Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Curt walked down the hallway and paused at the doorway to room 211. He peered in. The room was full. He rechecked the number on the door. It was the right room. He’d been summoned into headquarters from his patrol for an important meeting but he’d assumed that, besides his superiors, he would be the only one attending.

The room was too small for a gathering this large and the air was stuffy. No chairs had been provided so everyone stood, some in groups, some alone. The atmosphere was tense and conversation was strained, as if everyone sensed something unusual was about to occur.

Curt pushed his way through the crowd. Everyone was in uniform and from the insignias he could see that they represented detachments from each level of Megalopolis One. This puzzled him. All levels had their own administration and there had never been the need for a general conclave.

Something big was happening. He continued his circuit but did not see a stage for a speaker, nor did he see any of his superiors. What was going on? He finally spotted two people he recognized.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

They shrugged. “No one seems to know.”

Just then the metal door clanged shut. Conversation stopped abruptly. Everyone looked around expectantly but no one stepped up to claim the meeting. In the silence, the tension grew. Eyes were met; brows raised in question, shoulders shrugged in answer. No one dared speak.

“Good afternoon,” a voice came at them from four different directions.

Some jumped at the sudden noise and there was a general pointing to the four loudspeakers, with cameras, high in the corners. Most turned to face a speaker unit although there was no one to see.

“As you know, now that a colony planet has been chosen, the relocation experiment is under way. Spaceships are being fitted for the convicts and their accompanying guards. The guards, however, will be returning home once the prisoners are settled. So what we are looking for is a police force to stay and maintain order in the colony. You have been chosen for that force.”

There was a moment of silence as the news sunk in. Then suddenly a din rose from the room full of incredulous officers. Everyone hollered questions at the speakers or tried to get an explanation from someone nearby.

“What do you mean, we’ve been chosen? We were never asked to volunteer!”

“Why us?”

“You can’t make us!”

“What’s this all about?”

“I’m not going!”

“Quiet,” the voice said, but they kept up their questions. “Quiet!”

In the following silence the voice continued. “What many of you don’t realize is that the Police Authority has been keeping track of your activities outside the regular limits of your jobs—activities such as taking bribes, dealing in drugs or tobacco, hustling, blackmail, and even working on Harlot Row. Many of you have been censured and others have received demerits. Some of you have actually been threatened with dismissal, but none of that seems to have stopped your ventures.”

“There isn’t a single blemish on my record,” Curt yelled. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, yes, Curt,” the voice said. “From information we received this week you have been taking bribes from tobacco sellers for years.”

“That’s not true!” he hollered. “Who told you that?”

“It is true according to the officer who followed you on your rounds at the Hub last night.”

Curt opened his mouth to reply then closed it. How had they found out? He’d been so careful. “Georg,” he muttered. “That bastard must have squealed on me.”

“The minimum stay will be five years,” the voice continued. “It will be lengthened if you continue your activities there. For the first year you will be on quarter wages, which will be put into your accounts here. You will be clothed, housed, and fed. After that first year you will be paid full wages and will then have to buy your own food and clothing.

“As of this moment, you are all relieved of your duties. Since none of you have a spouse or children there will be no need for a long goodbye.”

“And what if we refuse to go?” someone yelled.

“Yeah! You can’t make us!”

“You will be charged with your crimes. Those of you with the lesser offenses will be sent to the Fringe. Those whose crimes have anything to do with drugs or tobacco will be sent to the orbital prisons and maybe onto the colony planet. It is your choice.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. The sudden turnaround in their lives left them speechless. A few glanced about as if hoping someone would jump up and yell it had just been a joke. No one did.

“You are expected to be ready to board the shuttle by five o’clock tomorrow. You may bring one bag of clothes and personal items.”

Slowly, a few desperate whisperings began.

“What am I going to do now?”

“They really can’t send us there against our will, can they?”

Then they became more defiant.

“There must be a way out of this.”

“They can’t make me go!”

“Who do they think they are, taking over my life like that?”

The door clanged opened startling everyone. They anxiously turned in that direction. But nothing happened. No one entered. It took a few minutes for them to realize it signalled the end of the meeting. It was time for them to begin their preparations. After an initial hesitation, the group of former Megalopolis One police officers filed out. There was no talking now; most of them walked with their eyes downcast. Their life, as they knew, it was over. And they had no control over what had happened.

Curt shook off the shock and was one of the few who determinedly pushed their way through the crowd in the hallway. He wasn’t going to accept this like they seemed to be doing. No one could make a decision like that about his life. He was going to fight back. He knew some information about his police chief but he figured people higher up had made this decision. He tried to recollect the list of people who owed him a favour. There had to be someone with enough authority who could help him and help him fast.

“I’ll get you for this, Georg,” he muttered as he left the building. “I’ll get you.”

 

* * *

 

Gwin shuffled along with the rest of the prisoners as they were shunted past the cages in the hall of the Ceriem. Once she’d been found guilty, she’d been returned to her jail cell and in the middle of the night the ones who had appeared in the Low Court during the past week had been shuttled to the prison ships. She’d sat in the midst of the murderers and tobacco and drug dealers, feeling out of place and yet looking as if she fit in. They were dirty, she was dirty; their clothes were rumpled, her clothes were rumpled. She was glad when the ride ended but now she would give anything to be back on the shuttle.

The ring on her head hurt and the noise, the smell, and the bright lights were overwhelming. She wished she had one of the guards’ masks. Claw like hands on spindly, white arms reached for her through the bars. She tried to avoid looking at the thin, pale faces.

They stopped at a cage and the guards ordered the women inside to get on their bunks. When they had complied, one guard unlocked the door while another took off the ring. They motioned for her to enter and when she stepped through the doorway, they slammed the door shut behind her.

There were six bunks and five women. Gwin headed to the empty lower bunk but the woman in the top bunk jumped down in front of her.

“What’s your name?”

Gwin tried to push around the woman.

“I said, what’s your name?” The woman put one foot up on Gwin’s bunk to block her.

Gwin sighed. This was obviously the welcoming committee. “Gwin.”

“Who did you kill?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Oh, another innocent.” The woman laughed and the others joined in as if on cue.

“Why don’t you leave me alone?” Gwin asked. She didn’t need this right now.

“Because, I’m Shela and I don’t have to.” Shela raised her hands to Gwin’s shoulders and gave a little push.

Gwin took a step back. She really, really didn’t need this and she could feel her temper rising. “Get out of my way!”

“A tough one.”

“Look, I’m in no mood for this.” Gwin could see the other women watching the exchange intently.

“I don’t care what your mood is.”

Gwin tried to control her temper. Her feelings had gone from frustration to anger and from bewilderment to fear over the past two days. This was something concrete to direct her anger at, but she knew that for some reason this little charade was important to the women in the cage.

“Maybe your mood will improve if you slept on a bunk with no mattress.” Shela turned around and began to lift the mattress.

“Leave it there,” Gwin stated firmly.

“What did you say?” Shela looked over her shoulder.

“That is my mattress. Leave it alone.”

Shela stood and glared at Gwin, but Gwin didn’t back down. Shela was obviously in charge of the cage and she was establishing her authority. Gwin didn’t care if Shela wanted to be the boss. She did, though, want a mattress for her bed.

“Look,” she said. “I can see that you are in charge here and I have no problem with that. Just leave my mattress alone and I’ll concede that you rule.”

Shela stood still. There was silence in the cage. Gwin waited, their eyes locked. She knew she’d basically given Shela an order even as she was being submissive. Suddenly, Shela grinned.

“At last, someone with some backbone, someone I can relate to.” She looked at the other women. “Gwin is now Assistant Marahanee. You will do what she tells you and share your clothes and food with her.” She turned to Gwin. “Do you want to change out of those clothes now?”

“Maybe later,” Gwin said. “I’d like to rest first.”

“Sure thing.”

Shela climbed up into her bunk while Gwin gratefully sank onto her bed and closed her eyes. She didn’t even notice the lumpiness of the mattress as her mind immediately began to review the past days. She’d already had plenty of time to go over it and she still couldn’t figure what had happened. There was no way she had killed anyone, even if she didn’t remember those few hours. She was not a killer. She thought it might have been a mistake, but there was the needle in her arm and she was sure the contents of it had made her lose consciousness. And her scarf and purse had been found with the body. Those were deliberate acts. And those acts led her to wonder if she had been framed.

But even that idea seemed absurd. Why would anyone want to frame her? For the past three days she’d tried to think of a reason and hadn’t been able to find one. That left her with no explanation for being here.

No amount of pleading on her part had convinced the police of her innocence. Even when she’d shown them her arm and asked to be tested for a sleeping drug, they’d ignored her. She’d asked to make a phone call and was refused. In spite of her fear and panic she’d struggled to remain calm while presenting her side of the story to the judge. She’d actually thought he’d believed her, until that awful person banged into the courtroom and the judge’s mood instantly changed. He’d arbitrarily pronounced her guilty and sentenced her to this prison.

Her only hope now was that Britt and Mikk would be able to do something. They’d know she was innocent. Maybe they could find a lawyer to plead her case to the courts. She’d heard of it being done but it cost a lot of money, money no one she knew had. What bothered her the most was that she hadn’t been able to phone her mother to assure her that her daughter wasn’t a killer. She didn’t think her mother would believe the story, but she hated the idea that a small amount of doubt might creep in.

And what about her marriage to Mikk? What would happen to her apartment, her plant and her status with the Space Organization? She’d spent years building her reputation with the organization and had been thinking about making her first application for promotion. Now, everything was lost: her reputation, her job, her life.

“I’m going to have to clear myself,” she muttered. “Somehow, I’m going to have to find the killer or at least who framed me.”

Another thought crept in. She was in one of the orbital prisons. Was it one that was being sent to her planet? If so, how would she prove her innocence from there?