66) Every Thing That Drowns Me Makes Me Wanna Fly
Desert all around every day. Concrete block surrounding her by night. The only familiar feel of metal under her fingertips came from doors and bars.
She knew they'd come for her. No idea how they'd manage it, but she knew Mal like she knew her own body and Mal would never leave her to rot in this prison. (Or dry up and blow away considering her surroundings, but the sentiment was the same.) It might take time. She'd been here for at least three months.
Three months (or more, they didn't exactly have access to a calendar) of her daughter's life that she'd missed. Push that thought away before the pain became too bad, before she couldn't think of anything else. Three months (or more) of trouble that Mal would be getting into without her to get him out of it again. Though she had to admit River, Rick and Carolyn did remarkably well in that endeavor. An endless and thankless task but a necessary one if they wanted to keep flying.
She'd begun to get a reputation. The first day in the 'yard' she'd put a stop to the beating one 'guest' was taking from another. She'd heard someone mutter mockingly, 'there's a new sheriff in town' and another comment about it not lasting long.
Rumors of escape attempts, and how the guards would happily let you walk off into the desert. No walls here, no fence, gates or any sort of enclosure whatsoever. The desert did the guards' work for them. One-Eye told her when she'd asked about what's to stop her from walking away, "The desert. This rock's too hot. Terra only took on part of it, that's where the Penal Colony is. Nothing but nothing in all directions. You can walk but you'll die. And if the desert don't kill you, the guests will. They let us run wild, pick each other off."
Only one area of the prison actually resembled a prison from the vids. The main landing area. Made for the huge Alliance shuttles that transported several dozen prisoners at a time. A separate area for guards to come and go by shuttle, smaller and even more closely guarded. She'd heard. Hadn't actually seen that one. But it made sense. They wouldn't be importing or exporting guards by the dozen too often.
She'd made a point to learn as much about the prison as she could. Like most 'normal' citizens she didn't have a lot of working knowledge about high security prisons or 'Slams' as the 'guests' so quaintly referred to them. She recalled Rick referring to 'slams' and wondered exactly how dangerous Serenity's new gunhand/pilot was. According to One-Eye, her 'native' guide, there were jails, prisons and then there were Slams. Slams came in three different types, Max, Double Max and Triple Max. Dyton Penal Colony was a Double Max Slam. (Important to speak with the capital letters, conveyed the right amount of gravity, apparently.)
Zoë had looked around at their inhospitable (mild word that) surroundings and wondered aloud how much worse a Triple Max could be.
"Triple Max Slams...they ain't like this. Ain't got open air. Damn near all of 'em 're underground. Or somewhere you cain't breathe if you leave 'em,'' She was informed. "Guards are barely more'n inmates themselves. An' there ain't one 'guest' in 'em that ain't murdered more'n a dozen."
"So, not fine upstanding citizens like we have here," Zoë retorted dryly and got an amused snort from her companion.
"Nah," He shook his head. "This bunch are bible thumpin', prayer meetin', church goin' folks in comparison." He'd shrugged, "Don't mean this place ain't dangerous. Folks here might have the chance to get to the Penal Colony part of the prison but they're all here for a reason." He had advocated caution. And for the most part she'd agreed.
But she'd joined the Independent movement (and the Dust Devils after the war) for a good reason. At least she thought it was a good reason. She never could stand a bully throwing his weight around.
And now...well, she'd gotten that reputation and there was always someone that wanted to make themselves bigger by pushing a powerful (or who they perceived as powerful) person down.
"You're getting your strength back. Gettin' a reputation too. Three this time," One-Eye observed as Zoë wrapped her knuckles with strips of cloth torn from the hem of her prison jumpsuit. "Next time it'll be four or five. And after that six to seven. You're good, but eventually the numbers'll get you."
"Well, I'm not planning to be here much longer," Zoë knew her days as the new 'sheriff' were (as River might say) finite. She was good but a five to one fight was nearing the limit of her skills. "I've got friends comin' for me."
"Yeah," One-Eye had scoffed. "We've all got friends coming for us."
"Not like these you don't," Zoë shook her head.
That conversation had taken place two days ago. She had maybe one more day's grace before a larger group tried to take her on. If she won that fight, she'd get another three or four days and then there'd be too many of them. It always seemed to take them a couple days to gather either their nerve or their allies.
Today though...today the prison was abuzz with news. Some new 'guest', the guards were all tensed up like they were figuring on a riot, everybody on edge...
Zoë had heard the buzzing engine of an older shuttle near dusk last night but so far no one had seen the newcomer.
Crouched in the minimal shade of the cell block wall, an excellent position from which to survey the yard. Distant from the gates from which the prisoners were driven out each morning. Can't have the 'guests' enjoying the relatively cooler temperatures of their cells by day after all. Might get too comfortable.
She couldn't see who it was, but someone had come out of the gate, later than the rest of the crowd. Whoever it was moved like a tiger through tall grass, and in his wake the whispers sprang up like weeds.
One-Eye ambled over to her and took a seat without invitation, one of the few she'd tolerate closer than an arm's length. "They're sayin' the newest guest is some sorta legendary convict," He commented. He tended to do that. Talk off and on, imparting information or just his opinion. She didn't mind much. Always the chance to learn something new.
"Yeah?" She glanced at him for a moment before she resumed tracking the latest arrival through the crowd.
"Yeah," One-Eye nodded. "Word is he's been in gorram near every Triple Max slam there is. Started killing at sixteen. Got dozens under his belt."
"What was that you were saying about the 'guests' here bein' bible thumpin' types compared to the convicts in Triple Max?" Zoë wondered dryly as she kept her eyes on the yard.
"Why'd ya think everyone's havin' such a flippy hiss," One-Eye shrugged. "He's known the 'verse wide for bein' dangerous." He continued in that vein for a while as she watched the progress of the new inmate through the yard. When he wound down, she gave him a quick glance.
"Man have a name," Zoë wondered how anyone could live up to such a reputation without cutting such a bloody swath through the 'verse that anyone could track him.
"Yeah," One-Eye seemed to be working his way up to some grand reveal. The man did enjoy the occasional dramatics. He and Mal had that in common.
The murmuring rose in volume, closer, closer, until an absolutely huge man with goggles and a clean-shaven skull cut between two small groups nearby and came into her view, a sardonic smile on his face. "Richard B Riddick," He nodded to Zoë. "Escaped convict. Murderer."
Oh, now that greeting had put the yard in a tizzy and she stood, One-Eye pushing himself to his feet beside her. Beside her but out of range. Dumb the man wasn't. The crowd behind him muttered amongst themselves and she could hear bets being placed. The legendary convict against the new 'sheriff' and who would come out on top. "Zoë Washburne," She nodded back. "Soldier. Browncoat."
"Last I heard those ain't crimes," The huge man observed.
"Depends on who's makin' the laws," She shrugged.
That unconventionally handsome face split in a boyish grin that made him look about seventeen and full of mischief. "Yeah, there's always some excuse," He took a step forward and the crowd rustled like dry grass in the wind behind him. "How've you been holdin' up Zoë?" He extended his hand and she let the corner of her mouth twitch up in a half smile as she took it.
"Well, been holding my own, but I've been better," She admitted.
"You feel up to a walk," A tilt of his head, a slight movement of one huge shoulder. Why the man suddenly seemed so much bigger she couldn't say. The weight of that name maybe?
"I can run if I need to," Zoë shrugged back. "I take it there's a plan?"
"Yeah," He gestured towards the shade in which she stood. "You mind?"
"Help yourself," She nodded, and he smirked as One-Eye gaped back and forth between the two of them.
"Ya'll know each other?" His gaze stopped on Zoë, "You ain't ever said you knew Riddick."
"Didn't," She crouched in the shade again and watched as Rick folded gracefully into a similar position.
He also took up the explanation One-Eye so desperately and obviously wanted, "Zoë's First Mate of a cargo vessel." Rick shrugged again, his face turned towards the crowd, eyes invisible under the goggles. "I pilot the ship, act as a gun hand when it's needed, try to keep us out of trouble."
"How's that going," Zoë wondered.
"Pretty decent, though we had some excitement 'bout...a month back," A questioning tone to his voice, as if he wasn't quite sure of the timing. "Folks who'd been hunting for us finally caught up with the Captain."
"That must've thrilled him to death," She shook her head.
"Not so's you'd notice, no," He echoed her movement slowly. "So now we got two folk on the boat an' one of 'em we don't know so well."
"And the other," She had a bad feeling. What the hell had Mal gotten himself into while she was gone?
"Fella with a goatee, carries a big gun he calls Vera," Rick answered vaguely. She could appreciate him not using names. Too many ears in the yard. Too many who needed favors from the guards. Information was the only thing they had to trade and some of it was worth quite a bit.
"Before I ask about this plan," Zoë began. "Can you tell me a bit about who came up with it?" If he said Mal, she knew it'd be some insane plot involving a jail break in broad daylight, guns blazing, likely with the mule hurtling across the desert, guards in hot pursuit. Not that she wouldn't be grateful. But if that was the type of strategy they had to escape she was surprised Rick was in here with her.
"Oh, that pretty little thing you called the Pilot before me an' the Blonde came along," Rick's head turned slightly so she knew he was looking at her. "Then the Doc an' Mechanic an' me refined it some. We got about twenty-four hours before there're problems."
"Why're you here," She decided beating around the bush wouldn't get her very far. Rick liked playing cat and mouse too much.
"Known for two things," He looked out over the yard again. "Bein' one of the most dangerous hún dàns in the 'verse. And escapin' each an' every Slam they've put me in. Hell, they oughta pay me for showin' 'em the weaknesses in their walls."
She'd had the vague notion (before he began discussing the plan) that he'd gotten caught off the ship, by some merc crew or extremely lucky gang who knew what they had and cashed in. And that it had happened on Dyton because why else would he be here? That there'd been a plan in place and him getting caught put a crimp in the timeline or something. But the way he was talking...
"Who brought you in," Zoë wondered. It couldn't have been Mal, not until the warrants got canceled. The rest of the crew, except for Jayne, couldn't pass as bounty hunters either.
"A few familiar faces," Rick half smiled. "Bounty was pretty good too. Money'll come in handy I should think."
"You brung yourself in, to bust her out," One-Eye sounded like he couldn't believe it. Zoë didn't blame him. It did seem pretty diān dǎo.
"Yeah," Rick nodded. "You might could say that I'm all in." That phrase sounded a lot like Mal. Goggled eyes turned and faced her squarely. "So, I'm gonna ask again. You feel up for a walk?"
"Now or later on," Zoë wasn't sure how well that would fly with the guards. One of the most notorious escaped convicts in the 'verse just walking out of the prison? Not an hour after they'd turned him loose in the yard?
"Far as they know I'm blind in the sun," He smirked. "We could start now." A little head tilt that let her know he was evaluating her. "Looks like you could use a day's rest or so." He gestured around them. "Let the guards relax a bit. Tomorrow morning, first thing."
"Sounds good," Zoë nodded.
"Well good luck," One-Eye shrugged.
"You're welcome to tag along," Rick offered. Generous of him especially considering One-Eye still hadn't mentioned why he was imprisoned.
"I've only got two more years," The old prisoner shook his head. "I'll qualify for the penal colony then. That's easy work compared to this. And I'll have a chance of tasting free air again."
"Suit yourself," Rick's huge body unfolded from the crouched position he'd been effortlessly maintaining, and Zoë stood with him. "First thing tomorrow then. We move at one speed," He informed her flatly. "Mine."
"I can keep up," She nodded.
She'd expected some uproar, the guards to object, or someone to shout that they were crossing the line at dawn the next morning. But there was nothing.
Rick smirked as they passed the line of sensors that made up the 'fence' of the prison yard. "The guards are telling each other to let us die of thirst or starvation or heat stroke, they'll still get paid if we're on the books. Nobody'll care and the drifts'll cover our bones within two days. Basically, let us cook."
Zoë chuckled and waited until she couldn't see the sensors behind them anymore before she asked, "So I'm hoping there's more to this than us simply getting lost in the desert."
"Yeah, you could say that," He removed his goggles and did something to the frames. As she watched a red light began blinking on the right side of the goggles, close to his temple so it wouldn't mess with his vision. "River came up with this," He explained as they continued walking. "Kaylee and Simon dropped a crate with basic supplies about eight miles out. There's a transponder in the crate that'll signal when we've reached it, opened it up. This thing'll help us stay on course. We keep walking towards those rocks pretending to be mountains and Serenity'll scoop us up."
"Well let's not waste time," Zoë took a deep breath. "Emma's gettin' older by the minute."
Author's Note: So Zoë knows that Rick is Riddick. She's reacting pretty mildly considering, but I think if Mal sent in Badger to break her out, she'd go so long as someone besides Mal came up with the plan.
Chinese Translations:
hún dàns (bastard) (individual who has at least two biological fathers and one biological mother - bastard / scoundrel / bastard / hoodlum / wretch)
diān dǎo (To turn upside down / to reverse / back to front / confused / deranged / crazy)