Read Online Prisoner 52 by S.T. Burkholder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S.T. Burkholder
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"Morning meal on company time, they foot the bill. Real food's in the cantina. Real girls, too."
The old man's smile and upturned eyebrows were interrupted by a chime from his wristband. He tapped the screen to accept the transmission and on it appeared a face Tezac could not quite make out at his vantage, shrunk to fit tiny dimensions. Leargam looked into the eyes of the man who it was on the other side and Tezac could see his shoulders droop in a sigh that went unvoiced.
"Leargam," He heard the man's voice say. "Report to hangar bay 7, pad 12."
"You get promoted Penders, or did the girls at Susie's just give you more than your usual tune-up this morning?"
"Big laugh." The man said. "Round of applause."
"I'll be here all week." Leargam said. "What's down at the hangar bay that you're interrupting my breakfast?"
"Prisoner transfer. Impromptu. Military vessel by the broadcast codes. Sounds like some kind of emergency. I thought we'd get our best right on it."
"Can't hangar personnel handle it? I'm off duty until core standard 7."
"It's your block and it's your tower, Leargam. I don't want to hear it. And take that rookie with you."
"Alright," He said, and sighed. "Leargam, over and out."
"Does this happen often?" Tezac said.
"Military ship this far out?" The old man said as he stood and gathered up their utensils. "Maybe. A few times. None of this emergency landing crap, though. On my damn shift, too."
"What about this?" Tezac said and indicated the untouched bowl of sepia goo on the table before him.
"Degradable. Like everything else in this scrapheap." He said and went away from their table and deposited everything in the autowasher, tucked away into its own dingy corner of the dingy mess hall. "Be about 30 minutes, all gone. Spendthrift magic."
"Alright," Tezac said and stood up, hands on his hips. "What about my weapon. They said I'd be issued one on arrival."
"They're always saying one thing or another. Truth is, kid, out here, you're on your own. Unless you got me around - or in comms distance of course."
"Is my weapon within comms distance?"
"Everything's in comms distance on Cocytus." Leargam said and circled round their table to him. "Getting there's the hard part. But lucky for you, armory's right on the way to our own plot of landing pad hell."
Thus they went out from the mess and navigated their way through the third level of headquarters, past the empty recreational rooms and common areas to the lift that waited like a tumor at the center of it all. Tired figures, some cloaked by their armor and their helmets and some not, shambled past them as the doors opened and Tezac could not help but look upon the shape of things to come. They stepped inside. Leargam pressed the topmost button. The maglev units beneath their feet engaged and, humming, spurned the earth.
The lift that was empty but for the two of them opened onto the lonely hall of the fourth and highest level of headquarters. Its gleaming stone produced no echoes, its balconies no commiserating figures. They stepped through and onto the hard, polished floors. Tezac looked up at the great hollow pyramid of steel that sat upon a plinth before them at the heart of the atrium, and within it the single chain of unity onto which the arms of the many were fastened. He had placed in his time such symbols upon many worlds, steeped in blood and stamped with iron treads. It was that of the Concilium, of Man so-called and less so with every Reclamation, and it stretched upon red flags along all the corridors that led away from the chamber.
"This is command." Leargam said and gestured about them. "Most of its the auditorium you already been in. The rest is all mangerial. Sterile, stuffy offices. Company shills. Our tech is tucked away in a Womb somewhere. Armory's that way."
"Why wasn't I told any of this before?"
"New arrivals are restricted to observation levels until two days time." Leargam said and led him through the archway of the corridor that
The old man's smile and upturned eyebrows were interrupted by a chime from his wristband. He tapped the screen to accept the transmission and on it appeared a face Tezac could not quite make out at his vantage, shrunk to fit tiny dimensions. Leargam looked into the eyes of the man who it was on the other side and Tezac could see his shoulders droop in a sigh that went unvoiced.
"Leargam," He heard the man's voice say. "Report to hangar bay 7, pad 12."
"You get promoted Penders, or did the girls at Susie's just give you more than your usual tune-up this morning?"
"Big laugh." The man said. "Round of applause."
"I'll be here all week." Leargam said. "What's down at the hangar bay that you're interrupting my breakfast?"
"Prisoner transfer. Impromptu. Military vessel by the broadcast codes. Sounds like some kind of emergency. I thought we'd get our best right on it."
"Can't hangar personnel handle it? I'm off duty until core standard 7."
"It's your block and it's your tower, Leargam. I don't want to hear it. And take that rookie with you."
"Alright," He said, and sighed. "Leargam, over and out."
"Does this happen often?" Tezac said.
"Military ship this far out?" The old man said as he stood and gathered up their utensils. "Maybe. A few times. None of this emergency landing crap, though. On my damn shift, too."
"What about this?" Tezac said and indicated the untouched bowl of sepia goo on the table before him.
"Degradable. Like everything else in this scrapheap." He said and went away from their table and deposited everything in the autowasher, tucked away into its own dingy corner of the dingy mess hall. "Be about 30 minutes, all gone. Spendthrift magic."
"Alright," Tezac said and stood up, hands on his hips. "What about my weapon. They said I'd be issued one on arrival."
"They're always saying one thing or another. Truth is, kid, out here, you're on your own. Unless you got me around - or in comms distance of course."
"Is my weapon within comms distance?"
"Everything's in comms distance on Cocytus." Leargam said and circled round their table to him. "Getting there's the hard part. But lucky for you, armory's right on the way to our own plot of landing pad hell."
Thus they went out from the mess and navigated their way through the third level of headquarters, past the empty recreational rooms and common areas to the lift that waited like a tumor at the center of it all. Tired figures, some cloaked by their armor and their helmets and some not, shambled past them as the doors opened and Tezac could not help but look upon the shape of things to come. They stepped inside. Leargam pressed the topmost button. The maglev units beneath their feet engaged and, humming, spurned the earth.
The lift that was empty but for the two of them opened onto the lonely hall of the fourth and highest level of headquarters. Its gleaming stone produced no echoes, its balconies no commiserating figures. They stepped through and onto the hard, polished floors. Tezac looked up at the great hollow pyramid of steel that sat upon a plinth before them at the heart of the atrium, and within it the single chain of unity onto which the arms of the many were fastened. He had placed in his time such symbols upon many worlds, steeped in blood and stamped with iron treads. It was that of the Concilium, of Man so-called and less so with every Reclamation, and it stretched upon red flags along all the corridors that led away from the chamber.
"This is command." Leargam said and gestured about them. "Most of its the auditorium you already been in. The rest is all mangerial. Sterile, stuffy offices. Company shills. Our tech is tucked away in a Womb somewhere. Armory's that way."
"Why wasn't I told any of this before?"
"New arrivals are restricted to observation levels until two days time." Leargam said and led him through the archway of the corridor that
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