Avon was aware of everything going on around him. He always was; it made for fewer unpleasant surprises. He had already had too many of those. In a ship full of murderers and thieves, it was not conducive to survival to not be on his guard at all times.
Avon noticed the sole female prisoner following Raiker, one of the ship's officers to the other end of the room. He had already identified the man as the sadistic, overachieving type who would enjoy abusing his power. Avon had no intentions of crossing paths with this man, not unless Raiker crossed his.
The female leaned forward to whisper something to Raiker. Raiker slapped her in the face.
"You'll come round! I can be VERY persuasive!" Raiker's response was loud and angry.
Spirited. If not very bright, thought Avon. He took a piece of paper from his top pocket
The woman said, "That one's going to enjoy giving us a hard time."
The thief said, "And you've improved his mood no end! Why couldn't you be nice to him?"
Avon thought, The thief actually has some intelligence. It does not do to antagonize the people who have power over you, unless you can do something about it.
The woman replied, "He's not my type."
The thief said, "You can't afford to be choosy now!"
The woman said, "Why else would I be talking to you?"
Avon was mildly amused though it didn't show on his face. He had learned long ago never to allow others to see how he was feeling. It was much safer that way and it was always good to keep others guessing as to what he would do next.
The thief responded, "Thanks!"
The woman said, "Pleasure."
Avon walked around behind them to an empty table and sat down.
The woman and two other men were nearby conversing. Avon had already identified one of the men as a thief. The man seemed proud of it.
Avon was interesting in the woman and the thief. He had long term plans, he had to get off this ship. Escape. As much as he didn't like trusting in other people, he knew that his only chance was to work with others who might have the same ideas. At least people who still seemed to have some fight left, unlike most of the drug-stupored prisoners who had accepted their fate.
Avon read the piece of paper again. He had lost count of the number of times he had done so. He had read it so many times it was already committed to memory. But he had to read it again. He couldn't help himself. It was the only thing he had left of Anna.
The Federation interrogators had taken great pleasure in allowing him to keep this one personal item before they delivered him to the holding facility. They cruelly reminded him at every opportunity that he was the cause of Anna's death.
I will get out of here, Anna. And I'm going to avenge your death. I promise you that.
Avon wasn't sure how he was going to manage it, but he was certain that with his intelligence, he would be able to think of something.
The woman turned to address Avon, "What've you got there?"
Avon responded, "Nothing." A nosy female. The last thing I need.
Anna was no one else's business.
Someone came through the doors and asked, "Do you know how those door panels work?"
An intelligent question. Though not very bright to ask that out loud. It makes it obvious you're planning something.
The thief responded, "No, not that type."
Of course not. Only a computer technician can open that type of security door.
Avon thought for a moment. He was looking for an opportunity to escape. This man seemed to have the same idea.
I prefer working alone but it might be more efficient to work together rather than at cross-purposes. It's obvious you're going to need my help to tackle the security doors.
He said to them, "It's simple enough. All authorized personnel have their palm prints filed in the computer. The blue sensor plate reads the print. If it conforms, the computer opens the door."
The man said, "Neat."
Avon replied, "Most computer-based functions are."
After that explanation, all you can say is "neat?" thought Avon.
The thief interjected, "Blake -- Kerr Avon. When it comes to computers, he's the number two man in all the Federated worlds."
Number two? Avon bristled. He was the top man, anyone in the business would know that. It was obvious to him that the thief was using the opportunity to take an Alpha down a peg or two. The lower grades always did. The ignorant fools. They substituted agression and hostility for brains. It was no wonder most of them rarely rose above their grading. He had held out some hope for the intelligence of the thief but it was clear that he was happy wasting his brains on cheap shots. Avon dismissed the thief from his mind. Instead, he studied the man who had asked the question about the panels.
The another man at the table said, "Who's number one?"
The thief replied smoothly, "The guy who caught him."
He turned to Avon, "You've got nothing to be ashamed of. D'you know, he came close to stealing five million credits out of the Federation Banking System."
Avon had enough of fools. At best they were irritating, at the worse, dangerous in their stupidity. This one is merely irritating.
The man who had asked about the door panels asked, "What went wrong?"
Another intelligent question. Now that you know I have the skills, you are trying to find out more about me. Very well. Let's see whether we can be useful to each other.
Avon answered, "I relied on other people. Why all the questions? Or is it merely a thirst for knowledge?"
He put Anna's paper back in his pocket. It was time to concentrate.
The man replied, "Not exactly. Having defined the problem, the first step towards a solution is the acquisition of data. You should know that."
Another sign of intelligence. You appear to have some analytical skill.
Avon said, "Define the problem then." Let's see how good you really are.
The man said, "How to avoid spending the rest of our lives on Cygnus Alpha."
Well, that's obvious.
The thief interjected, "That may not be a problem." He leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "I've heard a rumour that these prison ships don't actually go all the way to Cygnus. They wait until they're in deep space, and then quietly dump you out of an airlock."
Avon said, "You're a fool." Just the sort of gossip you would believe. That's such a preposterous idea that only a fool would contemplate it. Which you clearly are.
Avon was irritated. The thief had deflected all of their attentions with his rumours. Even Blake seemed to be caught up in this stupid idea. The interesting and useful conversation he was having with Blake had been stopped by stupidity. Avon no longer had any interest in talking to these people. His mind went back to thoughts of Anna.
The woman said, "They are on a fixed price contract. They get paid the same whether we get there or not. And hyperdrive running is expensive."
The thief said, "So they dump us and save themselves a trip!"
Blake turned to Avon and said, "Could it be altered?"
Avon responded in surprise. He had barely been paying attention. "What?"
Can what be altered? What is this fool talking about?
Blake said, "The running log. Could the readings be faked?"
By this crew? You've got to be joking. Have you noticed the condition of this ship?
Avon answered, "Only by a top-line technician. Nobody on this ship could do it." At least that should ease your little minds.
Blake said, "Except you."
Avon nearly laughed. Of course. Why should I be surprised? You're either a paranoid fool or a malicious one. No matter which way he answered, the others would all begin to suspect him. He was the only one on the ship capable of doing this moronic thing. Of course, none of these people had the brains to realize it was a stupid idea. He knew what Blake was doing and it made him angry.
Avon knew what he should have said. Well of course I can. But if you're implying that just because I can, that I would, then you're a fool. Of course, it would have been in an appropriately disdainful tone, but as often happened when he was verbally attacked, Avon's anger got the best of him.
I will answer your question. You want to know if I am the only one with the ability to do it in this ship?
He smiled and said, "Naturally." Avon got up and walked away from the table of fools.
As he walked away, Avon heard the woman say, "Was it wise to put that idea into his head?"
The thief said, "What idea?"
Well, at least neither of you automatically thinks that a total stranger you just met could be a psychopathic maniac who would murder them in their sleep just so that I can escape.
Blake said, "Oh, he's bright. He'd already thought of it."
You're not serious? Is that the new definition of bright people now? We're all homicidal maniacs? With that kind of brilliant reasoning, I'm surprised that they don't just ship us all off to a penal colony. With a brain like that leading them, it's no wonder most of your people were killed by the Federation. You got them killed didn't you, you fool? With your ignorance.
Avon was disgusted with the lot of them, as he generally was with most of humanity now. Brutish and brainless.
The thief said, "What? What?"
The woman said, "He fixes the log, the crew dump us, pocket the profit, and set him free."
The thief said, "That's immoral. The cold-hearted murdering -- let's kill him now before he can do it."
Just as I suspected would happen, you've got them all thinking of murdering me. Wonderful, four more months. Avon wished that for once, he wasn't always right. He started having regrets about his flippant answer. If that idiot, Blake, hadn't pointed out that I was the only one capable of fixing the log… And if it hadn't been for his own temper.
Avon never reacted well to people who pushed him. He had met too many in his life. The arrogant fools who oversaw his work; who used his mind to benefit themselves, leaving him nothing. That was why he had rebelled against their control. He had wanted to strike out and bring them all down. The only way these kinds of people could make him do what they wanted, was to force him. He would never do what they want willingly, and it made him full of anger and hatred towards them.
Here was Blake, the so-called hero of the people. Avon never had much time for heroes. In his experience, they always turned out to be lying, manipulative, two-faced hypocrites only concerned about their own agendas at the expense of everyone else. People like that made him ill. He was a fool for thinking, even for a split second, that Blake might be the exception to the rule.
Eight more months to Cygnus Alpha and I'll have to watch my back the whole time. Thanks for nothing, Blake. I can't go back and say I don't have the ability. Even if I tell everyone that I would never consider it, some of these murderers might think it safer just to get rid of me. When you finally realize you need my help to get off this ship, I'm going to make you work for it, Blake.
His primary objective now was to stay alive.