1.17.1

Grave Implications

“You’re the party we’ve been expecting?”

“Yes,” Commander Kendall informed them. “We’re here to pick up a few extras for our operation.”

“You prepared to pay?”

“You sell your prisoners?” Anders interjected with a scowl.

“We get paid to keep them. We lose that income when they leave.”

“Yes,” Karth intervened through the fence. “We can pay.”

“Aright. I’m opening the gate.”

With a loud whir of a nearby motor, the fence rolled open on screeching wheels.

The team was brought beyond a second set of fences, to the front entrance of the structure marked between hard, squared, columns.

They followed into an enclosed Administration atrium. Despite the barren desks, no receptionist or clerk posted duty. Instead, a severe-looking man in grey armor awaited them from a raised level at the head of the room.

At a set doors behind him, two more men posted duty.

The stranger easily dismissed the escorting guards to return to gate. And in the moments after, Astrid looked to their surroundings.

Despite the lack of immediate staff, the place looked clean, if worn. The stonework that made up the outside continued within, with neither tile nor linoleum to feign any semblance of an office. Bright, buzzing lights sat mounted from above to itch at her senses.

It was a cold, tasteless place. Yet it felt oddly familiar, and sickening, to consider it might well resemble a Sanctuary.

“I am Warden Holden Graves. Welcome to Wells Penitentiary,” the lanky host declared. “You’ll understand the heavy security, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” Karth replied as he led the team through the vacant lobby. “We expected no less.”

“To what does Wells Pen owe your company?”

Astrid noted that Warden Graves did not move to meet them. He expectantly awaited their approach.

“It is our understanding your tenants can be leased. For a price. We find ourselves in need of men.”

“Is that so?” The greying warden scrutinized from his perch as if to dissect them. “And what is it, exactly, that you’re looking for?”

“Someone trained in military tactics. Here on lesser charges, if possible.”

“These are all dangerous criminals, Commander…?”

“Kendall. Karth Kendall.”

“Well, Commander Kendall, our prisoners here are well fed, well exercised, and some do have combat experience. But we have been without the aid of a supervising mental health professional for some time. We cannot attest to the sanity, or lack thereof, of any inmates worthy of your interest. Some of these men and women are convicted of very serious crimes.”

“Perhaps you would permit us to interview the prospects ourselves then,” Karth negotiated. “Beyond that, their condition is our risk to measure.”

The warden presented an unseemly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Very well, Commander. This way, please.”

As the man turned from his platform, the garish fluorescents flashed across his gear. And Astrid caught the edges of the emblem buffed within. Three interlocked cogs.

“Anders,” she breathed.

“I saw it.”

By then, the warden reached the fore doors, and in stiff posture, parted them for the party to enter.

The assigned guards remained behind, and the four visitors funneled into a wide hall beyond, devoid of color or comfort. Warden Graves returned to the head of the pack to lead them deeper without a word.

Only when Karth posed inane questions about how they controlled the criminal population, did Tenya dare to mutter to her surrounding squadmates.

“They didn’t take our weapons.”

“Yup…” Anders replied.

Even Astrid knew a true jailor never would have consented to armed admission.

He’s not worried about us, she realized. Or perhaps, as she rather hoped, the S.O. remained truly ignorant that they were being investigated at all.

But equally likely, it could mean the enemy already set plans in motion for just such an occasion. And the Aldebaran’s crew strolled into a trap.

The long halls offered no relief. As if stripped of decor and support staff, one passage looked nondescript from the next. Astrid did her best to memorize their turns and knew her companions would be doing the same.

Warden Graves paused to pass them through two separate sets of security checkpoints and caged holdings. Added obstructions to those locked inside.

Yet, in nearly six minutes, they crossed only one armed guard patrolling the halls.

“You seem a little understaffed,” Karth observed.

“At this time of day most our inmates are still working the quarry and refinery. The majority of our enforcement detail is down there to monitor the situation. Those that remain above are detained to their cell blocks.

“Communally, or individually?”

“According to their level of hazard, of course,” the warden readily supplied, his tone dressed in a smarmy purr.

It made Astrid’s neck hair stand on end. She stayed closed to the others while they were routed deeper and deeper within the grounds.

“And you’ve had no escapes or riots?” Karth tried again.

“The last only made it as far as the nearest ridge. The closest settlement is nearly six hours away by shuttle. Internees would have to steal one to get very far, and very few of them can pilot, let alone breach the facility’s security protocols. They know they have nowhere to go.”

Finally, their host came to a second set of double doors marked for visitation. At the entrance, Graves turned on his heel to address them.

“Through these doors you’ll find the Visitation Center. Across the room, are the facilities. I’ll have my men bring you candidates one at a time, and you can interview at your leisure. Just let my men know when you’ve made a decision.”

“Thank you, Warden,” Karth nodded.

“My pleasure.”

The oily man slinked off, leaving the quartet to trade anxious glances.

“I don’t like this,” Anders professed. “I think we can safely say who’s involved here.”

“Maybe the inmates will know whether there’s been a change in management recently.” Karth pushed through the doors into the waiting room beyond.

Small, vacant tables dotted another plain chamber. Empty of all other souls.

“They sure don’t get a lot of visitors, huh?” Tenya speculated. The chief cautiously inspected the austere walls.

“It is out of the way,” Karth commented.

“Yeah, or there’s no one left worth visiting,” Anders replied.

Minutes ticked by. And no one came to meet them. No guards, and no prisoners.

With growing unease, the team grouped closer, with careful watch on both sides of the room.

“Anything?” Dell buzzed in their ears.

“It’s taking awhile,” Karth informed with increasing trepidation.

“This place is sketching me out.” Tenya crossed her arms over her plated stomach.

“Steady,” Karth told her. “No one knows anything yet.”

With a dull thud, the entrance they’d taken relinquished a horrid grinding sound. As though a lock bar slid into place behind the steel to barricade it shut.

The group shared a tense look to verify the others heard the same.

They turned to the far wall, and the only remaining door.

“Think we should try it?” Tenya asked.

Just as she finished the query, the metal portal slid open, and a guard filed in. Then another. And another. Fully armored with weapons in hand.

“Nope,” Anders answered needlessly.

A crackling intercom pierced the stale air of the chamber while a fifth and sixth guard pushed into the room and shut the access behind them.

The warden’s voice droned coarsely through the aging tech.

“I can’t believe you were brazen enough to use your real name, Commander Kendall. I might’ve bought your story.”

“If you know who I am then you know this move will make you enemies,” the commander called back to the ceiling.

“Spread out.” Anders whispered ordered quickly under his breath. “Stick close to the tables. We’re only going to get a second.”

“You know what I like about covert operatives?” The warden’s voice mocked while his men fell into stance between them and the single exit ahead. “No one notices when they go missing.”

It was the only warning they were given before the shooting line opened fire.