CHAPTER 2: A BEING OF ETHICS AND MORALS

Captain Marcia Wendt strode down the hallway of the Oubliette with several officers behind her, surveying the level of damage from the magnetic asteroid strike. Level 2 had vented when a large asteroid tore open the hull, causing both the guards and prisoners stationed on that level to die, either out in space, or inside from lack of oxygen. Three hundred and twenty in all. But, damage on other levels was more contained. Beyond level 2, they only had 9 casualties, and a number of broken bones and bruises from the bumpy ride.

After the jump, they’d utilized drones to install a flexwall across the damage to level 2. Then the staff that could be recovered were given funerary services, and the dead prisoners were put through the burner. But, none of the damage or deaths concerned Captain Wendt quite so much as the disappearance of prisoner 519F. Although she’d been captain of the Oubliette for only six months, she already knew that 519F’s imprisonment had a number of strange mysteries surrounding it. For instance, his true name appeared nowhere in his documentation. His place of origin was completely redacted. And for each month they held 519F following the official procedures, the Oubliette received bonus pay equal to their entire salaries. This was a much better incentive than what they got for keeping the prisoner behind the red door secured. Because unbeknownst to much of the crew, if the prisoner behind the red door ever escaped without the Captain’s authorization, the ship would self-destruct.

“Is there a reason we didn’t detect the magnetic asteroid storm?” Wendt asked Dr. Lloyd, the ship’s head engineer.

“Old prison ships like this were built before magnetic asteroids were well understood. Most have been retrofitted, but this one seems to have been overlooked.”

“Not like the Regata to overlook something so crucial,” Wendt replied, frowning. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We need to inspect every inch of the ship, inside and out. I don’t want something to fall loose during a jump and we lose another level. Officer Felix, do you have anything to report about 519F?”

Officer Felix stepped forward, his gait strong and confident. Although he wasn’t Head of Security yet, as soon as his predecessor retired, he’d be next in line. With one click of the portable viewcorder on his wrist, he displayed a holoscreen showing the security camera footage they’d captured: a naked man with long white hair scrambling down the hallway on Level 2, carrying a severed head under his arm. He suddenly stopped and stood just below the camera, looking up at the device for a number of seconds before pitching the head at it, knocking it askew to no longer show the hallway.

“Right. That would be the best place to hide since it’s only maintenance crews on level 2 at the moment, trying to put a more permanent patch in place. We need to keep him there. I want additional patrols on Level 5, just in case he gets the idea of letting others out to cause chaos. Otherwise, take everyone who isn’t repairing something or in the medical bay to level 2 for searching.” Wendt shook her head, her jaw tightening as she held up a hand. “Use tranq guns filled with the slurry if you can. That stuff will neutralize his powers. If not, shoot him in the head.”

-*-*-*-*-

Prisoner 519F crouched inside the hollow wall space he’d found. His knees hurt. His arms hurt. Everything hurt. He’d been chained in one position in that chair for fifty years. Before that, it had been another chair, on another ship, and another ship before that. And then, long before the ships, a desolate prison on some godsawful moon. He couldn’t remember what was before the moon. A dungeon? There was a dungeon in a castle, at some point. Oh, and he’d been held in an underwater tank. Every hundred years or two, he’d get moved somewhere new, just in case.

Over a thousand years now. Two thousand? More? Had he been forgotten? Or had they simply gotten lazy? It didn’t matter, he supposed. He had absolutely NO intention of getting locked back up.

Draining any human to death allowed prisoner 519F to access core memories from a person’s mind. He’d learned a few things from killing Officer Alvin Breaker. The code for the door. The protocols of the prison guards on this ship. And most importantly, he’d learned about an interesting prisoner kept under even more security than himself. What were they hiding behind the red door, and how could he get in there to find out?

He needed more information. But, he couldn’t just use just anyone to get the secrets he required. No. He'd constructed a list, and first on that list was Dr. Lloyd, the ship’s head engineer, a man currently sleeping just on the other side of the panel. It hadn’t taken too much doing to get into Dr. Lloyd’s private berth. A custodial technician’s body now lay at the bottom of the trash compactor, drained of blood, deprived of a swipe card, and missing pants. Normally, Prisoner 519F didn’t care for wearing the clothes of others, but with as much crawling around as he’d been doing, it had become necessary.

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519F waited until he heard the faint snore of a sleeping man, and slid the metal panel he’d unscrewed earlier aside to allow him out of the crawlspace. He stood after placing the panel on the floor as quietly as possible. Upon the single bunk, he could see the unsuspecting engineer, face placid, laying on his back, right hand dangling off the mattress.

The ex-prisoner darted to the bed and instantly lept on top of his prey, straddling the man in such a way as to pin Dr. Lloyd’s left wrist under his knee. He caught the other wrist as the man began to struggle, and used his free hand to grab the head engineer by the throat.

“I don’t like your beard,” 519F said as the man’s cry for help cut off from the pressure to his throat. “It’s all scraggly down your neck.” He shoved the man’s face to one side, looking at the poor maintenance of the man’s facial hair. “It will get in my mouth.”

Despite prisoner 519F’s personal preferences, Dr. Lloyd did not appear to desire to have any piece of himself inside 519F’s mouth. The engineer's eyes grew wider as he struggled more, trying to thrash his legs to unseat the intruder, and roll him off the bed. But 519F weighed more than he should -- as if someone had filled him with rocks instead of organs. “Please,” the engineer croaked, trying to squeak out anything through the grip on his neck. “Please don’t… Wife…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” 519F cooed, “I need to apologize to you.”

This caused Dr. Lloyd to calm somewhat. Apologies might mean some hope for exiting this situation with his life.

“I’m sorry. I don’t enjoy hurting people.” Prisoner 519F inhaled slightly, making a clicking noise with his tongue. “No, that’s not right. I very much enjoy hurting people. But, I don’t want to kill people. I’m a humanitarian. You can comprehend that even I, a criminal, may have some level of morality, yes?”

Dr. Lloyd nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. He wasn’t sure what the man wanted.

“Killing people for no reason is a waste. I don’t like waste. Hedonism is fine, but waste? Waste is the domain of the morally bankrupt. The playground of the greedy and the disrespectful. Don’t you agree?”

This time, Dr. Lloyd only nodded, his glimmer of hope growing.

“So I want you to know, to understand deep within you, that I would never kill you for no reason.” Prisoner 519F smiled gently, his voice having lulled down into a sweet, soothing purr. “That’s not the type of person that I am. I am a moral being, an ethical being. I’m on a quest to save humanity. You understand?”

A faint, “Yes” croaked out of the engineer’s lips, barely audible.

The delight on the 519F’s face as he replied, “Good!” only barely registered in Dr. Lloyd’s mind before sharp fangs tore into his throat.

-*-*-*-*-

In a featureless cell on level 5, the alien creature slept curled in a pile of bones. Eventually, he would eat the bones, cracking them open with teeth stronger than steel, and digesting them in stomach acid so potent it could dissolve anything short of metal. To pass the time, he often used one of his claws to slowly chip away at a piece of bone, molding it into a figurine. Like his teeth, those claws possessed a density harder than steel, making them useful weapons in any battle. But, he’d not been in a battle for a long time. The animals tossed into his cell died upon impact, mostly.

The creature spread his hand out against the ground as he listened carefully to the ship. There had been a few minutes, earlier, where the gravity had failed. The creature, however, could not float to the top of his cell due to the single manacle affixed to his ankle. They had made the chain out of tetrasteel nanofiber, one of the strongest substances known to these humans. He couldn’t destroy it with his claws or teeth even with the decades he’d had to work at it.

He couldn’t hear the voices in the other rooms, but he’d smelled something that had prickled his senses and driven him to make ready for anything. Blood. Human blood. A lot of human blood. And fear.

The creature lifted the skull of the goat they’d tossed to him some time ago and peered into the hollow eye sockets. His claw slowly traced the hole. How strange to think of the journey this beast made, from someplace idyllic and green to this horrific prison, only to die by being dropped down a shaft and torn apart by a hungry beast. He missed the outdoors so that he’d saved the beast’s hoof, just to smell the grass it once trampled.

Grass. The grasslands. His tribe. Sunlight. Running.

A woosh noise caught his attention. He’d heard that sound many times before. It was the door at the top of the shaft. But, that made no sense. He’d not be fed for weeks yet, not until the bones in his cell had mostly been consumed. The creature sat up slowly, his long black hair draping around his body like a cloak. Every part of him was lean muscle, giving him a sleekness of form bereft of any extra weight to impede his swiftness. Casting his green-eyed gaze upwards, he spotted a shadowy figure peering down at him from the hatchway. A woman wearing a uniform, but not one of the guards. Kitchen staff, perhaps?

“He has sent me to greet you, and wish you good tidings,” she called.

The creature didn’t blink. “Who?” His voice, a grating, dissonant thing issued from him with somber confidence. Usually, when people heard it, they cringed. She didn’t.

“My master. I don’t know his name. I’ve…only met him once. But, I am to give you two gifts.”

Narrowing his eyes, the alien slid to his feet. Gifts… One did not just give gifts and expect nothing in return. He watched as the woman produced a folding knife. She opened it, then closed it again and dropped it into the shaft where it landed in a waiting clawed hand.

“There’s a tracking beacon in your right arm, hidden between the two bones below the wrist. He says you need to dig it out.”

A tracking beacon? He didn’t know the terminology, but he could glean that it likely allowed them to follow him. A machine, most likely. Humans did like their machines. Weak as they were, they needed machines to achieve almost anything. He responded only, “I will.”

“Good. That will please my master. I also offer you his other gift, which I hope will give you great joy. Please accept it in the spirit in which it is bestowed.”

Then, with a smile on her face, the woman dived from the hatchway, fell fifty feet down the shaft, and died upon impact.