Red Cells

FOURTEEN: ABANDON SHIP

At all times, four transdimensional pods were docked at the Trans-Paxton Penitentiary, but each one could only carry fifty passengers maximum. There were over three thousand inmates, and then the staff. Stake figured it would take about seventy pods of this size to evacuate the whole prison in one go. He supposed it had never been too much of a concern, evacuating dangerous criminals in the event of an emergency. Then again, the pods could make multiple trips to and from Punktown’s Theta Transport Station, and more importantly there were the pods the Colonial Forcers would be arriving in any minute now. Hurley said there would be eight pods carrying four hundred soldiers.

Ploss had gone on to join Conant and Dr. Zaleski in the operations center, while Hurley had escorted Stake to the recreation yard. This would be a staging area for the first group of prisoners to be evacuated back to Punktown. Men from Orange Block were already filing in, under the eyes and guns of only organic guards. Hurley had told Stake that Klaus and his team had been ordered to direct all the automatonic guards into the warehouse, shut them all down, and lock them in for good measure. Another detachment of guards had accompanied the team in the event that any of the robots became possessed during the process.

Stake had fallen into a long and barely moving line, looking out of place in his red uniform amongst all those dressed in orange. Some of the prisoners close by him asked him what he knew about all this, or simply why he was in their ranks, but he kept his eyes straight and his mouth shut. When a man covered excessively in muscles and tattoos ahead of Stake in line became loud in his demands for answers, one of the helmeted guards left his post by the exit the inmates were filing toward and came toward the back of the queue.

“Shut your hole and keep your eyes forward,” the guard snapped. It was Hurley, of course.

“This little mutie your buddy now, Hurley?”

“I told you to shut your hole!”

When the prisoner begrudgingly complied, Hurley turned to Stake and explained, “In case you hadn’t guessed, Ploss figured you should be in the first batch to leave since this thing had targeted you specifically, and sounded like it still wanted to.”

“I appreciate that, but hopefully we gave it sufficient cause to doubt whatever Cirvik told it,” Stake replied. “So where are three thousand prisoners going to be moved to until this can be sorted out… if it can be sorted out?”

“Not sure where, ultimately… maybe they’ll split you all up across Punktown’s prisons, but I have my doubts they could handle that. Maybe they’ll have to ship you all to other cities. But for now, they’re going to secure some hangars and warehouses at the old Phosnoor Shipyard.”

“Huh,” Stake said. Long-range teleportation had rendered Punktown’s once bustling shipyard obsolete, and Stake knew the area well; for a time he had rented some rooms within the hull of a decommissioned space craft, converted into apartments, on the shipyard grounds. “Going home,” he murmured to himself.

“To be honest, I’ll be as relieved as anybody to be out of this bubble we’re in,” Hurley confided. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he asked, “Did you really care what was happening to these bad guys?”

“I don’t know every man’s story. I know they’re criminals. But for me, not doing my job right is a kind of crime, too.”

“Your job? How did this become your job?”

“Guess it’s my calling. But some of my fellow prisoners asked me to look into it. And after all, I’m one of them now.”

“I know you aren’t one of the bad ones, Stake,” Hurley said. “You shouldn’t be in the company you’re in.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Whatever time you end up getting after they look at your case, I hope when it’s finished you can get your life back on the proper track.”

“Thanks for that, too. I sure intend to.”

Hurley nodded, then left Stake to saunter back to his post by the exit.

When the guard had turned his back and walked a sufficient distance away, two of the inmates farther back in line left their place and moved up toward where Stake stood. Stake knew this when he heard another prisoner complain half-jokingly, “Hey, no cutting, you two.”

He turned and saw the nearer of the two men bent forward and lunging with a crude weapon in his hand: a sharpened plastic shank with a taped handle. Stake wasn’t surprised that it was one of the Tin Town Maniacs – the jug-eared one with blond hair cut in bangs – or that the youth wore a dizzy smile.

It was so easy for Stake to catch his wrist, trap his arm, and redirect the shank’s blade into the hollow between the boy’s collarbones that he almost might have felt guilty for it. The youth obviously felt that with a life sentence, he had nothing to lose in taking this shot at Stake before possibly missing any future opportunity. But Stake did have something to lose, his very life, and so he had not held back. The boy stumbled backwards and fell comically onto his rump, eyes wide in wonder and making a wet sucking sound as if he drew on a bong, the shank’s handle still protruding from his throat.

Stake turned again, to meet the oncoming second Tin Town Maniac. This one held a plastic dowel with a long metal spike seated in it. Again he caught the young man’s arm and rerouted its thrust, but in this instance it made more sense to punch the spike into his thigh. Stake hoped it struck the femoral artery, but the spike was slim so just in case he slammed his elbow into the boy’s trachea. He too hit the floor with bulging eyes.

Guards came running, and Stake stepped further out of line with his hands held up, waiting for them. The Tin Town Maniacs were hoisted up and rushed off toward the infirmary, the one with the constricted trachea squirming desperately for air and the other one so slack Stake suspected he was already dead.

Hurley appeared in front of him and Stake said mildly, “Maybe I won’t be free to pursue the right track for a much longer time, now.”

“It was self defense, I have no doubt, but I think it wasn’t such a good idea to mix you in with the Orange Bunch, after all. Come with me.”

As Stake let Hurley take his arm and lead him away, he looked behind him and saw Edwin Fetch standing in line. His former twin stared at Stake with an ashen face and disbelieving eyes, as if he couldn’t draw in a breath himself. Stake nodded at him in a courteous goodbye and called, “Maybe I’ll see you in court, Ed.”