Chapter Seventeen

 

 

A walker strode along the narrow aisle between the rows of beds and hammocks. He neatly sidestepped a leg that had been stuck out to hamper his way but in doing so, he jostled into Jawn’s hammock. He continued on his walk ignoring Jawn in his swaying hammock. Jawn let the hammock stop on its own.

“They’re a nuisance,” Tedd said. He had taken the hammock across the aisle from Jawn.

“I’m thinking of becoming one myself,” Jawn said.

“Why? It will only get you into trouble.”

“Yeah, but it will break the monotony.”

And what a monotony it was. In the days since they had left all he’d done was lie in his hammock or go to the bathroom. He’d found Marc and Tery, also in hammocks, and they’d talked about their arrest and what had happened to them since. And he and Tedd had discussed their situations, but those had been the only distractions.

Jawn’s thoughts were interrupted by a shouting match two rows over. He turned his head to the wall as the voices rose in anger.

“Get your leg out of my way.”

“Why don’t you walk somewhere else?”

“I can walk wherever I want.”

Since the journey had begun everyone was allowed to roam the room at will and there were no restrictions as to when they walked or for how long. Some, who were glad to have the freedom after so long in the prison cells, spent most of the day pacing up and down each row in turn. Those who wouldn’t walk, either because they had no energy or no desire, resented the walkers continuously passing their bunks or hammocks. They soon took to jeering them or blocking their way.

In retaliation, the walkers ‘accidentally’ banged into a leg or arm extended over the side of the bed. This usually brought on a new round of arguments. The lights were left on day and night and the bar door kept locked. Occasionally the guards patrolling the hallway would peer through the bars. If they were tired of listening to the heated discussions, they would turn out the lights and pull a heavy door closed over the bars, putting the room into complete darkness. There would be an immediate silence then muttering and finally yelling as the prisoners reacted to the measure. Some were mad at the ones who had caused the enforced blackout, while others hollered at the guards. No one, however, moved. They couldn’t see where to go. When the lights were turned back on and the door opened, silence reigned for a short time.

So far, the only fight to take place had happened when Jawn’s group had walked into this room on the Treachen. At first, it had appeared that all the beds were full, then the prisoners at the beginning of the line spotted some empty beds in one corner and headed towards them. The ones behind, seeing that there were only hammocks left, also ran to try to force their way onto them. Fights quickly broke out over who should have possession of the beds.

Jawn had been at the doorway when a guard halted the line. He watched as three other guards went over to break up the commotion. They didn’t say a word, just raised their trance guns and fired at the three closest convicts. When those fell to the floor, they aimed at the next three who dropped beside the first ones. As soon as the others noticed what was happening, they quickly let go of each other. Those nearest the beds sank onto them while the others reluctantly climbed into hammocks.

The guard had motioned Jawn to continue into the room. He glanced at the prone convicts as he passed. They couldn’t move, but their eyes pleaded with him for help. He regretted that there was nothing he could do as he walked to a hammock against the wall. Because the beds were so low, his hammock was only waist high. The one above was just above his head. In order to get into either of them the prisoners had to stand on the side of the bed. From his hammock he’d watched the prisoners on the floor as sensation slowly returned to their limbs and they climbed stiffly to their feet.

For the most part, though, the prisoners were on their own. They got up when they pleased, went to the washroom when they pleased, talked if they wanted, or stared at the walls. The only outside distraction was the bringing of their meals, which if the growling of Jawn’s stomach was any indication, would be soon. Jawn had an air purifier vent near the end of his hammock and at night when it was quieter he could hear the hiss of the air streaming through it when the generator cut in.

The door clanged open and the guards pulled in the wagon holding the four huge cans of food that was their meal. The nearest prisoners grabbed their plates and swarmed the containers. Others followed and soon there were lines down the rows of beds. Those in the lines waited impatiently while the first ones ladled their food onto their plates. The progress was slow and it wasn’t long before the inevitable mealtime grumbling began.

“Why do they always get to be first?”

“Why can’t the guards organize it so that we at the back get to be first sometimes?”

“They always take so much and we’re left with the dregs.”

“Yesterday, I didn’t get enough.”

Once their plates were full, the prisoners headed back to their beds or hammocks to eat. It was a messy business as the food was usually a runny, unidentifiable mixture and they had to use their fingers; most ended up licking it off their plates.

Jawn didn’t see the value of standing in line. As far as he was concerned the food wasn’t worth fighting over so he stayed in his hammock until the last prisoners were at the containers. Then he picked up his plate and walked over to the cans, peering into them. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find. Every meal, so far, had been the same kind of mush. The only food left was on the ladles and he knocked it off onto his plate then returned to his hammock to eat.

The guards removed the wagon and replaced it with another holding large cans of water. As the prisoners finished their meal, they went over to the water to wash their plates and hands. When that task was over, the guards took away that wagon, too, and the prisoners were left alone again.

The lights being left on made it hard to distinguish between day and night but because of receiving three meals a day, the prisoners, who wanted to, were able to keep track of how many days they’d been in space. Jawn was one of them. He didn’t know where they were going or how far away it was, but when they arrived, he would know how many days it had taken them to get there.

 

* * *

 

Gwin lay on her bunk, hands behind her head, staring at the wall. She’d spent the days since takeoff carefully going over her arrest and had finally admitted to herself that she must have been framed for the murder. She still had no idea why or by whom and that monopolized much of her thoughts. She’d gone over every memory she had of the people she had met, the places she’d been, and the conversations she’d had over the past year and there was nothing she’d said or done that she felt could have triggered this.

She knew the answer to the mystery was at home. Since boarding the ship she’d formed a plan for her return using her knowledge of space flying and some assumptions she’d made about how the landing and unloading procedure would go. Her plan ended at her landing at the Space Station. Because she had no idea on the reason for the framing, she had no place to start asking questions or looking for clues. Her only hope was that Mikk or Britt might have learned something, for surely they knew she wasn’t a killer.

Since takeoff, Dore and Iren had tried making conversation with her but because of her planning she’d only responded with a few answering words and generally ignored what was happening around her. But, with that planning done, there was nothing else to do to occupy her time. She couldn’t get up because there was nowhere to go once she did.

So now she was half-listening to the talk in the cell as she looked around. Iren and Dore were talking on Iren’s bed; Shela was stretched out on her top bunk. Conni was sitting on her bunk watching the door while Rebe and Mari, the other woman on Conni’s side, were on Mari’s bunk. Syl was lying on her bed moaning as she held her bound hand with her good one.

“Does it hurt?” Gwin asked.

Syl turned to her and nodded. Gwin noticed that Conni also glanced at her.

“Do you want me to look at it?”

Syl looked up at Conni’s feet swinging above then shook her head.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.” Gwin turned towards her. “Would you, Conni?”

“If it will shut up her whimpering, go ahead.”

Gwin sat beside Syl and slowly removed the rag from around her hand. The blood had dried to it and she had to pull it off causing Syl to wince in pain. The jagged wound crossed the palm from side to side and it was oozing pus.

“Your hand is infected,” Gwin said. “We’ll have to send for a doctor.”

“No, we won’t,” Conni said from above. “She got her inoculation just like the rest of us. It’s supposed to fight any infection.”

Gwin remembered the nurse telling her the same thing but she also knew that its success rate was only 95%. “Well, it’s not working this time.”

“You just have to give it awhile.”

Gwin leaned over and whispered. “Do you want me to send for a doctor?”

Syl nodded. “If Conni will let you.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Conni demanded jumping off her bunk.

“She needs a doctor.” Gwin stood.

“No, she doesn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you would get back to your own bunk.”

Gwin looked down at Syl and didn’t see Conni’s hands as they came up and pushed her into the wall.

“Hey,” yelled Shela, throwing herself at Conni and knocking her onto Syl’s bunk. “You leave my girls alone.”

Conni pushed herself up and as she did she reached into her sleeve for her knife. She pointed it at Shela. “I think it’s about time we decided this,” she said, menacingly.

“Are you two still fighting in here?” Mat asked from the doorway.

“Mat.” Conni quickly concealed her knife then sauntered to the doorway. She wrapped her hands around the bars. “So you’ve finally come to sample the merchandise.”

“I’ve come to discuss a business deal with you.”

“With me?” Conni asked, delighted.

“With you and Shela.”

“Oh.” Conni’s happiness disappeared.

“What kind of deal?” Shela asked.

“Come on over so that I don’t have to yell and I’ll tell you,” Mat said.

Shela went to stand beside Conni, careful not to touch her. “So what is it?”

“I’ve been asking around and there are a lot of guards who want to come and visit you girls. I’ve told them that I’m your hustler and they have to go through me.”

“Yeah?” Conni asked. “And where are they going to get the money? I heard no one was getting paid until they returned home.”

“A lot of them were smart enough to bring some money along for their visits to stop over planets.”

“That does us no good,” Shela said.

“Well, I’d give you your payment in liquor and tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” Conni asked excitedly. “Where did you get tobacco?”

“A police officer on the transport Condoren smuggled a bunch of tobacco and pipes on board. He’s selling them to anyone who can pay him.”

“So you’re going to find us customers and use their money to buy us tobacco and liquor. What do you get?”

“Well, naturally I’ll be taking a cut for my time and trouble.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Shela said wryly.

“The deal is a good one. You’ll each get paid the same amount for every customer you have.”

“Does that include my girls’ customers?” Conni asked.

“You get paid per customer. Who you get to do the work is up to you, but if you use one of your girls you pay her out of your cut.”

“And how much do we get?”

“I’ll give you half a bottle of liquor or half a packet of tobacco for each customer.”

“We should get a full bottle or a full packet per customer,” Conni said.

“Not if you want to deal with me.”

“What about the pipes?” Shela asked.

“You’ll get them and some tobacco as a bonus for making this deal.”

“How come you’re not afraid of getting caught like you were in the prisons?” Conni asked.

“No one really cares here. All they’re interested in is getting you to the planet and getting home again.”

Mat gave them a few minutes to think it over then rubbed his hands together. “So. Are we partners?”

Conni and Shela looked at each other. Neither one wanted to be the first to admit she would work with the other.

“Come on,” Mat said. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

“Okay,” Shela said. “But no one tells me who I take or how many I take. If I don’t like a guy I can turn him down.”

“Fine with me.” Mat nodded. “What about you, Conni?”

“I’ll go along with it,” she said grudgingly. “But if you miss just one payment, I’m quitting.”

“Great.” Mat pulled two pipes and two packets of tobacco from his pocket and handed them through the bars.

“Looks like you were pretty sure of us,” Shela said as she took hers.

Mat grinned. “I knew you’d want something to keep you occupied on the trip.”

Gwin listened to the conversation. There was no way she was going to be part of the deal. She hoped Shela realized that, for if not, she would have another enemy on her hands.

She was also wondering if she should ask Mat about a doctor. She hated to do it while Conni was there, but she knew if she didn’t soon, it might be too late for Syl.

“When do our first customers arrive?” Shela asked.

“I have four wanting to come this evening.”

“That’s two apiece,” Shela said. “We can handle them.”

“Hey,” Conni said. “That’s not for you to decide.”

“Then bring my two and I’ll take a bottle of liquor for them.”

“I’ll take liquor, too, for mine,” Conni said.

 

* * *

 

The mood of the police officers on the Condoren had not changed and there was constant bickering over the smallest item, sometimes even over future events. They’d been told that the governor of the colony had been given their records and she would decide their positions from constables to police chief. And this meant that there could be some demotions. The older officers who had been on the force longer believed they should automatically be promoted while the younger members thought promotions should be made according to each officer’s merit. This caused much debate since none of them wanted to take orders from those who had been below them on their home planet.

The only one whose mood had improved was Curt. A few days after they were in space he’d put out the word that he had some tobacco for sale. He hadn’t expected much of a result because he had specified cash only and he didn’t think many had brought money. Those who secretly smoked had brought their own supply, but he did find customers in the ones who decided to have a party and those who now wanted to experiment since no one cared if they smoked on the transport.

Then word had spread to the other ships and soon orders were coming in on the space clipper that travelled twice a week between them. He’d had to make a deal with the captain of the clipper, who in turn bargained with the guard contacts on the ships. Each day he applauded his wisdom.

“You know Curt, if you’d just tell us where your tobacco is hidden we could save you some time by getting it for you.”

“Sure, then all you’d have to do is divide it into the orders and get it to the clipper’s captain.”

Curt shared a room with two other police officers, Mont and Dill. They were from the police station on Level Two Down and had been sent to the colony planet for demanding protection money from shopkeepers. Ever since they found out about his tobacco, they’d wanted a part of the business. Both were lounging on their beds as they watched him strap his pouch around his waist.

“I can handle it myself,” Curt replied.

“Maybe you should think about hiring us as bodyguards,” Dill said. He sat up. “We could guard you when you go for your tobacco.”

“Yeah,” Mont agreed, leaning on his elbow. “You never know when someone might try to rob you.”

“But I’m on a transport with one hundred other police officers. This should be the safest place in space.”

Mont and Dill laughed. “I hope you don’t really believe that,” Mont said. He stood up.

“I know some guys who would kill you if they found out where your tobacco is stashed,” Dill said.

“I can look after myself.” Curt headed to the door.

Mont shrugged. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

Curt left the room and headed down the corridor. He rounded the corner and stopped, flattening himself against the wall. He peeked back and saw Dill and Mont emerge from the room. They looked both ways then started in his direction. Curt resumed his walking. He’d suspected that they’d been trying to follow him on his last two trips for tobacco and today he was going to find out for sure.

After rounding the next corner he ran to the steps leading to the level above and climbed them, making as much noise as possible. At the top, he pushed open a door that led to a supply room where the cleaning staff kept their solutions. He slipped inside, then listened at the door. He could hear Mont and Dill pause as they reached the top of the steps. Then they began whispering about which way he would have gone.

Curt grabbed a bottle of cleaner and opened the door.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked in mock surprise.

“Uh, n nothing,” Mont stammered.

“We … we’re just going to the games room,” Dill managed.

“It’s not on this level.”

“We’re picking up one of our buddies,” Mont said, his voice more forceful.

“Then I won’t keep you.” Curt headed to the steps and descended them.

He resumed his route through the corridors of the transport. He didn’t have to worry about viewing cameras watching his every move. He’d found out that, to save power, all the cameras had been shut off. But, even though he’d gotten Mont and Dill off his trail for today, he still checked over his shoulder to make sure someone else wasn’t following him. For they’d been right when they’d said, there were others who wanted part of his deal.

Many officers had approached him, some of whom were mad that they hadn’t thought of idea themselves. When he’d turned them down he’d received some threats. He knew it wasn’t hard for them to figure when his deliveries were to be made and when he was likely to be heading for his stash. So he’d begun to take a few precautions.

When not filling orders he spent most of his time wandering the ship looking for different routes to the storage area and any hiding places along each way. And since the clipper’s travel days were the same each week, he’d taken to making his trips to the storage room on days other than when a delivery was scheduled.

The pouch was another giveaway. He needed it carry back the tobacco. When he strapped it on, Mont and Dill knew for certain he was going for a pick up. And if he met an officer in the hallway while wearing the pouch he knew he would be followed. So he’d started putting it on every time he left his room. He wore it to meals, he wore it to the games room, he wore it everywhere. Soon, many of the officers tired of trying to follow his every move.

Another of his precautions was the sprinkling of a fine layer of powder he’d found in one of the cleaning rooms along the corridor outside the storage room door. He did that now before slipping through the door to the landing. He stood and overlooked the storage area, which was piled high with bags, containers, and equipment. The person in charge of the loading had told him exactly where his bundles of tobacco would be and on the second day out he’d gone down to find them. What he hadn’t been told was that they would be covered with other bags that looked similar to his. He’d climbed over rows and rows of bags and lifted hundreds of sacks until he found the marks he’d painted on his bags before they were loaded. By moving a few bags around he’d brought one of his tobacco sacks closer to the top and was able to get some of the tobacco out. Once done, he replaced his sack in amongst the others and left. It was hard work but there was no way he was leaving it on top where someone might find it.

Curt descended the steps to the floor, walked around the various pieces of equipment and then climbed up on a huge mound of sacks. It almost reached the ceiling and he had to crawl to where his tobacco was buried. He lifted off the top bags of grain and pulled his bag out. It was almost empty and he would have to dig down for another soon. He opened his sack, stuffed enough tobacco into his pouch to fill the orders he had, and closed it again. He dropped it back into the hole but because of its smaller shape, when he replaced the bags on top there was a definite dip in the row. Anyone looking for his stash would notice it immediately.

He pulled the other bags out again, propped one on its end and carefully laid the others over it. From a distance it did the job but if anyone crawled over it, it would probably collapse. He would have to bring something to fill in the hole.

Curt climbed off the stack, made his way around the equipment and up the steps. He opened the door and peered up and down the hallway. It was empty and there were no footprints in the faint dust he had sprinkled. He quickly slipped through. Not looking around, he hurried along the corridor, his full pouch banging against his legs.