He shook his head in quick, narrow arcs. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my Lady. Everyone must be escorted from the moment they pass Gate Prime and until they leave.” He looked up her and shrugged. “Orders, you understand?”
He was awfully nervous. Jaein did not like it when people were nervous around her. But she did her best to ignore it and kept herself in Warmface. She found it the best for acting friendly. Hopefully she wouldn’t have long to wait until the prison.
She gave a gentle smile, a slight twitch of the lips, and nodded. “I understand. You are just following orders.”
His relief was palpable. Jaein figured if anyone figured out how to turn nervousness into energy, this Bonasi would be a prime candidate to power a city. Peering hard down the corridor, she could just make out the next door.
“Before we get to the next door, Lady, who are you here to see?” Jaein glanced at him, wondering why he needed to know that. All he should need to know was that she was here for a prisoner. His crest and nose started to twitch again, faster this time, but he managed to struggle through it. “I do not mean to pry, but the next gate will need to know and it will just make things easier if I talk.”
She recognized the validity of that, and told him, “I am here to see Clint Stone. For personal reasons.”
She winced inwardly when she said that. She had only meant to keep as many specifics as possible to herself, but she had made it seem like her purpose here was of a wholly different nature. It was this damn Warmface. She was friendlier when wearing it, and she shared more than she should. This wouldn’t have happened if she had been in Hardface. Why was she not in Hardface, again?
“Um,” the nervous Bonasi said, interrupting her train of thought, “you mean like, the Clint Stone?”
“Is there any other Clint Stone?” she said, only partially serious.
“Uhh…”
Jaein was saved from having to explain the joke to the corporal by their arrival at the second gate. She stood back as the corporal stepped forward and called out, “Corporal Maryn, escorting Lady Night through to visit Prisoner, designated Clint Stone.”
He did not seem to be nervous booming out identification in front of a mammoth gate that could be filled with a dozen soldiers aiming plasma rifles at his head, but he could power a city when just talking to her? Ah. He was nervous around her.
“Clint Stone? The Clint Stone?” came the reply. Jaein rolled her eyes. Was it really that hard to accept that Clint was real and just move on?
“Yes, Clint Stone. Will you let us through?” Jaein called up at the guard.
“Right, just give us a second.”
The gate creaked and squealed as it lifted into the ceiling. Through the opening, Jaein could see a long narrow corridor, much like the one they had been walking through, and the third gate at the end.
She turned to the Corporal as they started on their way down and asked, “Do you ever oil the gates? They are rather loud.”
He gave a little laugh and shook his head. “Never. The gates were built right into the stone and we can’t get to the inner workings to fix them. I’ve always wondered how they built the damn things.”
“Built into the stone? How is that even possible?”
“Beats me,” said the Corporal, shrugging his narrow shoulders. “If I knew the answer to that, I’d been an engineer and not a prison guard.”
Gravel crunched under Jaein’s foot and she glanced at the ground. There hadn’t been gravel earlier. Corporal Maryn noticed her confusion and said, “There was a big pit here, before the Rebellion moved in and instead of filling it in with concrete, they just dumped the waste from the expansions here.”
“How deep was the pit?”
“Oh, about a hundred feet deep.”
She looked at him in surprise. “A hundred feet? Why was there a hundred foot pit in the middle a tunnel?”
“If I knew why the previous builders did what they did, I wouldn’t be a prison guard.”
The third gate loomed in front of them, tall and solid, giving the impression of immense weight. The window to the side showed that same odd shimmering, but this time it extended across the entire gate from wall to wall. She pointed it out to Corporal Maryn and asked him what it was.
“That? Lady Night, that is the single most intriguing mystery of this whole planet. Not even the living colors can beat this one. That faint shimmering is the strongest shield anyone has ever seen. You could throw a star at it and it would be fine.”
“Let me guess, you don’t know how or why it works and if you did, you wouldn’t be a prison guard.”
Corporal Maryn grinned and bobbed his head, his crest twitching. “Now you’re getting it.”
He stood square to the gate and called out, “Corporal Maryn, escorting Lady Night through to visit Prisoner, designated Clint Stone.”
“We heard you were coming,” came the reply. “Give us a second, we’ll let you in.”
The gate rose to the ceiling, faint shimmering with it. But this one didn’t squeal or creak. Instead, it traveled up with barely a whisper, sliding into place with a faint click. Jaein glanced at it, then at the Corporal. He shrugged. She didn’t ask, because she already knew the answer.
They walked through the opening the gate left and entered a room vastly different from the corridor before it. It was large, easily a hundred feet across. The whole outer wall was constructed of the strange stonemetal that was so common in the City, and it extended all the way up to the ceiling, some ten feet above Jaein’s head. The ceiling too, was coated in the stonemetal. Even the floor was, encasing the entire room in near unbreakable material. Jaein supposed it was a good place for a jail. There were ten guards of varying races marching around the room, keeping an eye on the prisoners and the surroundings.
Placed around the room at regular intervals were ten by ten cages, with bars extending to the ceiling. In these cells were those the Rebellion saw fit to imprison. These were not the average civilian criminals, these were the military criminals, imprisoned for rape, murder, desertion, and other heinous crimes. The vast majority of them were awaiting trial and summary execution. Luckily, there were only about thirty of them, out of the hundreds of thousands members of the Rebellion. Most of them were crowded into two of the cells, leaving the others empty. Only one of the cells had a single occupant.
Clint Stone lay on the floor of his cell, eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly. He was sleeping. He was no longer in his chains, Jaein could see, but he still had the bandage around his hand. His beard had been shaved off, and his hair cut down to a short buzz. She stepped towards him, but was intercepted by a tall Skilon, whose hands looked like they rarely ever left the large rifle he was cradling.
Jaein slipped into Hardface as soon as he blocked her path. This was one who would not be persuaded with Warmface, and Hardface was needed. “I am here to discuss matters of importance with Clint Stone.”
“Authorization?” the Skilon asked, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. The scales around his head and arms were battered and worn, indicating an intimate knowledge of combat.
Jaein reached into her pocket and removed her Diplomat crest. Holding it at head level, she said, “I am Lady Night, fully recognized member of the Rebellion’s Diplomatic Corps. I was sent here by General Skuar himself for important, and sensitive, matters.”
He squinted at the crest, seemed to recognize it for what it was, and stepped forward, letting his rifle hang off his shoulder by its strap.
“Any weapons or other contraband you wish to declare before search?”
“Search? The Corporal already scanned me for weapons and such.”
The Skilon looked hard at the Corporal. He nodded. The Skilon turned his attention back to Jaein and said, “There will be no contact with the prisoner. You will remain five feet away at all times. You will not hand anything to the prisoner. Corporal Maryn will accompany you to ensure there is no illegal behavior. Everything you say will be heard by him. Do not break these rules.”
The Skilon rearmed himself and resumed his patrol of the room without another word. Jaein looked at Corporal Maryn. “Is he always like that?”
“Captain Koeph? You caught him on a good day.”
Hmh. Jaein walked over to Clint’s cage, the Corporal at her heels. Clint still lay in his back, head resting on a folded blanket and hands resting on his stomach, metal and flesh fingers interlaced. He looked peaceful and Jaein was almost reluctant to wake him. He saw so little peace these days. But she needed to speak with him.
“Clint,” she said. He didn’t react. “Clint,” she repeated, louder. His nose twitched, but nothing more. “Clint!” she half shouted.
His eyes flicked open, darting about the room before settling on her face. He smiled and sat up against the bars. “Hello, beautiful. Here for a visit?”
His piercing green eyes rested on her black ones. She was always surprised at how intense those eyes could be and how vibrant. They seemed to glow with life and energy, more so than any other being’s she had ever seen. She lost herself in them for a moment, drawn down into the emerald depths, before forcing herself back to reality. She had things to do, and unfortunately, Clint was not one of them.
“Yes and no,” she said. “I’ve been appointed as your defender in the trial and I need to begin preparing a defense. What can you tell me about what happened?”
“Whoa, whoa,” Clint said, patting the air with his hands. “Let’s take some time to get caught up. We have been apart for a few months, after all. How have you been?”
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” she said, glancing over at Corporal Maryn, who was standing with his hand clasped behind his back a few feet away. Clint followed her gaze and gave a dismissive shrug.
“He won’t mind. Will you, soldier?” Clint said, focusing his laser gaze on the Bonasi. Clint hadn’t actually threatened anything, but the Bonasi’s crest and nose started twitching so fast, Jaein was afraid that they would just vibrate of his head.
“No, si-,” the Bonasi said, before realizing that Clint was in fact a prisoner, rather than a commanding officer. “No, I won’t.”
Clint turned back to Jaein, that half-smile on his face. “See,” he said, leaning forward, “he doesn’t mind. Now, anything interesting happen in the last three months?”
Jaein thought for a moment. “Not really,” she said, “just routine Diplomat duties.”
Clint pushed his head back and pursed his lips. “Surely there was something more than that. Read any good books, see a good movie?”
“Movie?” Jaein asked.
“Right,” Clint said closing his eyes, “forgot you guys don’t have those. What I meant was, anything happen that didn’t have to do with your job? Anything of interest in the Rebellion at all?”
Corporal Maryn stepped forward at that. “Don’t answer that, he…” He trailed off as both Clint and Jaein fixed him with hard stares. “Uhh, I mean, that, uhh, you shouldn’t tell a prisoner, that is, uhh…”
Clint chuckled at the flustered Corporal. He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “There is no need to worry. She won’t tell me anything important.”
“Good, that’s good,” Corporal Maryn said, nodding his head and backing away, crest swishing back and forth.
“Well, since the Rebellion is off limits, what about in the City? Any good shops open up?” Clint asked Jaein.
“No, not that I know of,” she replied. A thought came to mind. “But there was one thing interesting. You remember that game you showed the children, baseball?”
Clint nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Well, it’s become a city wide thing now. There are dozens of teams and there is even a schedule for when the teams play each other. They’ve even implemented a ranking system for the teams, so the better teams don’t play the terrible teams.”
“Really?” Clint smiled proudly. He looked very happy at the thought.
“Yes, it’s true. My son plays on one of the teams.” Clint and Jaein looked over at the Corporal again, but this time he did not back down. “He’s the pitcher and the best hitter on the team. His team is the best in their rank,” he said with fatherly pride.
Clint smiled at him. “That’s wonderful. Perhaps someday we-”
He cut off, glancing behind Jaein. She turned around to see more guards walk through the gate. She turned back to Clint. He seemed on edge. “What? They’re just guards.”
“No, they’re not.” His voice was hushed and tense. His eyes had that hard glint she had seen before, aboard the High Realm, when he fought Grach. “It’s not time for the guard to change. Shift isn’t over yet.”
Corporal Maryn looked now as well. Jaein saw his eyes narrow as he focused on the group. “I’ve never seen them before,” he muttered.
“I doubt they are up to anything good,” said Clint. Jaein had to agree with him. The group of guards filtered into the room, splitting in half with each half moving to either side of the room. Two of them walked into the middle of the room, towards Captain Koeph. The Captain was facing the other way, involved in a discussion with another guard, but he turned when the two drew close.
Even from here, Jaein could hear his voice boom out. “What are you doing here? Next shift isn’t for another hour.”
Without saying a word, the two imposters raised their guns and fired point blank into the Captain’s chest. Unfortunately for the leftmost imposter, the Captain was very quick on the draw and he reacted instantaneously, diving to the side and lifting his rifle, discharging it into the imposter’s body. Unfortunately for the Captain, he was not quick enough to avoid both plasma bursts and he collapsed, his chest burning.
At that, the rest of the imposter guards began firing at the real guards, who, unprepared for the assault, died quick. To their credit, they did manage to take down four imposters, leaving six. Jaein and the Corporal were untouched. They hadn’t even been fired on.
Jaein supposed it was because the moment the firing had started, Clint had ripped through the bars of his cell and dragged the both of them into the cell with him, then proceeding to throw his blanket on top of the Corporal, hiding his uniform. Jaein was laying flat on the floor, with Clint standing over her, Corporal Maryn’s gun clutched in his hands.
Corporal Maryn was understandably confused. Not only had he just seen a prisoner rip through solid steel bars, said prisoner had just disarmed him with ease, and was now trying to save his life. “What…How…”
Clint hushed him with a low hiss. “Be quiet. You sit there, shut up, try not to draw attention to yourself and we might just get out of this with our heads.”
Mollified, the Corporal huddled down under the blanket. Jaein lay still on the ground, trusting in Clint. If anyone could get them out of this, it would be him.
For their part, the imposters didn’t notice the three other beings in the room. Their attention was focused on the guards and the central prison cells. After the last guard fell, the imposters gathered around one of the full cells, wherein a dozen criminals shouted for their release. Ordering the criminals to move away from the bars, a charge was set by the apparent leader of the imposters, a thin Hryth. A flash of light and the door swung open, releasing the prisoners.
With whoops of delight, they rushed out the cell, practically skipping with delight. They were so focused on their freedom that they didn’t notice the imposter guards focusing their weapons on them until it was too late. At the end of the massacre, only two prisoners were still standing. They seemed to know the guards and they clasped hands after the death.
“This is a prison break,” Corporal Maryn hissed up at Clint. “We have to do something.”
Clint looked down at the small Bonasi. “Are you an idiot? They outnumber us three to one and they clearly aren’t afraid to kill.”
The Bonasi waved his hands in a futile motion. “But, you’re Clint Stone. Can’t you do something?”
Clint snorted softly. “If I was by myself, or if I had some cover, maybe, but there is nothing here to help me. I’m in a cage, and I have you two to worry about.”
“But you’ve done things like this before,” the Corporal countered. Jaein ignored the conversation and kept her gaze locked on the group of guards and prisoners. One of the guards glanced in her direction and she could see something had drawn his interest.
“Shut up,” she hissed urgently at Clint and the Corporal. “They are watching.”
Both of them shut up and snapped their heads toward the group of guards. The one who had first glanced over was walking towards them, gun held in a relaxed position. The Corporal huddled down under his blanket, trying to make himself as hidden as possible. Jaein chose to believe he was just trying to hide his uniform instead of his whole body. For her part, she rolled over, putting her back to the approaching guard. Hopefully, he would just assume she was just another prisoner, and not the only female in the entire place.
Clint stepped over her and stood closer to the cell wall. Since she couldn’t see what was going on, Jaein strained her ears to figure out what was going on.
“What are you looking at?” asked an unfamiliar voice. It was the guard. From the sound of it, he was an Ioern, with a bad cold.
“Nothing,” replied Clint’s deep, rumbling voice. “I was just interested in what was happening. It’s not every day you see guards fighting guards down here. Prisoners, sure, but not guards.”
“Mhm. What about those two?” Jaein stiffened at that, then forced herself to relax. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
“I guess they don’t find it as interesting as I do.”
“Hey, you look kind of familiar,” said the Ioern, suspicion rising in his voice.
“Really? I’m told I have one of those faces. Everyone thinks they know me. Turns out they don’t.”
“No, you really look familiar. Wait a minute! Your hand-You’re Clint Stone!”
Jaein heard Clint sigh. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Come to what? It’s not like I’m going to try and kill you! I’m not dying today.”
“…What?”
“Uh, you’re Clint Stone. Why the hell would I try and kill you? I’m sure you could kill me in three different ways before I blink. I’d ask what you’re in here for, but it doesn’t really matter.”
There was a tense pause. “So what are you going to do now?” asked Clint.
“I’m going to walk away, leave you to your business, and join up with my friends and leave. You just stay put and there will be no problem.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Jaein heard footsteps fade into the distance. Rolling over, she looked at Clint and saw he was standing with a perplexed look on his face. He saw her looking and raised an eyebrow. “That’s never happened before.”
She sat up. “Well, I guess your reputation as a violent, unstoppable killing machine comes in handy at times.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Is he gone?” came the Corporal’s voice, muffled by the blanket.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he said, sitting up. Scanning the surrounding area, he pulled out his radio.
“Front Gate, this is Corporal Maryn speaking. Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear, Corporal,” the radio squawked.
“There are eight hostiles in the prison. They have killed the guards and a dozen prisoners. They are dressed in guard uniforms, escorting two freed prisoners. Could you kindly eliminate them as they leave the room?”
There was a pause. “Are you saying that we are under attack?”
“No, I’m telling you there are some vermin to be disposed of.”
“Alright. We’ll get it done.”
“Thank you.”
With that, the Corporal let his hand fall and smiled up at them. “Well, that takes care of them.”
As if on cue, the false guards opened the gate and were met with a storm of plasma that rendered them nearly immaterial.
The Corporal chuckled. “I doubt that there is anything bigger than a tooth left.”