The Rhino Score (2)
May. 24th, 2011 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwrnmnbsolPart two. Where am I going? I do not know. Let's find out.
Our trip through the Balboa City justice system was nasty, brutish and short, full of unpleasant things such as judgment and justice. Me and Lopez were sent up to the Tierra Salvador maximum security prison unit. And when I say 'sent up' I mean it literally.
The unit was a series of interlocked tubes, strictly zero gravity, at some annoying Lagrangian point in the system. Space is a natural match with incarceration; it's harder to get up to shenanigans in freefall, you can quell riots by lowering the oxygen mix, and it's impossible to tunnel your way out with a spoon.
Of course me and Lopez were old pros at jail. We had an informal kind of competition to see who could smuggle more stuff in using their rectum. I had Lopez beat on volume, but my Weasard engineer was a more efficient packer. Between the two of us we brought in a substantial amount of the local currency (Tierra Salvador reverted to cash after the Third Crash and never switched back), several tabs of painkillers, a comm bud, and a slim stunrod (well played, Lopez; well played). While the other new inmates were retching from zero-G sickness, me and Lopez were doing cartwheels and casing the joint for weak points. I figured we'd be kings of the stir in a week and own it in five.
They locked us in the Special Hazards Security Wing – me because I'm from a 1.4G homeworld, and Lopez because nobody trusts a weasel. The row of cells lined the cylinder, with duralloy bars facing inwards; there was zero privacy, and we had a great view of our company. Mostly our companions were tough-looking Chulkos – squat, hairy brutes with barbed tongues and violent tempers – but there was a pile of something lurking in the corner of one cell. It was green and spiny. I recognized it.
"Grabsy?" I called, pressing my face up to the bars. "Is that you, you stupid plant?"
The heap slowly straightened itself up and thrust itself to the front of its cell. It looked like a three-meter saguaro with a face – a face only a mother cactus could love. It spat a glob of something that began to lazily float around the center core.
"Jackpot," Grabsy grated. "It's good to see you. It's easier to kill you when I can see you."
"Always sentimental, our Grabsy," I informed Lopez, who was in the next cell over. "Grabsy, please meet my chief technician Lopez. Lopez, this is Grabsy. He's a Carnegiean."
"Oh, yeah? I heard about you guys." Lopez scratched behind one of his ears. "Engineered for military starship work, yeah? Tough skin, so you don't decompress in hard vacuum."
"I like your pet," said Grabsy. "Looks edible."
Lopez waggled a finger. "Bad cactus!" he said.
"He's prickly," I explained.
"I'm a fuck-you-lent," grinned Grabsy. His teeth were a grainy brown.
"I haven't seen you since that job on Platte's Star," I said. "How've you been?"
"Not so good," Grabsy grunted. "I'm in here with you assholes."
"What're you in for?"
"Fighting."
Lopez boggled. "Tough sentence to get sent up to maximum security for fighting."
Grabsy shrugged lazily. "With a baby?"
"Ah," I said.
"Hey, she started it," said Grabsy defensively. "Called me 'dada'."
"Now me and Lopez, we're completely innocent," I said. "We didn't steal nothing."
"Although, to be fair, that was out of incompetence," said Lopez, flashing me a look which I ignored.
"I don't give a shit," Grabsy said. "Hey, you still flying that stupid hunk of crap? _Petunia_, wasn't it?"
"No," I said sadly. "I lost her in a game."
"A game, huh?" said Grabsy, picking his own teeth with one of his spines. "Poker? Dice?"
"Chicken," I said.
"You oughta see the other guy," supplied Lopez.
Grabsy sucked on his teeth. "I've decided not to kill you," he said out of the blue.
"Oh, that's nice," I replied. "Isn't that nice, Lopez?"
"It is," Lopez confirmed. "But I'm wondering why you're feeling so nice all of a sudden, Grabsy?"
"Because you shitheads are too cocky by half," said Grabsy. "Nobody's that cocky in stir unless they have a plan to get out. When you go, I go, or I'll give you guys hugs you'll never forget."
I considered Grabsy. Violent, check. Ridiculously strong, check. Generally useful in a scrape, but otherwise completely disposable. I made up my mind.
"I'll do you one better," I said. "I haven't given up on the score me and Lopez came here to do. If we all bust out, you can tag along and we'll cut you in for a share."
"Yeah?" said Grabsy, clearly interested despite himself. "What's the target?"
"Not in front of all these snitches," I scoffed. "First let's get out of here. Lopez, you still got that comm bud?"
"I do," said Lopez, stuffing it into one of his ears.
"Right," I said. "Spoof us an interplanetary call. We're gonna call the Swami. He owes us one."
Lopez patched the call through the prison's switchboard, mimicking the warden's personal communication code to make a priority cross-systems call, and rang up Swami.
"Hi, Swami!" said Lopez brightly. "Me and Jackpot are in prison! What are you up to?" He nodded, then turned to me.
"He says he's in prison too," Lopez confided. He then listened intently.
"Oh," Lopez corrected, "but he's only in prison voluntarily, he says. Something about it being the safest place to be for right now."
"Ask him if he can bust us out of here," I said.
Lopez relayed my message. "He says there's not a lot he can do from ninety light years away," said the Weasard, "but he's got some resources in this system and he'll see what he can organize."
"Beautiful," I said. "Good old Swami. Ask him if there's anything we can do for him?"
Lopez listened. "He said he has a little something lined up stealing payroll from the Imperial Guard," said Lopez. "Are we interested, later on when we're free?"
"Maybe," I said. "We got our own score for now."
"Swami says maybe we could cut him in on that, then."
I nodded. If me and Lopez couldn't score the rhino ourselves, maybe we could by adding the services of a supergenius and a homicidal cactus.
We cooled our heels.
Our trip through the Balboa City justice system was nasty, brutish and short, full of unpleasant things such as judgment and justice. Me and Lopez were sent up to the Tierra Salvador maximum security prison unit. And when I say 'sent up' I mean it literally.
The unit was a series of interlocked tubes, strictly zero gravity, at some annoying Lagrangian point in the system. Space is a natural match with incarceration; it's harder to get up to shenanigans in freefall, you can quell riots by lowering the oxygen mix, and it's impossible to tunnel your way out with a spoon.
Of course me and Lopez were old pros at jail. We had an informal kind of competition to see who could smuggle more stuff in using their rectum. I had Lopez beat on volume, but my Weasard engineer was a more efficient packer. Between the two of us we brought in a substantial amount of the local currency (Tierra Salvador reverted to cash after the Third Crash and never switched back), several tabs of painkillers, a comm bud, and a slim stunrod (well played, Lopez; well played). While the other new inmates were retching from zero-G sickness, me and Lopez were doing cartwheels and casing the joint for weak points. I figured we'd be kings of the stir in a week and own it in five.
They locked us in the Special Hazards Security Wing – me because I'm from a 1.4G homeworld, and Lopez because nobody trusts a weasel. The row of cells lined the cylinder, with duralloy bars facing inwards; there was zero privacy, and we had a great view of our company. Mostly our companions were tough-looking Chulkos – squat, hairy brutes with barbed tongues and violent tempers – but there was a pile of something lurking in the corner of one cell. It was green and spiny. I recognized it.
"Grabsy?" I called, pressing my face up to the bars. "Is that you, you stupid plant?"
The heap slowly straightened itself up and thrust itself to the front of its cell. It looked like a three-meter saguaro with a face – a face only a mother cactus could love. It spat a glob of something that began to lazily float around the center core.
"Jackpot," Grabsy grated. "It's good to see you. It's easier to kill you when I can see you."
"Always sentimental, our Grabsy," I informed Lopez, who was in the next cell over. "Grabsy, please meet my chief technician Lopez. Lopez, this is Grabsy. He's a Carnegiean."
"Oh, yeah? I heard about you guys." Lopez scratched behind one of his ears. "Engineered for military starship work, yeah? Tough skin, so you don't decompress in hard vacuum."
"I like your pet," said Grabsy. "Looks edible."
Lopez waggled a finger. "Bad cactus!" he said.
"He's prickly," I explained.
"I'm a fuck-you-lent," grinned Grabsy. His teeth were a grainy brown.
"I haven't seen you since that job on Platte's Star," I said. "How've you been?"
"Not so good," Grabsy grunted. "I'm in here with you assholes."
"What're you in for?"
"Fighting."
Lopez boggled. "Tough sentence to get sent up to maximum security for fighting."
Grabsy shrugged lazily. "With a baby?"
"Ah," I said.
"Hey, she started it," said Grabsy defensively. "Called me 'dada'."
"Now me and Lopez, we're completely innocent," I said. "We didn't steal nothing."
"Although, to be fair, that was out of incompetence," said Lopez, flashing me a look which I ignored.
"I don't give a shit," Grabsy said. "Hey, you still flying that stupid hunk of crap? _Petunia_, wasn't it?"
"No," I said sadly. "I lost her in a game."
"A game, huh?" said Grabsy, picking his own teeth with one of his spines. "Poker? Dice?"
"Chicken," I said.
"You oughta see the other guy," supplied Lopez.
Grabsy sucked on his teeth. "I've decided not to kill you," he said out of the blue.
"Oh, that's nice," I replied. "Isn't that nice, Lopez?"
"It is," Lopez confirmed. "But I'm wondering why you're feeling so nice all of a sudden, Grabsy?"
"Because you shitheads are too cocky by half," said Grabsy. "Nobody's that cocky in stir unless they have a plan to get out. When you go, I go, or I'll give you guys hugs you'll never forget."
I considered Grabsy. Violent, check. Ridiculously strong, check. Generally useful in a scrape, but otherwise completely disposable. I made up my mind.
"I'll do you one better," I said. "I haven't given up on the score me and Lopez came here to do. If we all bust out, you can tag along and we'll cut you in for a share."
"Yeah?" said Grabsy, clearly interested despite himself. "What's the target?"
"Not in front of all these snitches," I scoffed. "First let's get out of here. Lopez, you still got that comm bud?"
"I do," said Lopez, stuffing it into one of his ears.
"Right," I said. "Spoof us an interplanetary call. We're gonna call the Swami. He owes us one."
Lopez patched the call through the prison's switchboard, mimicking the warden's personal communication code to make a priority cross-systems call, and rang up Swami.
"Hi, Swami!" said Lopez brightly. "Me and Jackpot are in prison! What are you up to?" He nodded, then turned to me.
"He says he's in prison too," Lopez confided. He then listened intently.
"Oh," Lopez corrected, "but he's only in prison voluntarily, he says. Something about it being the safest place to be for right now."
"Ask him if he can bust us out of here," I said.
Lopez relayed my message. "He says there's not a lot he can do from ninety light years away," said the Weasard, "but he's got some resources in this system and he'll see what he can organize."
"Beautiful," I said. "Good old Swami. Ask him if there's anything we can do for him?"
Lopez listened. "He said he has a little something lined up stealing payroll from the Imperial Guard," said Lopez. "Are we interested, later on when we're free?"
"Maybe," I said. "We got our own score for now."
"Swami says maybe we could cut him in on that, then."
I nodded. If me and Lopez couldn't score the rhino ourselves, maybe we could by adding the services of a supergenius and a homicidal cactus.
We cooled our heels.
