Khione's Prisoners Read online

  Zima noticed that the red line curved around the largest purple flower. “What about that one? Is that a bad patch?”

  Meacham snorted. “That’s the Field of Dreams, kid.”

  For once Tanaka laughed with Meacham. “Meaning if you thinking of harvesting that field, you’re dreaming. That whole area is thick with Keto. Very easy to get spotted there.”

  “Which explains why we’re giving it a wide berth,” Zima said.

  “Yup.” Tanaka finished his coffee and made a face. “One day I’m going to break down and buy real coffee.”

  “That’s another dream,” Meacham said.

  Meacham and Pilot talked briefly about the engines. There was an audible click as Pilot switched off the speakers. Meacham headed out, eager to search for slugs.

  Zima leaned into the passage to make sure Meacham was out of earshot.

  “You said Meacham wanted me to hit him.”

  Tanaka studied his coffee. “He’s not a convict. He’s an employee of Dumas S.A.. Like Pilot, he’d get salary plus bonus if our harvest is over our quota. With us short two divers down, there won’t be any bonus.”

  “But why get me to hit him?”

  “There’s bonus money and then there’s ‘bonus’ money. How long is your sentence?”

  “Three months.”

  “You take a swing at an employee, that’s three more. The director for convict divers is an asshole named Carlson. She’ll slip cash to guys like Meacham to make that happens.”

  “I thought he was just a dick.”

  “Oh, he is. He just has motivation to be one.”

  Tanaka threw his boots against the floor. The heels knocked against each other, triggering the flippers to unroll from the toes. Cursing, Tanaka smacked the boot heels together, retracting the flippers. This time, he flung each boot in a separate corner.

  He and Zima were alone in the dive room. Meacham had already locked away their weapons and strolled off.

  “Fucking indies,” Tanaka said. “That’s who it had to be. They must have been guided here by a former prisoner. Asshole showed them right where to go and screwed over every prisoner who still needs to hit quotas.”

  The fields had just been swaths of stubble. One of Dumas’ rules was to leave strips of mature reeds along the harvested areas. The mature reeds would seed the harvested areas, speeding their regrowth.

  “It’ll be months, shit, maybe a year or more before we can touch that area,” Tanaka went on, water dripping off his dive suit. “Not a Keto in sight, either. We could have gotten two, three basket loads without a risk.”

  Zima leaned against the wall. “If we don’t exceed our quota, Meacham and Pilot don’t get extra cash and we don’t get extra time off our sentences. Not reaching our quota means what?”

  “To them and or to us?”

  “Both.”

  “They get a subsistence wage no matter what they bring in. They won’t starve, but they aren’t getting anywhere financially. As for you, this cruise won’t count against your sentence.”

  “Won’t count?” Everything they’d gone through had been for nothing?

  “Zip zero nada. You left Naxos Station owing the company three months, you’re still gonna owe the company three months when we dock.”

  Zima banged the back of his head against the wall. “How often does this happen? How often do we get nothing?”

  Tanaka took a long breath. “It used to be pretty rare. Lately, though…I don’t know what the other subs are doing since Dumas won’t share the results. From what I’ve heard and the amount of grumbling, the other subs are struggling.”

  Zima thumped his head against the wall again.

  “Is that helping?” Tanaka asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Zima snapped.

  Both men sat silently for a few moments.

  “That’s why she did it,” Zima said. “Reece. There’s no way out, so why not dope yourself silly.”

  Tanaka slumped against the wall. “Reece made a lot of bad calls. She got into fights with other prisoners, she bought heavily on credit. Yeah, we didn’t make progress on a couple cruises. But her fighting added time and all that credit added more.”

  Zima thought about three months of tasteless food, all the while risking his life to reach a quota. Reece’s decision was starting to sound like the right call.

  The next three months played out in his head. Three months? More like the rest of my life.

  First it’d be the ration packs. He’d serve extra time just to get the food to taste better than paper. Then the crushing boredom would have him buy books or movies, again lengthening his sentence. While his sentence grew steadily longer, every missed quota meant he’d risked his life for nothing. And if a Keto got him, it’d shiver with ecstasy as it ate him. Ecstasy…

  “I know what we have to do.” Zima was already through the hatchway.

  “No, don’t.”

  Zima dodged Tanaka’s out flung hand. He stepped over the red line painted on the deck. Zima slapped the bridge hatch. “Pilot, you awake?”

  “Zima, step back from my hatch.” Pilot’s voice had a hard edge to it. “Now!” He heard sharp clicks from the wall surrounding the hatch. Zima backed away, hands raised. “I want to see something. Can you put the map on in the galley?”

  “Go to the galley, Zima.”

  Tanaka followed Zima to the galley. The map was already on the wall screen. He pointed to the Promised Land. “That’s our ticket. We get bonus for quality too, don’t we? If those fields have never been harvested, the reeds must be thick with sap.”

  Pilot’s crackly voice came from the speakers overhead. “Footage from high speed drones, the ones that survived, showed a very rich field.”

  “So we don’t need to fill the hold. A few baskets of that, plus what we already have will do the trick.”

  “Sounds brilliant, except for the part where the Keto dine on you,” Tanaka said.

  “I’ve got an idea. I know how we can lure the Keto away. Here’s how we do it…”

  Tanaka was shaking his head before Zima got the first sentence out.

  “You’re going to get killed.”

  “It could work.” It had to work or he’d end up like Reece.

  “Have you listened to a thing I’ve said? The Keto pass along our tricks. You think you’re the first person to try this? It’s been done. It worked once. And now they won’t fall for it.”

  “Where did someone try it?” Zima asked.

  “Near Myndus Station.”

  “That’s what, a thousand kilometers from here? Can the Keto spread information that far?”

  “No one knows. Considering it was six months ago, that’s plenty of time to spread the word.”

  Zima thought about it. If it had been a hundred or even two hundred, he’d call it off. A thousand? There had to be a limit to how far word would spread.

  “I’m going for it.”

  Tanaka kicked the hatchway. “I’d say it was ‘your funeral’ but there won’t be anything to bury.”

  “Pilot?” Zima said.

  “Yes, Zima?”

  “I want to do this.”

  Pilot was silent for a moment, then said. “Very well.”

  “Reece can still help us.”

  “Unconscious?”

  “Better that way.”

  Zima watched the red blood snake through the plastic tube. The clear bag at the end was filling more slowly than the first two bags. Zima’s first aid training included drawing blood—subs and stations were so far apart that drawing blood for transfusions was a common practice. While most donors stopped at one pint, two could be taken in an emergency.

  Three was dangerous, but since Reece might have saved Poulsen, Zima was comfortable with the risk. A bag of saline dripped into Reece’s other arm. While it didn’t have any platelets, it would still keep Reece’s blood pressure up. Using the saline feed, Tanaka injected a platelet booster to speed Reece’s recovery. Ironically, the booster was a derivative
of the sap from Tilson’s Weed.

  Meacham watched from the passageway. “You should take every drop.”

  There was a sharp click from the corridor. Pilot spoke through the speaker in the corridor. “Meacham, come to my hatch.”

  A flicker of panic swept across the mechanic’s face. Tanaka and Zima watched him leave. He was back a moment later, frowning, carrying two bags of blood.

  Tanaka looked surprised. “Where did she get those?”

  Pilot answered him from the passageway speakers. “I have a rare blood type, so I carry some of my own blood with me. Rare or not, it will serve.”

  “Thank you,” Zima said.

  “Meacham, you need to donate as well,” Pilot said.

  “What? No way, lady.”

  “Zima and Tanaka can’t donate. It will make them too weak to dive.”

  “They can do it without my blood!”

  “You can give the blood or I will have them take it,” Pilot said.

  “Just a damn minute!”

  “Last chance, Meacham.” There were ominous clicks from the passage way.

  Aping Zima’s gesture from a few minutes before, Meacham raised his hands. “Okay, okay. I just don’t like needles, that’s all.”

  And you’re an asshole, Zima thought, but he said nothing. He did take a bit of pleasure in stabbing the needle into Meacham’s arm.

  THE PROMISED LAND

  Before the two divers was a long crevasse in the rocky ocean floor. Light from wachira coral glowed softly inside the crevasse. Shadows swung back and forth as seaweed covered and uncovered the patches of coral. Under other circumstances, it would have been entrancing. Instead Zima’s mouth was bone dry. When he was safely inside the sub the decision to risk his life had sounded bold, yet logical. Now he was thinking that Reece’s drug addled state wasn’t so bad.

  For the fifteenth time he checked the timer on the back on his left forearm. A kilometer away Meacham should have already poured the blood out Cyrene’s dive hatch. They’d calculated the direction and speed of the current. If the current hadn’t radically changed course and the Keto weren’t aware of this trick, the predators should be swimming away from them.

  Of course if the Keto had heard about this trick, they’d be coming right down their throat.

  You made your decision.

  For this trip they’d brought a DPU. The propulsion units were a mixed blessing. Since they were noisy, divers had to carry them into the field. Teams could use them to tow out the exhausted divers and their harvest baskets. They did so knowing a Keto could already be chasing the noise and electricity. And Keto were faster than DPUs.

  Towing the DPU and their baskets, they headed into the crevasse. They paddled steadily, kicking their way deeper inside. Towing the DPU was pure grinding labor. The water wasn’t that cold, maybe eight degrees above freezing. With the strain of pulling the DPU, he was sweating inside the heavily insulated suit. It was such heavy work, he almost forgot to keep watch for Keto. Then he’d remember Poulsen and frantically scan the area.

  A tall outcrop of pink-yellow wachira coal created an island of light around them.

  Purple Tilson’s Reeds filled the crevasse. They waved in the gentle current. Zima checked his compass and was relieved to see the current was still going in the right direction. The reeds here were the healthiest Zima had seen. Their purple color was so deep, they seemed a glossy black. Tanaka and Zima drifted to a stop.

  Using diver hand sign, Zima made a chopping gesture. Tanaka bobbed his fist to say, ‘Yes’

  They set the DPU and empty cages on a small boulder. They pulled out handsaws and set to work.

  The two men cut through the richest of the violet stalks. They sliced arm loads at a time, then carried the rolled up stalks to the cage.

  This will work, Zima thought. The quality was better than anything anyone could have brought in and Dumas wanted the high quality sap. They were sure to come out ahead on this trip. He’d get his sentence reduced! And a couple bottles of hot sauce!

  Zima froze as a pair of tentacles parted the reeds in front of him. I’ve killed both of us, he thought. Then he realized how small the tentacles were. An equally small face followed the tentacles out of the reeds.

  It was a tiny Keto. A baby? Zima thought. Then it attacked him.

  While it had to be less than a meter long, it had a full sized Keto’s attitude. It doubled in size as it sucked water into its mantle, spread its grasping tentacles, and jetted the water to launch itself at Zima.

  Zima was startled at first, then he laughed. He grabbed one tentacle, while Tanaka caught the other. The pup tried to pull them closer to its feeding orifice. Bristled feeding tentacles surrounded the mouth, to make sure no tender morsels drifted away. Three interlocking teeth snapped inside the orifice.

  Zima caught a handful of the bristled tentacles in his other hand. Holding them tightly, he kept the teeth at arm’s length.

  Zima and Tanaka’s eyes met. Together they wrestled the pup to a cage. Tanaka kicked it over, dumping out the harvested reeds. Silently cursing, the men wrestled the angry little monster into the cage. They got most of the pup inside, but it wouldn’t pull in its tentacles. It still fought them, trying to slash them with the sharp claw at the end of each tentacle. Tanaka slammed the cage door on the tentacles. He let the door swing back open and the pup pulled the bruised tentacles into the cage. Tanaka slammed the door again, locking it this time.

  Both men hung in the water, panting. Zima knew he had an idiot’s smile on his face. Tanaka was grinning as well, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at their prize. No one had ever captured a Keto. What would those corporate hacks pay for a live Keto?

  The pup yipped--a high pitched sonar call than echoed off the walls of the crevasse. Tanaka pointed to the DPU and pointed again, sharply gesturing for him to hurry up.

  The pup kept yipping as the two men fastened the cage to the DPU. Zima had just finished locking the cage in place when he noticed the reeds swaying in the opposite direction of the current. The reeds parted. The tentacles parting them this time were much, much larger.

  The Keto that swam into the cleared space wasn’t merely larger than the pup, it would have dwarfed the Keto that had attacked Zima.

  As it emerged, its coloration had matched the purple of the Tillson’s Reed. When it saw the two divers streaks of brilliant red began running down its flanks. Its meters-long grasping tentacles spread wide. Zima bet this was the pup’s Mama and he was the damned fool who taken her baby.

  Tanaka slapped Zima’s helmet, powering up the laser link. “GO GO.” Zima hit the starter. The DPU purred to life. He twisted the throttle wide open.

  Mama charged after them.

  The DPU steadily picked up speed, while Mama gained on them. Mama swung her tentacles at them. Zima instinctively pulled his legs in tight. The massive claws at the end of her tentacles missed by centimeters. Mama may have been bigger than the other Keto, but she wasn’t as fast. The DPU began to pull away from her.

  Mama screamed. Zima felt her sonar call shiver through his body, shaking him and setting his ears ringing.

  Other calls came back. Farther out, but getting closer. Zima and Tanaka kicked frantically, trying to give the DPU a little more speed.

  Zima reached for the cage release. Tanaka slapped his hand away. “We’re not going back empty handed.”

  On the inside of his faceplate a red communication icon for the Cyrene turned green. Before Zima could say anything, Tanaka shouted, “Gianna, get moving!”

  Gianna? Zima wondered.

  Pilot called back, “Get aboard first!”

  Between straining breaths Tanaka ground out, “You need to—get in motion or—none of us get out. We’ll catch you—on the fly.”

  As the world shaking calls of Mama fell behind, more calls answered her, steadily growing louder.

  They saw the Cyrene in the distance. The submarine’s powerful searchlights lit up the water in front of the bow. When
she had reached the rendezvous point, Pilot had let the submarine coast. Now it sluggishly accelerated.

  Zima brought the DPU along the side of the submarine. Going flat out, the DPU matched the Cyrene’s current speed. Tanaka caught a mooring bracket and pulled them close. He had to strain as the Cyrene picked up speed. With Tanaka holding them in place, Zima hand to manhandle the cage off the DPU. Once he almost lost his grip on the DPU. If he fell off that would be it—they’d never be able to circle back before the Keto were on him.

  Hauling the cage with one hand, he grabbed Tanaka’s bracket. Together they kicked the DPU out from the sub. They latched the cage to the brackets.

  “We’re on the hull, Gianna,” Tanaka said into his headset.

  “Hold tight,” Pilot answered.

  Zima felt a rumble, then heard a sound like a pot of water boiling. He felt a charge of water brush past his leg. She’s blowing the ballast tanks.

  The sub angled sharply upward. The Cyrene climbed for the dark waters far above the ocean floor. Pilot cut the lights. Soon the glow from the coral vanished behind them. The Cyrene raced through the darkest waters on Khione.

  The calls from the Keto grew distant and changed tone. Zima swore the sonar blasts sounded outraged.

  It took three days to get back to Naxos station. Meacham was fascinated by the idea of a pet Keto and offered to go out to care for it. Tanaka took the mechanic aside and told him that if he so much as touched that cage, they’d feed Meacham to the pup.

  Zima sweated the whole way. How did you care and feed an alien monster? An intact Keto corpse would be valuable, but not nearly as valuable as a living pup. Their only hope was to get there as fast as possible. They stopped just once, so Tanaka and Zima could catch native fish. Zima had heard somewhere that scared animals normally don’t eat. This little monster devoured the fish and flung the bones at him.