Guilty. I was guilty of murdering my daughter’s rapists, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Those three men deserved far more than I gave them. Our “Justice System” didn’t see it that way of course and sentenced me to 60 years onboard the Prison Archology Project or PAP.
I and 20,000 other violent criminals sat down inside the shuttle waiting to leave the earth and join our new home in the skies. The seat locked me into place and I looked out the window and saw rows and rows of hopeless men in their prison orange suits lining up to enter the shuttle. Death was on their faces and hope was nowhere to be found in that sea of orange.
I had stayed informed with Jamie Goldstein’s reporting of the Rift and the stories that came out of the Icarus Rift were horrifying. Prisoners in mech suits delving into the maw of the Rift fighting who knows what kind of evil that lay within. Those who survived came back calling it the Dungeon. A sort of multi-dimensional portal connecting multiple universes together and the insane mind-bending cave systems within spawning all sorts of bizarre stories.
The doors finally closed, the engines roared to life, and I looked outside the window and wondered if I’d ever be coming back. I had fought for what I thought was right and now who was fighting for me? We soared into the sky, and I saw the world get smaller and smaller.
The intercom turned on and a captain of the PAP spoke, “Welcome to the Prison Archology Project” our flight will be 4 hours until we dock at the archology at which time will begin our 3-year journey to the Icarus Rift Battle Station. I know you all heard stories about the rift, so we want to show you more than just the carnage you’ll face that Goldstein, and the media doesn’t want you to know about. The seat ahead of me had a built in tv and a video started up.
The narrator began, “the dungeon as it is commonly called, was first connected to our universe 103 years ago in an area of space known as the Icarus Rift. After the first discovery team found extraordinary oddities happening around the rift an expedition was soon sent to contain and utilize this unique opportunity.” The tv showed a massive tear in space and heat pouring out of it giving off the light of a small star. massive solar arrays unfurled and started drinking in the energy. The narrator continues, "It took some time before we could build a system large enough to capture the energy coming out of the rift. It was during this period that stranger things started happening." Massive amounts of earth began pouring out of the rift, the debris forming together to create a small crescent-shaped planet with the rift’s opening at the center of the curve. "At this time," the narrator resumes, "the rift began going into cycles, spewing a small moon's worth of material in a short time and then lying dormant for three years. During its dormant cycle, thousands of creatures would exit the dungeon. Most of these creatures fought and killed each other shortly after leaving the dungeon, but the survivors spread throughout Icarus."
The video then shows a massive plant monster reaching out and crawling onto the planet, followed by another clip of thousands of flying insects emerging from the dungeon and nesting on the opposite side of the planet. The final scene depicts nukes detonating, decimating the insect colony as they battled with the tree.
“Your job will be to train in our mechanized all-terrain fighting suits and delve into the dungeon to map it out and to work alongside our military to protect our galaxy from this inter-universal threat.” The video then panned to thousands of offenders training with VR goggles to operate the mechs. The camera pans to a rough man standing proudly beside his mech and he says, “After my deployment in the dungeon I can truly say I am serving my time. Every day I don the mech I am serving my communities by creating a better tomorrow.” The video ends showing the symbol of the PAP an eagle protecting its nest, and above the symbol reads, “Fighting for a safer world.”
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After the video was over groans and shouts were heard throughout the shuttle. one offender even shouting, “I ain’t going to die by some bug CO I ain’t gonna do it!” He violently fought against his restraints and started foaming at the mouth, his chair then let out a warning sound shocked him, and he soon passed out in his seat.
As we approached the prison arcology, its vastness became overwhelming, stretching for more miles than I could count. Row after row of cannons and mech bays reminded us we were not traveling for leisure. Below the armor plating laid expansive biodomes housing lush, green environments, a stark contrast to the cold, steel exterior. The arcology's immense hull was dotted with observation decks and docking bays, each teeming with activity. The enormity of this floating city was humbling, a testament to humanity’s will to fight for its existence, and we prisoners were just along for the ride.
I was assigned to housing unit 23 floor 17 towards the bottom of the archology. The housing units were arranged like x’s. At the center of the “x” was the rotunda a circular room where the officers stayed during their shifts, and each wing branched out from the rotunda housing 400 men. Outside our housing unit, stores and canteens were scattered across our floor of the arcology. The total PAP housing over 4 million people.
We were all given collars that served many functions: All swearing coming out of the offender was muted, If the offender misbehaved to a correctional officer the collar shocked him, If the offender tried to escape it would paralyze him for a time. If he started getting depressing thoughts, it reported him to the mental health AI. It took all of 2 seconds for the offenders to find clever ways to circumvent the cursing restrictions and soon a slurry of new inventive swears were creative. My personal favorite coming back from the south was “dingleberry” it apparently was old enough for the system to view it as not threatening and acceptable. We were all given numbers mine was H16199707, and marked my time no longer as a person but a resource for the Empire to throw at the dungeon hoping if enough fodder was fed to the grinder it would eventually break.
My cell was a simple testament to the cold, impersonal nature of the arcology. Neon lights far too bright displayed all the soot in the room, reminding me of all the work needed to make this dingy place livable. The single cot, bolted to the floor, was covered with a thin, threadbare blanket, and a small, built-in desk glowed with the faint light of a holographic interface, its screen displaying a rotating array of training feeds and mandatory psychological assessments. The old mattress was piss stained and needed to die but until a replacement could be found this was home for the next 3 years.
The hum from the environmental controls filled the air, blending with muffled voices from the hundreds of offenders moving into their cells within the wing. The reinforced door, embedded with a biometric scanner and a small, heavily barred viewport, seemed to absorb any remaining warmth, its cold surface a reminder of the unyielding security measures in place.
I sat on my cot and wondered how my life had become this hell. I felt a deep shame for not being home to help my hurting family and I felt a rage take flame in my heart that justice had not been served. I took my ID and scratched on the back, “Don’t give up.” The PAP will not break me, and these invaders will feel my wrath and when They come to fight me, they will learn what fear truly means.
Somewhere high within the PAP a report was being submitted, “Colonel, I have a list of all offenders with a high willpower score that would make for potential candidates in the magical integration project.” 1,274 names were on a list and somewhere in the middle Max Wyatt’s name sat with a 95% potential match for dawn warrior.