bloodied head against the bed frame. His eyes were alert, though shadowed with pain, and those eyes regarded Xris intently.

Xris was about to introduce himself when a blast from a stun gun hit him from behind and the only thing he met was the floor.

Opening his eyes, Xris thought at first that he was still inside his dream. He hoped he was still dreaming. A kaleidoscope of dazzling colors burst before his eyes, whirling and s.h.i.+fting, splitting and merging. Realizing he was awake, Xris panicked. He grabbed wildly for the sides of the bed, clutched them tightly, for he had the terrible impression that he was going to fall into this vat of swirling electric color and never emerge.

The panic subsided when a portion of his brain that wasn't engaged in running around screaming and banging on the inside of his skull told him to calm down. There was a rational explanation. Some of his optic circuitry must have been damaged. Fighting the nausea, he tried turning his head ever so slightly.

The colors vanished. He was looking at nothing more exciting than a gray wall in a very small room, a room with a single bed, a sink, a toilet, and a vidscreen in a corner near the ceiling. A force field bathed him in an annoying red glow.

Xris turned his head back and the fireworks display burst into view.

"Great!" he muttered, closing his eyes. "A broken connection somewhere. Either that or a crossed wire. Or maybe something pressing on a nerve."

He didn't know, couldn't begin to fix it, and there was no way to reach Dr. Quong, who was presumably on Del Sol by now, preparing for the revolution. Xris considered briefly having the medical staff at the prison examine him, but he put that thought immediately out of his head. They might find the little presents Quong had tucked inside Xris's leg.

Xris sat up, blinked, and the colors disappeared. Making a few experimental moves, he discovered that the fireworks display didn't begin as long as he remained upright and held his head relatively still. A wrong move, a too-quick turn of the head, another b.u.mp, and he'd find himself stepping into something akin to one of Raoul's more interesting flashbacks.

Xris opened a small panel on the inside of the wrist of his cybernetic arm, punched in the command to run a systemwide diagnostic program. He hoped it would locate the problem, fix it, and do so quickly. At least there was no one around to ask stupid questions or make imbecile remarks.

Solitary, Xris realized. They've put me in so confinement.

He rose gingerly to his feet, instinctively careful not to move his head. He walked over to the toilet, relieved himself. Returning to his bed, he glanced at the vidscreen and saw a man watching him.

The face of Robert Montieth, the warden, filled the vidscreen.

"If you are experiencing any discomfort, the full effects of the stun will wear off in about half an hour," Montieth informed him.

No, it wouldn't, but Xris couldn't tell this b.a.s.t.a.r.d that. Xris sat down on the bed and carefully tilted his head to see the screen.

"As you have probably surmised, you have been placed in solitary confinement," the warden informed him. "You have only been here a few days, Tampambulos, and already you've been involved in two incidents. First you attack a fellow inmate without provocation, an action that resulted in broken bones. I let that go with a warning, since that was your first day and I make allowances. But this second a.s.sault will be punished. You are a troublemaker and this is what happens to troublemakers."

Xris started to shake his head, thought better of it.

"I wasn't the one who started the trouble, sir," he said, sounding contrite. "The first time, that muscle-bound lunkhead tried to shake us down for our shoes. Next I go to visit some friends and I find him playing hockey using my friend's head for a puck. None of the guards seemed to care, so I did something about it."

"I'm afraid that explanation won't do, Tampambulos," Montieth said coolly. "Inmates Becking and Slovenski have both testified that they were having a quiet conversation when you burst into the cell and made an unprovoked attack. Their testimony is further corroborated by several other inmates who were witness to the disturbance and by the guard who was watching the security monitor.

"Further, I want you to know, Tampambulos, that inmate Slovenski is a model prisoner. His work for several charitable organizations has won him acclaim here at Jango. We are very proud of inmate Slovenski. All of us benefit from his efforts."

Some of us more than others, Xris thought. So that's why the guards are blind half the time. Slovenski's paying them to keep their eyes shut. And how much do you make off the shoe fund, Warden Montieth? Except that Slovenski's got to be handing out more than petty cash. It would be interesting to find out how he's making the big money around here.

Not that it's any of my business, Xris remonstrated with himself. I've got my own problems.

"You will spend fifteen days in solitary confinement, Tampambulos. I hope you will use this time constructively to rethink your att.i.tude. You will be provided with vidbooks and other educational material, of which I trust you will take full advantage."

The vidscreen went blank.

Fifteen days! Way past the deadline.

Xris laid back on the bed. He wasn't overly concerned. Once Amadi found out, he'd see to it that Xris was back on the job. In the meantime, Xris would catch up on his calculus.

Solitary meant solitary. If there were other prisoners around, Xris couldn't hear them or see them. Same with guards. There were no windows in his cell. The only way he could tell day from night was by the digital clock on the vid machine.

Dinner arrived in his cell via a automated conveyer system. A metal hatch on the back wall slid open, a food tray appeared. When he was finished, Xris touched a gray b.u.t.ton. The door opened. Xris placed the tray on the belt and the door closed. The food served in solitary made the food in the cafeteria look like gourmet night in the best restaurant on Adonia.

Xris slept soundlya"at least no one snored in solitary. The next morning he opened his eyes with trepidation and was relieved to see nothing more colorful than gray wall. He was deeply involved in his mathematics lecture, was actually enjoying it, when a voice interrupted his studies.

"Hey, you."

Xris peered through the red glow of the force field. A prisoner stood outside his cell, guiding an automated mop around the floor.

"Hey, you," repeated the prisoner in a low voice, with a glance down the hallway. "Come over here where I don't have to shout."

Xris cast a glance in the direction of the vid machine.

"Don't worry," the voice a.s.sured him. "They don't keep watch on you. Why should they? You're not going anywhere."

Xris stood up, approached the force field.

The prisoner plied the mop. He was a tall man with muscular arms and chest, thick dark hair, and a tanned face. The eyes were blue and unblinking, reminded Xris unpleasantly of the eyes of a corpse.

"My name's Macdonald." The eyes held a tiny flicker of interest. "What's yours?"

"Tampambulos. But don't worry about p.r.o.nouncing it. Everyone calls me Xris."

"Do I know you, Xris?" Macdonald asked, staring.

Yes, you know me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Xris said silently. You see this leg? It's there because you blew off the real one. See this arm? That's there for the same reason. You know Mashahiro Ito, too. And all the others you've murdered over the years.

"No, you don't know me," Xris said with a smile.

"You're a friend of Becking's, then?"

"No. I haven't had that pleasure. Mair either."

Macdonald's staring eyes narrowed. He hadn't blinked once during this conversation and Xris's own eyes were beginning to water in sympathy. "Then why did you tell the guard you were coming to see us? And why risk your own neck to save Becking's?"

"Let's just say that we have a mutual friend."

"Who?" Macdonald demanded.

Xris cast a significant glance at the vidcam.

"They're not paying attention. They never do. You're in solitary, for G.o.d's sake!" Macdonald said, adding impatiently, "I switched jobs with a guy today specifically to have this talk. I can't afford to do it two days in a row. Answer my questions."

Xris shrugged. "Amadi."

"Never heard of him," Macdonald said. The eyes still didn't blink.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Xris said. "My mistake. Make that Trevor. Archibald Trevor." This was the code name Amadi had given him.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Macdonald snapped. "I don't play games, Tambompol." Evidently he wasn't as sure about not being overheard as he let on, because he glanced up and down the hallway, then asked quietly, "Are you the man Trevor hired for the job?"

Xris nodded. "And, as I said, you can call me Xris. I'm the one who's going to bust you out of here."

"When?"

"You've got to be patient, Mr. Macdonald. I have my own arrangements to make." Xris shrugged. The less anyone knew about his plans, the better. "You've been here ten years. I wouldn't think a few more days is going to matter much."

Macdonald finally blinked. Lines on his forehead creased and wrinkled. "Trevor gave you a deadline. I know because we gave Trevor a deadline. A week from tonight. Can you meet that?"

"Not while I'm in here," Xris said.

Macdonald was silent for a moment, shoving the mop back and forth, then he said grudgingly, "Thank you for helping out Becking. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Slovenski. That's the second beating he's given Becking. I think he might have died if you hadn't come along."

Ain't that a shame. Aloud, Xris asked, "Is he okay?"

"Yes, a slight concussion. Nothing more serious, thanks to you."

Xris did his best to look sympathetic. "What's going on here anyway? Amaa"Archibald gave me to understand that you fellows had a good thing going here on Jango. He showed me the brochures. I know something about the corporation you own," Xris said mildly, "and I know you've been running it and doing a d.a.m.n good job with it for years. Now you're letting a muscle-bound thug push you around? What's the deal?"

Macdonald's face flushed with anger, while the blue eyes paleda"an odd and unnerving contrast In those corpselike eyes, Xris saw the man who could casually order the death of two federal agents in a weapons factory. The man who could send a.s.sa.s.sins to kill Darlene.

But the anger flashed and burned out, leaving only a middle-aged man looking slightly ridiculous holding on to an automatic mop. Macdonald even managed a wry smile.

"We ran the universe from our prison cell. You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. There's only one organization who wields more power than we do, and that's the Royal Navy. People ask us how we can stand it, cooped up on this planet." Macdonald shrugged. "h.e.l.l, if you were making ten million an hour, you wouldn't mind shoving a mop around for it, would you?"

"I'm not sure that even ten million an hour would compensate me for a bed that would be more comfortable if it was filled with rocks, and food that makes rat poison look appetizing by contrast." Xris shook his head. "Not to mention a few other amenities, such as female companions.h.i.+pa""