Fourteen

 

 

I DON’T KNOW who found me. I asked, but they wouldn’t tell me. The last thing I remember, when I couldn’t go on any further, was using the high-explosive shell in Siebert’s gun to blast a large chunk out of the side of a hill, in the hope that someone would see the explosion and come looking.

I guess it worked. Hell, for all I know, the military base could have been on the other side of that hill.

I woke up in the prison infirmary, surrounded by too-familiar sounds and smells. And I was glad to be back; the only alternative was a slow, suffocating death. I’d no idea how long I’d been unconscious, or how I got there. All I knew was that I was alive and, for the first time in an eternity, I wasn’t hungry or thirsty.

I couldn’t see too well—everything seemed out-of-focus—and I couldn’t move, could barely even turn my head, and it took me a few moments to understand that I’d been strapped to the bed.

On my left side a hazy face came into view, close enough for me to recognise it as sub-warden Copus. I was genuinely pleased to see the man.

“Don’t try to talk, Rico. You probably can’t, anyway. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Twenty-five went out, only one came back.” Copus moved closer in an odd jarring motion, and I realised he was sitting on a chair and had shuffled forward. “We back-tracked your path... Found a few of the others. Took us some time to identify Siebert.” He paused for a long time, then said, “There were a couple of hidden cameras on the bus. Siebert and his friends weren’t aware of them. So we know a lot of what happened. The bus got trapped in that hailstorm, is that right?”

I nodded.

“You and Guildford managed to get out. You freed the others. Then Siebert decided you should all head for... a place he’d heard about. Correct?”

Again, I nodded.

“That place doesn’t exist, Rico. You know that, don’t you? It can’t exist. Siebert was delusional, or maybe he was lying in order to keep morale up, to give you the motivation you all needed to survive. I know that’s what it was, because there’s nothing on this moon but us. Only us.” Copus leaned back a little, and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. “I was never able to prove that Siebert was dirty, but the hidden cameras caught him and Frazier strangling the other prisoners to increase their own chances of survival.”

Then, more to himself than to me, he added, “We’re gonna have to make some changes around here. Big changes. It was a mistake to have Register Forbes serve his sentence in the same place he committed his crimes.”

He looked at me again. “But you, Rico... Fact is you probably should have been left out there. Your return has been giving the other inmates the idea that it’s possible to survive out on the surface. That’s not what we want. Not what we want at all. So the warden and I made a decision. You understand that this was the only way, right?”

This time, I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Copus’s head moved out of view and I felt him working at the straps holding my left arm in place. “Raise your arm,” he told me.

I did so, and though I couldn’t see it too clearly, it seemed that it was thinner than before. That was reasonable, after what I’d gone through. But I didn’t expect my skin to be grey.

When Copus said, “We had to make some modifications,” I understood why my vision was blurred.

 

 

A WEEK LATER I was released from the infirmary and returned to the general population. No one would look me in the eye, and I don’t blame them. I could barely look myself in the eye.

They turned me into a monster. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to. They were in charge, and they wanted the other prisoners to understand that.

Guildford had been right about the memory-altering drugs they’d administered before the operation: I have absolutely no recollection of it. And he was also right about the pain afterwards. Breathing and blinking were agony for the first few days. Took me a long time to get used to the new sensations.

But it’s nice not to feel the cold any more.

Before I left the infirmary, Copus told me, “When your time here is done, we’ll reverse the process. You’ll be left with some scarring, but…” He shrugged. “Until then, you play ball, Rico. There is no military establishment on Titan.”

I said, “I understand. I genuinely do. I was a Judge, remember? A damn good one. I understand the need for secrets. And who would I tell, Copus? All of my friends are dead.” I looked at him steadily for a few seconds. “They all died in the storm. It was only by luck that I managed to survive.”

What they did to me was horrific, but—from their point of view—it was necessary.

There’s an upside, I can’t deny that. Copus arranged with the warden that my sentence should be reduced. Officially, that was in light of what Guildford and I did to free the others. Unofficially, it was a bribe to encourage me to forget about the military base that they denied existed. Plus, let’s be honest here, I’d been a model prisoner. Never started any trouble, never tried to escape. Being turned into a freak is fair price for getting out a year early.

And mods work ten-hour shifts instead of the usual twelve. I use those extra two hours to read, or work out, or play chess with anyone brave enough to take me on.

I have to keep myself sharp, you see, because I will get out. One day, I’ll return to Mega-City One and then... And then Little Joe and I will settle things. We’ll talk, he and I. And I know I’ll be able to prove to him that I was right all along.

Justice must be tempered with mercy. It must be flexible, and that goes both ways. Sure, what Copus and the warden did to me is inhumane, but it was necessary for the greater good. They had no reason to trust me not to say anything, and they didn’t want to just execute me, so they came up with a compromise. It’s not a perfect solution for any of us, but it works.

It’s just like it was back in the Meg. What happened with Virgil Livingstone, well, that was an accident. He shouldn’t have died. No, scratch that. I shouldn’t have killed him. But I was making a point about the Law, and it’s a point in which I still believe: If the Law is too rigid, the citizens will eventually rise against it. But if it bends, even just a little, then the citizens will come to understand and respect that.

The Judges present themselves as untouchable, as incorruptible, and the people don’t like that. They don’t like being made to feel inferior. The way I ran things, that wasn’t the case. Sure, it was clear to everyone that I was on the top of the heap, but they knew that they could come to me. They knew that I could change the things that needed to be changed. The other Judges said, “This is the Law, and it is immutable. Put up or shut up.” Okay, so it’s not actually immutable, since the Judges change the Law as they see fit, but that’s part of the problem. They change it to suit themselves, not to suit the citizens.

Is it any wonder that they’re despised?

In my year on the streets of Mega-City One, I worked hard to be seen as one of the people, and I know that they respected that. They respect a Judge who, if he catches them littering, will slap them across the back of the head and tell them not to do it again. They don’t respect a Judge who’ll imprison them for it.

So I’ll get out of here when my time is done.

I’ll go back to Earth. To Mega-City One.

And I’ll find my brother.

And then we’ll see who was right.

Then we’ll see.

 

 

The End