Prison Planet by Jake Elwood

Author:Jake Elwood [Elwood, Jake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-23T22:00:00+00:00

Tom trudged out of the ranks of enlisted men's huts and into the open area. Some prisoners were assembling a new table from planks cut from a tree trunk back when he'd first arrived and left to cure. The planks still oozed sap. The table wouldn't be much to look at – the cuts were uneven, the boards almost twice as thick in some places as others – but it would be just about as good as anything the prisoners had now.

“Hey. Thrush.”

He looked around, saw Hoskins sitting with another officer at the end of a long table, and went over to join them. Both men were gnawing on long strips of dried plantain. Hoskins pushed a rather small slice over to Tom as he sat down. Food was too precious to share carelessly.

“Thanks.” Tom took the strip of fruit and started chewing on one end.

“Have you met Lieutenant Khalili? This is Tom Thrush. Also a lieutenant.”

Khalili was an intense-looking man of about thirty, with the thickest, blackest hair Tom had ever seen. He wore a Strad officer's uniform. He nodded to Tom and swallowed. “Pleased to meet you.”

Tom nodded back.

Khalili said, “It's strange how much you miss the markings of rank. At least officers get a different uniform from the men. But I can't get used to not knowing who outranks whom.”

“All this democracy is vexing,” Hoskins said with a smirk. Khalili made a rude gesture and went back to chewing his plantain.

Tom said to Khalili, “I just noticed one of your men. I wanted to talk to him, but he went into a hut, and his friends wouldn't let me follow.”

Khalili looked suddenly wary. “The men can be territorial. Perhaps it's a national trait. All of us Strads tend to be like that.”

Which was a pretty clear warning, Tom decided. Don't throw your weight around with my men. He smiled. “They were quite correct. I wouldn't dream of complaining.”

The lieutenant relaxed somewhat.

“The man I noticed. He was somewhat unusual.”

All of Khalili's attention returned. All he said, though, was, “Oh?”

“Yes. He was …” Tom hesitated, seeking the right word. “Sleek.”

Khalili's thick eyebrows rose.

“Well-fed,” Tom elaborated. “Or at any rate, better fed than any other prisoner I've seen. He looked like a new arrival.”

Khalili shrugged. “We've had no new arrivals.” By the tone of his voice he was hoping Tom would change the subject.

“He also looked, um, how shall I put it? Carefree. Like he hasn't properly noticed that he's locked up.”

Hoskins looked from one man to the other, obviously curious. Khalili stared at Tom, his face blank. Then he sighed and shook his head. He glanced around to check for eavesdroppers, then leaned forward. “That was probably Sykes.”

Tom leaned in as well. “Sykes?”

“A sergeant. Born for prison, I think. If he hadn't been captured by the DA he'd be in one of our stockades by now.” Khalili shrugged. “Some men are born soldiers. Others are born leaders. He's a natural-born wheeler-dealer and petty crook.”

“Now you've got me interested,” Hoskins said.

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