Lockdown
“Lockdown.” A calm feminine voice intoned over the speakers. “Please, return to your cells for lockdown in five solar minutes. Thank you for your attention and have a nice day.”
“I think it constitutes cruel and unusual punishment,” Lady Hakira, late of the Mystral Cluster’s Opposition Party, said in an aggrieved tone, “to expect inmates to ‘have a nice day’.”
Kasen Pettigrew kept her eyes on her surrounds, searching for danger. “Psychological manipulation, my lady.” She said. “It’s supposed to calm the prisoners into acceptance of their fate. But more likely,” she held out a hand, blocked Lady Hakira, as a group of captured male Castellan raiders walked in front of them. Kasen considered the threat level as minimal and continued. “But more likely, it’s to infuriate, cause intemperate actions and eventually break the prisoners, again, into accepting their fate.”
Lady Hakira raised a perfectly plucked blue eyebrow and regard Kasen with speculation in her violet eyes. “I think that’s the longest speech you’ve ever made, Pet.”
Kasen ground her teeth. Only her mistress got to call her ‘Pet’; anyone else felt the wrath of a highly trained bodyguard. And usually apologised in short order.
“I submit to you there is little to do but observe, think and discuss.” Kasen murmured as they walked into the cell.
Now came the hard part.
‘Lockdown’ literally meant locked down. The women each lay on a pre-warmed slab of bunk. The material flexed and accepted the body lying on it, created the perfect shape of the inmate. Then the manacles came out and clamped down on wrists, ankles and throat, held the prisoner immobile until released at the guards’ pleasure.
Misbehaving inmates could, and were, be kept in ‘lockdown’ for as long as punishment required. No need for the outmoded concept of solitary, the inability to move served as deterrent enough as Kasen discovered for the first three weeks of their incarceration.
But it wasn’t the immobility that taught Kasen the lesson, it was her failure as a bodyguard. In lockdown, she couldn’t protect Lady Hakira and the bruises her charged returned with were lesson enough.
“Lockdown in thirty solar seconds.” The voice said again. “Please, to avoid injury or punishment, remain still and have a good evening.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Lady Hakira muttered from the next bunk. “I swear, when I get out of here, I’m going to hunt that woman down…”
“And I shall help you.” Kasen replied. “But first we have to escape or be released.”
“An impossibility. I am too much of a radical for the Ruling Council to ever release and this prison was especially designed for the worst of the worst.” Hakira said bitterly.
Kasen sighed. Her mistress’s words were all too true. Hakira was a political prisoner, not a criminal, nor a pirate, nor a prisoner of war. Kasen, by association and by employment shared Hakira’s fate whether she agreed with the woman’s politics or not.
Pre-warmed manacles eased out of their receptacles, clicked shut around Kasen’s wrists, ankles and she tipped her chin up for the throat lock.
Lady Hakira’s constant opposition to the Border Wars, and her growing popularity landed them here on false charges of treason. Unfortunately, Hakira spoke often enough about the war for the Ruling Council to cobble together an audio communication of her voice plotting against the government. The fact the recording remained untested by an independent evaluator merely indicated how far the Council were willing to go to silence the voice of reason.
“Either the Cluster will be defeated in the war, or the Council will, eventually, have to declare peace. In either circumstance, they have no legal reason to hold us.” Kasen said.
The lights dimmed, though did not shut completely down.
“Ah, but you forget: treason is a war or peace sentence.” Lady Hakira said. “In the case of war, we are lucky not to be executed.”
“And it is your high status that stopped it.” Kasen said. “If they tried, I’m sure revolution would follow. This war is not a popular one; never was, never will be.”
“But, Pet, it’s the most lucrative enterprise the Council has found.” Hakira oozed in a reasonable tone. “Why, all those barbarian colonists, failing to pay the high taxes on their mineral rights, it’s all so… wrong. They must pay their share.”
Kasen’s lip curled as Lady Hakira repeated the justification for the Border war. But the barbarian colonists weren’t so easily defeated. No, they were more canny, smarter and had the money to buy superior technology from the Jovian Corporation.
Lady Hakira’s speeches served to inflame the population of the injustice of what the Ruling Council tried to do and gave support to the colonists. She also warned the populace that their own taxes would increase to pay for the war machine while Councillors profited. It was that accusation, and the evidence Hakira supplied that led to her - and by extension - Kasen’s incarceration. Freedom was a distant dream.
Kasen’s mouth twisted with disgust. Lady Hakira remained upbeat while she, who should be planning an escape, slowly succumbed to the tedium of the day-to-day schedule and the calm, understanding of counsellors, therapists and those who were considered ‘rehabilitated’ but not ready for release.
She had to shake the malaise off. Kasen couldn’t protect her mistress if she accepted this life sentence, if she fell into depression.
“Goodnight, Pet, maybe tomorrow we’ll be free.” Lady Hakira murmured sleepily.
Lady Hakira said that every night. ‘Maybe tomorrow we’ll be free’. Kasen didn’t believe her, but replied as she did every night: “Good night, my lady.”
Kasen stared up at the ceiling in thought. Somehow, she had to get Lady Hakira, and herself, out. She fully expected Hakira’s supporters were trying every legal manoeuvre, but she feared it would take an illegal measure to secure their release.
But how? How did you escape a fully automated prison system? Inmates were in lockdown by remote at night and constantly under surveillance during the day. Cameras she could circumvent, but the pressure plates, they were the problem. They registered the barcodes on the soles of the footwear, compared that barcode to the physical parameters of the inmate, including weight. All those aspects were measured while the inmates slept.
No one escaped from Marist prison. Ever.
Kasen drifted off to sleep still attempting to find a flaw in the system.
* * *
“Lockdown complete.” The woman’s achingly pleasant voice woke Kasen. “Please arise for the day. Breakfast will be served in one hour in the dining hall. Until then, please avail yourself of the cleansing unit and fresh uniforms. Enjoy your morning.”
Kasen threw an arm across her eyes, a sense of futility growing.
“Cellmates Alpha 3784 dash 547 and Beta 1290 dash X932, your attention please.” Kasen sat up at her number. The ‘X’ represented her official attachment to a convicted inmate. “The Governor requests your presence in his office at oh nine hundred solar hours. Please make yourselves presentable and available for an extended interview. In the meantime, please enjoy your morning.”
“Eight months and now he wants to talk?” Lady Hakira asked with a gleam of humour in her violet eyes.
Kasen shrugged, stood by the transparent explosion-proof door and watched the cells across the concourse while Lady Hakira bathed. One of the Castellan raiders stared back at her, or, more precisely, at a naked Lady Hakira.
She watched as the Castellan wiped the body fluid onto the glass with his hands and turn away with a satisfied smile. Another Castellan stood off to the side, watched and waited for Kasen’s turn in the shower.
Her lip curled with distaste. Oversexed Barbarians.
* * *
Guards escorted the two women down a corridor with dark pink carpet and pale pink walls. It was supposed to be a soothing, feminine colour, but to Kasen, the carpet hid the bloodstains of many a victim.
Governor Courtland rose from his chair. “Good morning, Lady Hakira.” He smiled, but ignored Kasen. “Please, sit.” He held out an arm to one of two chairs in front of his desk. He gave her a slight bow, a bob of his greying head.
“Good morning, Governor.” Hakira dropped into a chair. Kasen stood at her right shoulder. “To what do I owe this unexpected… ah, ‘request’?”
Courtland’s smile dimmed as he sat. “Er, well, here’s the thing.” He cleared his throat, lowered his gaze to the sheet of recyclable plastic lying on his desk. “I’ve been given instructions as to your disposal.”
“Disposal, is it now?” Lady Hakira crossed her legs, folded her hands on her knee.
“Perhaps an… unfortunate use of the word.”
Kasen began to wonder at his demeanour: Nervous, unsettled, perhaps a little confused?
Courtland tried a brief smile. “I have here a directive from the Ruling Council, Lady Hakira, and I must confess I’m a little… worried about the dubious legality of such a demand. We, here at Marist Prison, operate with the utmost care in rehabilitating the inmates so they become useful members of society once more. I cannot understand the Council’s…. well, attitude, I suppose.”
“Then perhaps you should tell me what they want, Governor Courtland.” Lady Hakira said.
Kasen watched the man, then turned her gaze to the window. Sunshine, she thought, fresh air. Guards, patrolling the perimeter but… not watching the inmates. Their attention lay beyond the walls. What…?
“Yes.” Courtland said and Kasen shifted her feet. “Right then. I have a demand from the Council through me to you. It suggests I, ah, facilitate a confession of treason from you, or you shall be executed out of hand.”
Kasen watched the guards shift, form into groups of four; a defensive, military formation.
Lady Hakira’s laugh was light with humour. “I imagine they are under a lot of pressure to see me disposed of, Governor Courtland, and I suspect someone has proven the fallacy of the supposed treasonous communications.”
Courtland flushed. “I don’t know anything about that.” He said quickly, giving lie to his statement and shifted in his seat. “But if you refuse to make a confession freely, I’m to…”
At his subtle movement, Kasen launched herself across the desk, slammed the Governor in the chest with her shoulder. The pistol, with an attached suppressor, flew out of his hand, thumped to the carpeted floor as she took him down.
Courtland gasped for breath as Kasen held his throat, not squeezing, but with enough pressure to let the Governor know she could choke the life out of him. Her other hand formed a fist over his heart and his eyes widened with acknowledgement.
Where she came from, the gravity was heavier. She was stronger and faster than the other inmates, probably the guards, too. With one strike, she could punch through Courtland’s sternum, pulp his heart and break his spine.
“Kasen! What are you doing? What’s the meaning of this?”
“Look out the window, my lady.” Kasen ordered without taking her eyes off Courtland.
“Oh… my. There are soldiers, scaling the walls, fighting with the guards! Colonial soldiers! But…”
“One word, my lady.” Kasen ground out and lifted her eyes to Lady Hakira.
“Word? What word?” Lady Hakira turned from the window.
“There’s only one reason the Ruling Council would arrange for the Governor here to assassinate you, and probably cite the insanity you suddenly suffered during your incarceration.” She grinned down at Courtland, saw acceptance in his expression as he relaxed with defeat.
“And why would they do that?” Lady Hakira stepped back and looked down at Kasen, puzzled.
“Revolution.”
© 2009 Jaye Patrick
“I think it constitutes cruel and unusual punishment,” Lady Hakira, late of the Mystral Cluster’s Opposition Party, said in an aggrieved tone, “to expect inmates to ‘have a nice day’.”
Kasen Pettigrew kept her eyes on her surrounds, searching for danger. “Psychological manipulation, my lady.” She said. “It’s supposed to calm the prisoners into acceptance of their fate. But more likely,” she held out a hand, blocked Lady Hakira, as a group of captured male Castellan raiders walked in front of them. Kasen considered the threat level as minimal and continued. “But more likely, it’s to infuriate, cause intemperate actions and eventually break the prisoners, again, into accepting their fate.”
Lady Hakira raised a perfectly plucked blue eyebrow and regard Kasen with speculation in her violet eyes. “I think that’s the longest speech you’ve ever made, Pet.”
Kasen ground her teeth. Only her mistress got to call her ‘Pet’; anyone else felt the wrath of a highly trained bodyguard. And usually apologised in short order.
“I submit to you there is little to do but observe, think and discuss.” Kasen murmured as they walked into the cell.
Now came the hard part.
‘Lockdown’ literally meant locked down. The women each lay on a pre-warmed slab of bunk. The material flexed and accepted the body lying on it, created the perfect shape of the inmate. Then the manacles came out and clamped down on wrists, ankles and throat, held the prisoner immobile until released at the guards’ pleasure.
Misbehaving inmates could, and were, be kept in ‘lockdown’ for as long as punishment required. No need for the outmoded concept of solitary, the inability to move served as deterrent enough as Kasen discovered for the first three weeks of their incarceration.
But it wasn’t the immobility that taught Kasen the lesson, it was her failure as a bodyguard. In lockdown, she couldn’t protect Lady Hakira and the bruises her charged returned with were lesson enough.
“Lockdown in thirty solar seconds.” The voice said again. “Please, to avoid injury or punishment, remain still and have a good evening.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Lady Hakira muttered from the next bunk. “I swear, when I get out of here, I’m going to hunt that woman down…”
“And I shall help you.” Kasen replied. “But first we have to escape or be released.”
“An impossibility. I am too much of a radical for the Ruling Council to ever release and this prison was especially designed for the worst of the worst.” Hakira said bitterly.
Kasen sighed. Her mistress’s words were all too true. Hakira was a political prisoner, not a criminal, nor a pirate, nor a prisoner of war. Kasen, by association and by employment shared Hakira’s fate whether she agreed with the woman’s politics or not.
Pre-warmed manacles eased out of their receptacles, clicked shut around Kasen’s wrists, ankles and she tipped her chin up for the throat lock.
Lady Hakira’s constant opposition to the Border Wars, and her growing popularity landed them here on false charges of treason. Unfortunately, Hakira spoke often enough about the war for the Ruling Council to cobble together an audio communication of her voice plotting against the government. The fact the recording remained untested by an independent evaluator merely indicated how far the Council were willing to go to silence the voice of reason.
“Either the Cluster will be defeated in the war, or the Council will, eventually, have to declare peace. In either circumstance, they have no legal reason to hold us.” Kasen said.
The lights dimmed, though did not shut completely down.
“Ah, but you forget: treason is a war or peace sentence.” Lady Hakira said. “In the case of war, we are lucky not to be executed.”
“And it is your high status that stopped it.” Kasen said. “If they tried, I’m sure revolution would follow. This war is not a popular one; never was, never will be.”
“But, Pet, it’s the most lucrative enterprise the Council has found.” Hakira oozed in a reasonable tone. “Why, all those barbarian colonists, failing to pay the high taxes on their mineral rights, it’s all so… wrong. They must pay their share.”
Kasen’s lip curled as Lady Hakira repeated the justification for the Border war. But the barbarian colonists weren’t so easily defeated. No, they were more canny, smarter and had the money to buy superior technology from the Jovian Corporation.
Lady Hakira’s speeches served to inflame the population of the injustice of what the Ruling Council tried to do and gave support to the colonists. She also warned the populace that their own taxes would increase to pay for the war machine while Councillors profited. It was that accusation, and the evidence Hakira supplied that led to her - and by extension - Kasen’s incarceration. Freedom was a distant dream.
Kasen’s mouth twisted with disgust. Lady Hakira remained upbeat while she, who should be planning an escape, slowly succumbed to the tedium of the day-to-day schedule and the calm, understanding of counsellors, therapists and those who were considered ‘rehabilitated’ but not ready for release.
She had to shake the malaise off. Kasen couldn’t protect her mistress if she accepted this life sentence, if she fell into depression.
“Goodnight, Pet, maybe tomorrow we’ll be free.” Lady Hakira murmured sleepily.
Lady Hakira said that every night. ‘Maybe tomorrow we’ll be free’. Kasen didn’t believe her, but replied as she did every night: “Good night, my lady.”
Kasen stared up at the ceiling in thought. Somehow, she had to get Lady Hakira, and herself, out. She fully expected Hakira’s supporters were trying every legal manoeuvre, but she feared it would take an illegal measure to secure their release.
But how? How did you escape a fully automated prison system? Inmates were in lockdown by remote at night and constantly under surveillance during the day. Cameras she could circumvent, but the pressure plates, they were the problem. They registered the barcodes on the soles of the footwear, compared that barcode to the physical parameters of the inmate, including weight. All those aspects were measured while the inmates slept.
No one escaped from Marist prison. Ever.
Kasen drifted off to sleep still attempting to find a flaw in the system.
* * *
“Lockdown complete.” The woman’s achingly pleasant voice woke Kasen. “Please arise for the day. Breakfast will be served in one hour in the dining hall. Until then, please avail yourself of the cleansing unit and fresh uniforms. Enjoy your morning.”
Kasen threw an arm across her eyes, a sense of futility growing.
“Cellmates Alpha 3784 dash 547 and Beta 1290 dash X932, your attention please.” Kasen sat up at her number. The ‘X’ represented her official attachment to a convicted inmate. “The Governor requests your presence in his office at oh nine hundred solar hours. Please make yourselves presentable and available for an extended interview. In the meantime, please enjoy your morning.”
“Eight months and now he wants to talk?” Lady Hakira asked with a gleam of humour in her violet eyes.
Kasen shrugged, stood by the transparent explosion-proof door and watched the cells across the concourse while Lady Hakira bathed. One of the Castellan raiders stared back at her, or, more precisely, at a naked Lady Hakira.
She watched as the Castellan wiped the body fluid onto the glass with his hands and turn away with a satisfied smile. Another Castellan stood off to the side, watched and waited for Kasen’s turn in the shower.
Her lip curled with distaste. Oversexed Barbarians.
* * *
Guards escorted the two women down a corridor with dark pink carpet and pale pink walls. It was supposed to be a soothing, feminine colour, but to Kasen, the carpet hid the bloodstains of many a victim.
Governor Courtland rose from his chair. “Good morning, Lady Hakira.” He smiled, but ignored Kasen. “Please, sit.” He held out an arm to one of two chairs in front of his desk. He gave her a slight bow, a bob of his greying head.
“Good morning, Governor.” Hakira dropped into a chair. Kasen stood at her right shoulder. “To what do I owe this unexpected… ah, ‘request’?”
Courtland’s smile dimmed as he sat. “Er, well, here’s the thing.” He cleared his throat, lowered his gaze to the sheet of recyclable plastic lying on his desk. “I’ve been given instructions as to your disposal.”
“Disposal, is it now?” Lady Hakira crossed her legs, folded her hands on her knee.
“Perhaps an… unfortunate use of the word.”
Kasen began to wonder at his demeanour: Nervous, unsettled, perhaps a little confused?
Courtland tried a brief smile. “I have here a directive from the Ruling Council, Lady Hakira, and I must confess I’m a little… worried about the dubious legality of such a demand. We, here at Marist Prison, operate with the utmost care in rehabilitating the inmates so they become useful members of society once more. I cannot understand the Council’s…. well, attitude, I suppose.”
“Then perhaps you should tell me what they want, Governor Courtland.” Lady Hakira said.
Kasen watched the man, then turned her gaze to the window. Sunshine, she thought, fresh air. Guards, patrolling the perimeter but… not watching the inmates. Their attention lay beyond the walls. What…?
“Yes.” Courtland said and Kasen shifted her feet. “Right then. I have a demand from the Council through me to you. It suggests I, ah, facilitate a confession of treason from you, or you shall be executed out of hand.”
Kasen watched the guards shift, form into groups of four; a defensive, military formation.
Lady Hakira’s laugh was light with humour. “I imagine they are under a lot of pressure to see me disposed of, Governor Courtland, and I suspect someone has proven the fallacy of the supposed treasonous communications.”
Courtland flushed. “I don’t know anything about that.” He said quickly, giving lie to his statement and shifted in his seat. “But if you refuse to make a confession freely, I’m to…”
At his subtle movement, Kasen launched herself across the desk, slammed the Governor in the chest with her shoulder. The pistol, with an attached suppressor, flew out of his hand, thumped to the carpeted floor as she took him down.
Courtland gasped for breath as Kasen held his throat, not squeezing, but with enough pressure to let the Governor know she could choke the life out of him. Her other hand formed a fist over his heart and his eyes widened with acknowledgement.
Where she came from, the gravity was heavier. She was stronger and faster than the other inmates, probably the guards, too. With one strike, she could punch through Courtland’s sternum, pulp his heart and break his spine.
“Kasen! What are you doing? What’s the meaning of this?”
“Look out the window, my lady.” Kasen ordered without taking her eyes off Courtland.
“Oh… my. There are soldiers, scaling the walls, fighting with the guards! Colonial soldiers! But…”
“One word, my lady.” Kasen ground out and lifted her eyes to Lady Hakira.
“Word? What word?” Lady Hakira turned from the window.
“There’s only one reason the Ruling Council would arrange for the Governor here to assassinate you, and probably cite the insanity you suddenly suffered during your incarceration.” She grinned down at Courtland, saw acceptance in his expression as he relaxed with defeat.
“And why would they do that?” Lady Hakira stepped back and looked down at Kasen, puzzled.
“Revolution.”
© 2009 Jaye Patrick
Labels: Science Fiction
posted by Jaye at
3:02 pm
|
0 comments
