::TWENTY::
Epsilon 4. The last fucking place she’d want to be. A military prison. If anywhere could break her, that’d be it.
Finally let the kid drop. Franks sent him to bring back Big Johnson, so we could figure out what to do. Maybe just sent him out so I wouldn’t kill him anyway. Everything in me wants to jump in a bird right now, and go after her. Can’t do it. If they reach Epsilon 4 with her before we catch them, we won’t be able to do a damned thing unless we’re prepared. I hate having to sit and wait. My pacing is pissing Franks off. He’s smart enough to not say anything about it. Just waits.
“How long before they reach Epsilon 4?” My voice sounds strange, even to me. I haven’t been this angry over something in a hell of a long time. Tried to live quiet, on Outpost 17. Managed not to kill anyone, or do anything else that would draw attention. I hadn’t forgotten what I was capable of, but the depth of feeling surprises me a little.
“Small said they took a fighter, they’re fast, so I’m guessing two days tops.”
He’s making a point of both trying to stay still and calm around me, at the same time trying to keep himself across the room from where I’m pacing. Worried I might just kill him too. Have to get some control over myself, or I’m never gonna get her back. And I am gonna get her back, but I can’t do it by myself.
“They’ll keep her out the entire way….” More talking to myself than anything, trying to get calm. Get cold.
“Wouldn’t you, if you were the one that had to deal with a pissed off Jane?”
“So it’s not likely she’ll manage to fuck them up in flight.” I think back to Jane, cutting those mercs to pieces. If she got loose, that fighter would never make it to Epsilon 4 at all. So they’ll likely keep her out the whole way.
“They still don’t want to kill her, Riddick. They want her alive, and able to talk. That’s what this has been about for years.”
“So why now? The whole Outpost 17 operation had desperation written all over it. And grabbing her here? That had to be fucking risky as hell. Why now?”
“Hard to say. Jane’s been trained to resist just about every method of interrogation known, same as most soldiers that got as far as she has. When they grabbed her four years ago, they beat her so badly because it’s the only method they had left. She’d kill herself, or they’d more likely have to kill her, before she talked. Maybe they’ve come up with something else, something new, to break her….”
Franks makes a point of circling the table between us as we’re talking. Doing it slowly, but keeping the table between us. The mention of the beating she took, of breaking her, just made me more agitated.
“…Or maybe something within the Company itself has changed.”
“You had mentioned that what she knew would tear the Company apart, if it got out. But why now? Why the rush?”
“The elections….”
The Company already has an incredible amount of power. Business, military, intelligence. The one thing it lacked was real political credibility. Something it needed to deal with other entities as big as itself. It already had all the power in the background. But an elected candidate? It had nothing near that legitimacy. Yet. Elections were coming up for the election of Old Earth president. With that kind of legitimacy, any barriers to the Company would be swept away.
“What she knows would put an end to that.”
“They won’t kill her until they know what she knows, Riddick.”
Not exactly putting me at ease. We’ve known each other too long to dance around the truth. But the thought of them killing her makes it hard to think straight.
“Will she live…”
“Riddick, I’ve known Jane a hell of a long time. If anyone can survive this, she can. Jane’s not weak. She’ll live, until we can get her out.”
Big Johnson, with Small running behind him, storms into the med bay. Silent. Furious. Everything in him demanding an explanation from somebody before he kills something.
“We’re going after her. No fucking way do we leave her.” His voice is hard, and cold, looking from me to Franks. Neither one of us answers. He wasn’t asking a question anyways, simply stating the obvious.
“Anybody been inside Epsilon 4?” A small nod of the head from Franks. “Where will they keep her?”
“They don’t want to kill her, so she won’t be in with regular prisoners. I doubt even Jane could survive that.”
Big Johnson is completely calm, completely cold. A bit more than just a mechanic. Taking in everything that’s being said. Intelligent and cunning. Waiting to hear out everything.
“They’ll want her awake, and aware, or they won’t get much out of her. That means either the med bays, or the induction floor. If she’s to be kept at Epsilon 4, they’ll keep her in the med bay. Of course, the chances of her getting loose in there are greater, and, as it’s closer to the administrative wing of the prison, there’s a chance of her doing real damage. More stuff for her to use as weapons, if she gets loose. Less able to control her, if she does get loose. If the intent is to take her somewhere else, they’ll leave her on the induction floor, where they bring in new prisoners. Not much risk to her there. She can shake whatever Dufresne dosed her with. She would only have other new prisoners to deal with. Provided she stays on that floor. It’s four floors up, to central admitting, the only way in or out. If she makes a break for it, she’ll have to make it through those four floors. The prisoners are loose in Epsilon 4, but there are almost no guards.”
“You believe they’ll keep her on the induction floor.”
“Jane’s still military, Riddick. Some people are going to see her that way, no matter what the Company says about her. Whoever’s behind this isn’t likely to trust the military to deal with her. She might be held at Epsilon 4, but I don’t believe they intend to break her there. They’ll be looking to take her out at some point.”
“So they’ll be expecting someone to come get her. Maybe that gives us an edge.”
Big Johnson’s been quiet through all of this, watching. Moving up to the table in the middle, soundlessly.
“They’re gonna have their hands full. She’s going to be pissed off when she realizes where they’ve got her. They won’t leave a woman on that floor if she’s drugged. Not if they want her alive. As long as she’s awake, she’s going to be trouble for them. We have half a day, tops, to get in there and get her out, before they decide to shut her down.”
“But she’s unarmed, and she’s still just a wom…”
Small Johnson, looking at us like we’re nuts, talking about a woman surviving in that position. Everybody turns to look at him, but it’s Big Johnson that sets him straight.
“Doesn’t matter whether or not she’s armed. I served under her. She isn’t just a pilot, she was a grunt, a soldier, like the rest of us once. In so many dirty fucking places I can’t even remember the names of. So drop this ‘she’s just a woman’ crap, it doesn’t wash with me.”
He’s looming over Small now, poking a finger at his chest. Not quite with every word, but enough to keep Small’s attention. Small seems to have lost his voice, his eyes huge. Franks is moving over to Smalls, making a point of not getting in Big Johnson’s way.
“Get the Virago ready. Make sure she’s fully armed. We’ll be out in a minute.”
Smalls looks relieved at having a reason to get out of the room. Franks has already started to gather medical supplies together. Looks like he expects a lot of injuries.
“Weapons.” Big Johnson, with a small nod of the head, makes a move for the door, that same silent tread.
“How long did you serve under her?” I pocket several of the knives from the cabinet, going through the Decatur’s armory. Small arms, grenades. Leave the big stuff for the Virago, don’t much care for being loaded down with stuff. I get the feeling this is going to get dirty. Grab a few spares, for Jane, when I see her again.
“Four years…..Two of those years were on Trieste 9.”
His voice goes quiet at the name. Trieste 9. The Company wanted it, when it first started to take over the military. Figured it could be taken easily, and sent in a small group of ground soldiers in to take it. Then the politics took over and the soldiers got abandoned, stuck there for two years. No more weapons drops. No way off. The Company not wanting to acknowledge that it sent people in, not wanting to admit the mistake. At the end just fighting to survive. No way to get off planet, while everybody with a grudge against the Company airlifted in to add to the forces fighting them. A force of over a thousand special forces soldiers went in. Four came out, after two years of fighting the dirtiest hand to hand combat ever known. Weapons having all run out a year before. My Jane was one of those four to walk off Trieste 9.
“If it’s timed right, she should only have to be there half a day or so. I’m not going to leave her there.”
“Damn straight. She’s going to make a hell of a mess. It might be chaos when we get in.”
“Good.”
Nobody else says anything while we finish loading up the Virago. Smalls taking her out of the bay, making way for Epsilon 4. Go bring my baby back.
—
Fuck, I hate being cold. Cold grate floor, a whisper of stale air. Dank, fetid air. Smells of old blood, piss and fear. Nothing wants to form up properly in my head, all my thoughts are foggy, sluggish. An ache over my right shoulder. That sharp sting, with its ring of numbness.
Searing blast of white pain down my back. The sound of screaming. Disconnected. Takes me a minute to realize it’s me. The crackle of a cattle prod. Fucking awful way to wake up, but it does wake me up, and fast. Muttered words from the men above me, about not hurting me. Funny, under the circumstances.
Gently test each of my arms and legs, see if anythings broken, what kind of damage I’ve got, and what I have to work with. Knife is gone, but that was to be expected. Two pairs of boots, all I can see of the two men, retreat through a door, closing it behind them, leaving me in the dark. Good, the dark is better. Easier to think in the dark. Try to get things straight in my head.
Get up slowly, keeping my ears open for the slightest of sounds. Opening up all my senses to everything around me. I can feel other people in the room. Smell the fear. On my feet, trying to keep steady. Not only so I won’t fall, but so I won’t look weak, that could be fatal right now, I’m guessing. Make my way to the door the two men left through.
The small plaque, right beside the door. Epsilon 4. Guess it was on the itinerary after all, just not for Riddick. Reach back, to rub the sore spot on my shoulder. Where that fucker hit me with the tranq dart. Dufresne. I could get pissed off with myself for being so stupid, but all I can think of right now is killing him. Slowly.
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