Aebris Rising: A Science Fiction Thriller by Benjamin X. Wretlind

Author:Benjamin X. Wretlind [Wretlind, Benjamin X.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction
Publisher: Genius...
Published: 2023-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

34

A

fter I pried Craig away from Nerisse, I wrapped up the Aebrisian in a blanket and let it be known in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth—or whatever it had—shut until we got inside the pleasure craft.

Marty stays with Craig?

“No.” This was going to be a disaster if my Nerisse started referring to himself as Marty and herself. It would have been better for all if the alien kept its true form, as hideous as it was. I didn’t know if that was possible. For the time being, I would refer to it—him, her—as Nerisse.

I checked the passageway before leading Craig and Nerisse out of my quarters. It was empty, which at this time of day could be expected. The one good thing about being sentenced to life on a Minor Pales prison rig was that inmates were free to move about, for the most part. And we policed ourselves. Except for the warden and a few security personnel (who were also inmates), there was freedom to move about. In that way, it made sense that many people volunteered to be sent to the planet and their watery grave than spend a minute inside the maximum security prisons orbiting Earth’s moon. At this time, most of the inmates were at work or asleep. There were only a few times during the day when this was a given. At other times, the innards of the Amesware Abyss were crowded.

Craig had his arms around Nerisse under the blanket. We headed toward the stairwell, which would take us down to the administration level where the docks were and—hopefully—Mason was waiting. Everything seemed to be going well, and even Craig seemed to understand the necessity for stealth above all else. As with most things that are going well, however, I’ve learned that it doesn’t always last. You think you’re on a winning streak when, in reality, the house is just playing with you, the servers are screwing with the drinks, and the hand you’re holding is about to be your last.

As we exited the stairs onto the administration deck and turned a corner, we were greeted by three fellow inmates, all members of the notorious chess gang who had killed the kitchen supervisor, resulting in my promotion. I could have thanked them, but I wasn’t in the mood. The muscle, Heinrich, was a six-foot-seven, three-hundred-twenty-five pound forger who dabbled in stabbing people. He rubbed his shaved head and snarled in a way that suggested both irritation and stomach gas. I hoped it hadn’t been caused by my bean fritters, but you never knew how a body would react to so much fried food. Next to him was Junior, a fan of breaking and entering. He could have been sentenced to six months in an Earthbound prison had he not broken the legs of two of the guards who had been transporting him to the courthouse. That violence—and three similar attacks later in the same week—earned him a one-way ticket to paradise, otherwise known as Minor Pales.

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