{"data":{"id":14051,"title":"Orbital Supermax: Episode Five","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/comm-link\/serialized-fiction\/14051-Orbital-Supermax-Episode-Five","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-links\/14051","api_public_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/comm-links\/14051","channel":"Undefined","category":"Undefined","series":"Orbital Supermax","images":[{"id":1947,"name":"OSM_FI2v4a.jpg","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/media\/hqo978t1u2njxr\/source\/OSM_FI2v4a.jpg","alt":"","size":1895039,"mime_type":"image\/jpeg","last_modified":"2014-07-03T22:49:29+00:00","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/1947","similar_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/1947\/similar"}],"images_count":1,"translations":{"en_EN":"I was in a bad spot.\n\nI was an officer in a prison that had been half-destroyed by pirates, in which most of the prisoners had escaped and now wandered the hallways unfettered. Those few criminals whose lives we\u2019d saved still didn\u2019t trust me. Wes Morgan, the mercenary that we\u2019d rescued from a prison cell, probably thought I was a fool, and Wyrick\u2026 well, Cayla Wyrick was my therapist.\n\n\u201cThe cargo hold is this way,\u201d I offered when I realized that we were about to miss a turn.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re not going to the cargo hold,\u201d said Morgan without slowing.\n\nI asked him if not there then where, but he ignored me, and I let it drop. No one else seemed to care. The prisoners followed him like young pups following the Alpha Wolf. Wyrick wouldn\u2019t talk to me. She\u2019d disagreed with my decision to turn Martin Browning over to the Nova Dogs, and though I hadn\u2019t actually managed to find out who he was in the server room, the fact that I\u2019d looked at all made me a coward in her eyes.\n\nAs we passed deeper into the bowels of the station, we began to hear things through the walls. Quiet coughs coming through the ventilation ducts, but then something else. A low giggling that never seemed to stop, never took a breath. The shifting of papery fabric. The scent of sweat and the unwashed.\n\nFat Max, the largest man amongst us, if not in muscle then in pure bulk, stopped dead, blocking the corridor. \u201cI ain\u2019t going in there.\u201d\n\nThe door ahead of us was riveted steel and painted with a white stripe that bore another, red stripe on its back. I recognized it at once. It was the Forensic Psychiatry wing. A buddy of mine once described it as being like Maximum Security if the prisoners were tweaking all the time. A man in Maximum Security might stab you for a toothpick, but a man in Forensic Psychiatry would stab you if the voices in his head told him you even owned a toothpick. These were men who would not survive on a prison world like Quarterdeck, either because they could not take care of themselves, or because other prisoners would kill them out of fear for their own safety.\n\nOnly a few of them had actually gone insane while they were on the station. Most were simply monsters the other systems didn\u2019t know what to do with. Some were sane, but had performed acts so horrendous a jury of twelve reasonable men and women could not comprehend how anyone in their right mind could have committed them.\n\nI could understand why Fat Max wanted to avoid the place. But I also understood that I needed to win points with Morgan and Wyrick. I pushed my way to the front of the group and turned around. These men did not look like the hardened group of prisoners we\u2019d found trying to break into the prison Armoury. They\u2019d seen many of their friends killed in Martin Kilkenny\u2019s ambush, and had themselves been threatened with death by a cannibal. They were scared.\n\n\u201cWhat the hell is the matter with you?\u201d I asked. \u201cWhat\u2019s the worst that can happen? Will these guys kill and eat you? Cause that\u2019s what the guys behind us have promised to do, and we know they\u2019re cannibals.\u201d\n\nFat Max glared back at me with beady eyes that were made small by the vast slabs of coffee-colored flesh that were his cheeks. \u201cGo in yourselves then.\u201d\n\n\u201cFine. But you know what?\u201d I turned and pointed dramatically at Wyrick. Blonde with diamond ear studs and a pantsuit, she had kicked off her high heels somewhere on the Flight Deck and now wore nothing but her stocking feet. \u201cThis woman came here three times a week, every week, as part of her job, and she\u2019s going back in now. Are you going to let her go in alone?\u201d\n\nIt turned out that several of them would. But more than half decided to come with us, and I figured it was no great loss to leave those others behind.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t decide if I should feel flattered or insulted by that little speech,\u201d Wyrick said as we slowly advanced into the ward. It was the first she\u2019d spoken to me since I\u2019d used her codes to look up Browning\u2019s info.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m as scared as Fat Max,\u201d I admitted. \u201cIt takes courage to do what you do.\u201d\n\n\u201cFat Max stayed behind,\u201d she pointed out. \u201cYou didn\u2019t.\u201d\n\nI didn\u2019t know how to take the compliment. Did this mean that I was earning my way back into her good graces? I was about to continue our conversation but she\u2019d already walked away.\n\nI don\u2019t know what I\u2019d expected Forensic Psychiatry to look like, but what we found looked very much like a hospital. Medical stations that included defibrillators and firefighting equipment were mounted on the walls and beds were lined up on one side of the corridor. Each bed had restraints, but they were clean and sterile in nature. We came to a common area with a few scattered tables upon which old fashioned cardboard board games were laid out. A circle of sofas were arranged around a shattered vidscreen and a line of bloody footprints led from there to one of the doors. There was a medical dispensary behind a sheet of Plexiglas on one side of the room, but the door swung on its hinges and I could see several patients slumped over with dried foam and vomit on their mouths and the fronts of their shirts.\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the staff?\u201d asked Morgan.\n\nNo one answered.\n\nWe proceeded further into the ward, encountering the occasional patient who was so stoned on prescription medication that they barely acknowledged our presence. Wyrick was no doctor and there wasn\u2019t much she could do for them except try to keep them calm as we passed.\n\nMorgan occasionally checked the map on Wyrick\u2019s notepad. He seemed to know exactly where his friend was being held. We came to a door that required her to enter her codes again, and for the first time since we\u2019d begun our little journey she balked.\n\n\u201cThis is the high security ward. If this is where your friend is incarcerated, he\u2019s better off staying here where he can receive treatment.\u201d\n\n\u201cHerby\u2019s got a condition, but I know how to manage it,\u201d said Morgan defensively.\n\n\u201cHerby?\u201d asked Wyrick with one eyebrow raised. \u201cYou don\u2019t mean Herschel Konicek?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know him.\u201d It wasn\u2019t a question. More of an admission of defeat.\n\n\u201cAs a therapist, I hope he gets treatment. As a woman, I hope he rots in his cell.\u201d\n\nMorgan shook his head. Wyrick hadn\u2019t asked for an explanation, but he gave her one anyways. \u201cHerby was one of the best field mechanics I ever knew. One time, our APC was attacked by Vanduul. They blew the thing to hell. The damage was bad enough, they left us for dead. We found Herby under the wreckage with a three inch piece of steel in his forehead. Crazy thing was, he was still able to walk and talk. Except for this piece of metal in his skull, he looked perfectly normal. So there we were in the middle of hundreds of miles of desert with no vehicle. What were we going to do? Walk to the nearest town? Well, Herby took the APC\u2019s drivetrain, hooked two wheels to it and we drove outta there on the ugliest motorcycle you ever seen.\n\n\u201cWhen we got back, we took Herby to the hospital and it turns out the metal fragment damaged the part of his brain responsible for impulse control. What happened to those women\u2026he knew what he was doing\u2014he just couldn\u2019t stop himself. Cut him up inside, real bad.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t wish what he did to his victims on anyone, but he was a victim too. Our unit was all-male, so as long as he stuck with us, didn\u2019t take any shore leave, he could have a life. Course, when the law caught up to me, it caught up to him too, and that\u2019s how he got here.\u201d\n\nMorgan turned to Wyrick. \u201cThe fact is, we need him to fix Nylund\u2019s mothballed fighters. I understand that you have more incentive than anyone to keep him in his cell. But I\u2019ll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay safe. Herby will know not to cross me.\u201d\n\nWyrick crossed her arms, hugging herself. She looked up at me, then at the other prisoners. If I was in her position I\u2019d want to stay clear of Konicek, but there was no way we were getting those fighters operational without some high caliber help, and she knew it too. Her choice was simple: agree to free Konicek, or let the rest of us be captured by Kilkenny and his crew. I didn\u2019t envy her the decision. \u201cOkay. We release him, but\u2026if what you say is true, and Konicek\u2019s condition is the result of a brain injury, then he\u2019ll never be cured. After all this is over, I want your word that you\u2019ll bring him back here.\u201d\n\n\u201cDone,\u201d said Morgan so quickly that I could tell that Wyrick was trying to figure out where she screwed up. After a moment, she gave up and punched her code into the console.\n\nThe reinforced door began to slide open and then stopped abruptly, the lights on the panel going from green to orange, indicating that an obstruction was present. It took Morgan and two of the prisoners to force it open, and when it finally did, a guard slumped to the ground. His eyes had been pushed into their sockets and two scarlet trails, like scabbed-over tears ran down his cheeks. The rest of the corridor was coated in blood, more than I\u2019d ever seen in one place. We found a few bodies, but also many empty blood pouches, normally used for transfusions. The stench of rot and copper hung heavy in the air.\n\n\u201cHerby!\u201d Morgan called out, but there was no answer. Somewhere far away I thought I heard the beginning of a hysterical laugh that was quickly cut short. We were being sent a message and we all knew it.\n\nto be continued \u2026","de_DE":"Ich war in einer schlechten Verfassung.\n\nIch war Offizier in einem Gef\u00e4ngnis, das von Piraten halb zerst\u00f6rt worden war, in dem die meisten Gefangenen entkommen waren und nun ungehindert durch die G\u00e4nge wanderten. Die wenigen Verbrecher, deren Leben wir gerettet hatten, trauten mir immer noch nicht. Wes Morgan, der S\u00f6ldner, den wir aus einer Gef\u00e4ngniszelle gerettet hatten, dachte wahrscheinlich, ich sei ein Narr, und Wyrick.... nun, Cayla Wyrick war meine Therapeutin.\n\n\"Der Laderaum ist in diese Richtung\", bot ich an, als mir klar wurde, dass wir im Begriff waren, eine Kurve zu verpassen.\n\n\"Wir gehen nicht zum Frachtraum\", sagte Morgan, ohne nachzulassen.\n\nIch fragte ihn, wenn nicht gar dort dann wo, aber er ignorierte mich, und ich lie\u00df es fallen. Niemand sonst schien sich darum zu k\u00fcmmern. Die Gefangenen folgten ihm wie junge Welpen dem Alpha-Wolf. Wyrick wollte nicht mit mir reden. Sie hatte meiner Entscheidung, Martin Browning den Nova Dogs zu \u00fcbergeben, nicht zugestimmt, und obwohl ich es eigentlich nicht geschafft hatte, herauszufinden, wer er im Serverraum war, machte mich die Tatsache, dass ich \u00fcberhaupt angeschaut hatte, zu einem Feigling in ihren Augen.\n\nAls wir tiefer in die D\u00e4rme der Station eindrangen, begannen wir, Dinge durch die W\u00e4nde zu h\u00f6ren. Leiser Husten, der durch die L\u00fcftungskan\u00e4le kommt, aber dann etwas anderes. Ein leises Kichern, das nie aufzuh\u00f6ren schien, nie einen Atemzug nahm. Die Verschiebung von papierartigem Gewebe. Der Duft von Schwei\u00df und Ungewaschenem.\n\nFat Max, der gr\u00f6\u00dfte Mann unter uns, wenn nicht im Muskel, dann in reiner Masse, blieb tot stehen und blockierte den Korridor. \"Ich gehe da nicht rein.\"\n\nDie T\u00fcr vor uns war aus genietetem Stahl und mit einem wei\u00dfen Streifen lackiert, der einen weiteren, roten Streifen auf dem R\u00fccken trug. Ich erkannte es sofort. Es war der Fl\u00fcgel der Forensischen Psychiatrie. Ein Kumpel von mir beschrieb es einmal als Maximalsicherheit, wenn die Gefangenen die ganze Zeit an der Sache feilen w\u00fcrden. Ein Mann in der Maximalsicherheit k\u00f6nnte dich f\u00fcr einen Zahnstocher erstechen, aber ein Mann in der Forensischen Psychiatrie w\u00fcrde dich erstechen, wenn die Stimmen in seinem Kopf ihm sagten, dass du sogar einen Zahnstocher besitzt. Das waren M\u00e4nner, die in einer Gef\u00e4ngniswelt wie Quarterdeck nicht \u00fcberleben w\u00fcrden, entweder weil sie nicht auf sich selbst aufpassen konnten oder weil andere Gefangene sie aus Angst um ihre eigene Sicherheit t\u00f6ten w\u00fcrden.\n\nNur wenige von ihnen waren tats\u00e4chlich verr\u00fcckt geworden, w\u00e4hrend sie auf der Station waren. Die meisten waren einfach nur Monster, mit denen die anderen Systeme nicht wussten, was sie damit anfangen sollten. Einige waren geistig gesund, hatten aber so schreckliche Taten vollbracht, dass eine Jury von zw\u00f6lf vern\u00fcnftigen M\u00e4nnern und Frauen nicht verstehen konnte, wie jemand mit klarem Verstand sie h\u00e4tte begehen k\u00f6nnen.\n\nIch konnte verstehen, warum Fat Max den Ort meiden wollte. Aber ich verstand auch, dass ich mit Morgan und Wyrick Punkte gewinnen musste. Ich dr\u00e4ngte mich an die Spitze der Gruppe und drehte mich um. Diese M\u00e4nner sahen nicht aus wie die verh\u00e4rtete Gruppe von Gefangenen, die wir gefunden hatten, als wir versuchten, in das Gef\u00e4ngnis Zeughaus einzubrechen. Sie hatten gesehen, wie viele ihrer Freunde in Martin Kilkenny's Hinterhalt get\u00f6tet wurden, und waren selbst von einem Kannibalen mit dem Tod bedroht worden. Sie hatten Angst.\n\n\"Was zum Teufel ist los mit dir?\" fragte ich. \"Was ist das Schlimmste, was passieren kann? Werden diese Typen dich t\u00f6ten und fressen? Weil es das ist, was die Jungs hinter uns versprochen haben, und wir wissen, dass sie Kannibalen sind.\"\n\nDer fette Max starrte mich mit knorrigen Augen an, die durch die riesigen Platten aus kaffeefarbenem Fleisch, die seine Wangen waren, klein gemacht wurden. \"Dann geht in euch selbst.\"\n\n\"Gut. Aber wei\u00dft du was?\" Ich drehte mich um und zeigte dramatisch auf Wyrick. Blond mit Diamantohrsteckern und einem Hosenanzug, hatte sie ihre High Heels irgendwo auf dem Flight Deck abgesto\u00dfen und trug nun nichts als ihre Strumpff\u00fc\u00dfe. \"Diese Frau kam dreimal pro Woche hierher, jede Woche, als Teil ihres Jobs, und sie geht jetzt wieder rein. Wirst du sie allein reingehen lassen?\"\n\nEs stellte sich heraus, dass mehrere von ihnen es tun w\u00fcrden. Aber mehr als die H\u00e4lfte entschied sich, mit uns zu kommen, und ich dachte, es w\u00e4re kein gro\u00dfer Verlust, die anderen zur\u00fcckzulassen.\n\n\"Ich kann mich nicht entscheiden, ob ich mich durch diese kleine Rede geschmeichelt oder beleidigt f\u00fchlen soll\", sagte Wyrick, als wir langsam auf die Station kamen. Es war das erste Mal, dass sie mit mir gesprochen hatte, da ich ihre Codes benutzt hatte, um Brownings Informationen nachzuschlagen.\n\n\"Ich habe genauso viel Angst wie Fat Max\", gab ich zu. \"Es braucht Mut, das zu tun, was man tut.\"\n\n\"Fat Max blieb zur\u00fcck\", betonte sie. \"Das hast du nicht.\"\n\nIch wusste nicht, wie ich das Kompliment machen sollte. Bedeutete das, dass ich mir den Weg zur\u00fcck zu ihren guten Umgangsformen verdient habe? Ich wollte gerade unser Gespr\u00e4ch fortsetzen, aber sie war bereits weggegangen.\n\nIch wei\u00df nicht, wie ich die Forensische Psychiatrie erwartet hatte, aber was wir gefunden haben, sah sehr nach einem Krankenhaus aus. Medizinische Stationen mit Defibrillatoren und Feuerl\u00f6schger\u00e4ten wurden an den W\u00e4nden montiert und Betten auf einer Seite des Flurs aufgestellt. Jedes Bett hatte Fesseln, aber sie waren sauber und steril. Wir kamen in einen Gemeinschaftsraum mit ein paar verstreuten Tischen, auf denen altmodische Brettspiele aus Karton ausgelegt wurden. Ein Kreis von Sofas war um einen zerbrochenen Videobildschirm angeordnet und eine Reihe von blutigen Fu\u00dfspuren f\u00fchrte von dort zu einer der T\u00fcren. Es gab eine medizinische Apotheke hinter einem Blatt aus Plexiglas auf einer Seite des Raumes, aber die T\u00fcr schwang an ihren Scharnieren, und ich konnte sehen, wie mehrere Patienten mit getrocknetem Schaum und Erbrochenem auf ihren M\u00fcndern und den Vorderseiten ihrer Hemden zusammengebrochen waren.\n\n\"Wo ist das Personal?\" fragte Morgan.\n\nNiemand antwortete.\n\nWir gingen weiter in die Station und trafen auf den gelegentlichen Patienten, der so stark von verschreibungspflichtigen Medikamenten besoffen war, dass sie unsere Anwesenheit kaum wahrnahmen. Wyrick war kein Arzt und es gab nicht viel, was sie f\u00fcr sie tun konnte, au\u00dfer zu versuchen, sie ruhig zu halten, als wir vorbeikamen.\n\nMorgan \u00fcberpr\u00fcfte gelegentlich die Karte auf Wyricks Notizblock. Er schien genau zu wissen, wo sein Freund festgehalten wurde. Wir kamen an eine T\u00fcr, die von ihr verlangte, ihre Codes erneut einzugeben, und zum ersten Mal seit wir unsere kleine Reise begonnen hatten, str\u00e4ubte sie sich.\n\n\"Das ist die Hochsicherheitsstation. Wenn dein Freund hier eingesperrt ist, ist es besser, wenn er hier bleibt, wo er sich behandeln lassen kann.\"\n\n\"Herby hat einen Zustand, aber ich wei\u00df, wie man damit umgeht\", sagte Morgan defensiv.\n\n\"Herby?\" fragte Wyrick mit einer angehobenen Augenbraue. \"Du meinst nicht Herschel Konicek?\"\n\n\"Du kennst ihn.\" Es war keine Frage. Eher ein Eingest\u00e4ndnis der Niederlage.\n\n\"Als Therapeut hoffe ich, dass er sich behandeln l\u00e4sst. Als Frau hoffe ich, dass er in seiner Zelle verrottet.\"\n\nMorgan sch\u00fcttelte den Kopf. Wyrick hatte nicht nach einer Erkl\u00e4rung gefragt, aber er gab ihr trotzdem eine. \"Herby war eine der besten Feldmechanikerinnen, die ich je kannte. Einmal wurde unser APC von Vanduul angegriffen. Sie haben das Ding zur H\u00f6lle geschickt. Der Schaden war schlimm genug, sie haben uns zum Sterben zur\u00fcckgelassen. Wir fanden Herby unter den Tr\u00fcmmern mit einem drei Zoll gro\u00dfen St\u00fcck Stahl auf der Stirn. Verr\u00fcckt war, dass er immer noch laufen und reden konnte. Bis auf dieses St\u00fcck Metall in seinem Sch\u00e4del sah er v\u00f6llig normal aus. Da waren wir also mitten in Hunderten von Meilen W\u00fcste ohne Fahrzeug. Was wollten wir tun? Zu Fu\u00df in die n\u00e4chstgelegene Stadt? Nun, Herby nahm den Antriebsstrang des APCs, hakte zwei R\u00e4der daran und wir fuhren mit dem h\u00e4sslichsten Motorrad, das du je gesehen hast, dorthin.\n\n\"Als wir zur\u00fcckkamen, brachten wir Herby ins Krankenhaus und es stellte sich heraus, dass das Metallfragment den Teil seines Gehirns besch\u00e4digte, der f\u00fcr die Impulskontrolle verantwortlich war. Was ist mit diesen Frauen passiert.... er wusste, was er tat - er konnte sich einfach nicht zur\u00fcckhalten. Schneidet ihn innerlich auf, wirklich schlimm.\n\n\"Ich w\u00fcrde mir nicht w\u00fcnschen, was er seinen Opfern angetan hat, aber er war auch ein Opfer. Unsere Einheit war rein m\u00e4nnlich, solange er bei uns blieb, keinen Landurlaub nahm, konnte er ein Leben haben. Nat\u00fcrlich, als das Gesetz mich einholte, holte es auch ihn ein, und so kam er hierher.\"\n\nMorgan wandte sich an Wyrick. \"Tatsache ist, wir brauchen ihn, um Nylunds eingemottete J\u00e4ger zu reparieren. Ich verstehe, dass du mehr Anreize als jeder andere hast, ihn in seiner Zelle zu behalten. Aber ich tue alles, was n\u00f6tig ist, um sicherzustellen, dass du sicher bist. Herby wird wissen, dass er mich nicht ver\u00e4rgern darf.\"\n\nWyrick verschr\u00e4nkte ihre Arme und umarmte sich selbst. Sie sah zu mir auf, dann zu den anderen Gefangenen. Wenn ich in ihrer Position w\u00e4re, w\u00fcrde ich Konicek meiden wollen, aber es gab keine M\u00f6glichkeit, diese K\u00e4mpfer ohne hochkar\u00e4tige Hilfe einsatzbereit zu machen, und sie wusste es auch. Ihre Wahl war einfach: stimme der Befreiung von Konicek zu, oder lass den Rest von uns von Kilkenny und seiner Crew gefangen genommen werden. Ich beneidete sie nicht um die Entscheidung. \"Okay. Wir lassen ihn frei, aber.... wenn das, was du sagst, wahr ist, und Konickeks Zustand das Ergebnis einer Hirnverletzung ist, dann wird er nie geheilt werden. Nachdem das alles vorbei ist, m\u00f6chte ich dein Wort, dass du ihn hierher zur\u00fcckbringst.\"\n\n\"Erledigt\", sagte Morgan so schnell, dass ich erkennen konnte, dass Wyrick versuchte herauszufinden, wo sie es vermasselt hat. Nach einem Moment gab sie auf und stie\u00df ihren Code in die Konsole.\n\nDie verst\u00e4rkte T\u00fcr begann zu \u00f6ffnen und stoppte dann abrupt, die Lichter auf dem Panel gingen von gr\u00fcn nach orange \u00fcber und zeigten an, dass ein Hindernis vorhanden war. Es brauchte Morgan und zwei der Gefangenen, um ihn zu \u00f6ffnen, und als es endlich soweit war, fiel eine Wache zu Boden. Seine Augen waren in ihre H\u00f6hlen gesto\u00dfen worden, und zwei scharlachrote Pfade, als ob ihm verschmierte Tr\u00e4nen \u00fcber die Wangen liefen. Der Rest des Korridors war mit Blut \u00fcberzogen, mehr als ich je an einem Ort gesehen hatte. Wir fanden ein paar Leichen, aber auch viele leere Blutbeutel, die normalerweise f\u00fcr Transfusionen verwendet werden. Der Gestank von F\u00e4ulnis und Kupfer lag schwer in der Luft.\n\n\" Herby!\" Morgan rief, aber es gab keine Antwort. Irgendwo in der Ferne dachte ich, ich h\u00f6rte den Beginn eines hysterischen Lachens, das schnell unterbrochen wurde. Uns wurde eine Nachricht geschickt, und wir alle wussten es.\n\nwird fortgesetzt.....","zh_CN":"I was in a bad spot.\n\nI was an officer in a prison that had been half-destroyed by pirates, in which most of the prisoners had escaped and now wandered the hallways unfettered. Those few criminals whose lives we\u2019d saved still didn\u2019t trust me. Wes Morgan, the mercenary that we\u2019d rescued from a prison cell, probably thought I was a fool, and Wyrick\u2026 well, Cayla Wyrick was my therapist.\n\n\u201cThe cargo hold is this way,\u201d I offered when I realized that we were about to miss a turn.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re not going to the cargo hold,\u201d said Morgan without slowing.\n\nI asked him if not there then where, but he ignored me, and I let it drop. No one else seemed to care. The prisoners followed him like young pups following the Alpha Wolf. Wyrick wouldn\u2019t talk to me. She\u2019d disagreed with my decision to turn Martin Browning over to the Nova Dogs, and though I hadn\u2019t actually managed to find out who he was in the server room, the fact that I\u2019d looked at all made me a coward in her eyes.\n\nAs we passed deeper into the bowels of the station, we began to hear things through the walls. Quiet coughs coming through the ventilation ducts, but then something else. A low giggling that never seemed to stop, never took a breath. The shifting of papery fabric. The scent of sweat and the unwashed.\n\nFat Max, the largest man amongst us, if not in muscle then in pure bulk, stopped dead, blocking the corridor. \u201cI ain\u2019t going in there.\u201d\n\nThe door ahead of us was riveted steel and painted with a white stripe that bore another, red stripe on its back. I recognized it at once. It was the Forensic Psychiatry wing. A buddy of mine once described it as being like Maximum Security if the prisoners were tweaking all the time. A man in Maximum Security might stab you for a toothpick, but a man in Forensic Psychiatry would stab you if the voices in his head told him you even owned a toothpick. These were men who would not survive on a prison world like Quarterdeck, either because they could not take care of themselves, or because other prisoners would kill them out of fear for their own safety.\n\nOnly a few of them had actually gone insane while they were on the station. Most were simply monsters the other systems didn\u2019t know what to do with. Some were sane, but had performed acts so horrendous a jury of twelve reasonable men and women could not comprehend how anyone in their right mind could have committed them.\n\nI could understand why Fat Max wanted to avoid the place. But I also understood that I needed to win points with Morgan and Wyrick. I pushed my way to the front of the group and turned around. These men did not look like the hardened group of prisoners we\u2019d found trying to break into the prison Armoury. They\u2019d seen many of their friends killed in Martin Kilkenny\u2019s ambush, and had themselves been threatened with death by a cannibal. They were scared.\n\n\u201cWhat the hell is the matter with you?\u201d I asked. \u201cWhat\u2019s the worst that can happen? Will these guys kill and eat you? Cause that\u2019s what the guys behind us have promised to do, and we know they\u2019re cannibals.\u201d\n\nFat Max glared back at me with beady eyes that were made small by the vast slabs of coffee-colored flesh that were his cheeks. \u201cGo in yourselves then.\u201d\n\n\u201cFine. But you know what?\u201d I turned and pointed dramatically at Wyrick. Blonde with diamond ear studs and a pantsuit, she had kicked off her high heels somewhere on the Flight Deck and now wore nothing but her stocking feet. \u201cThis woman came here three times a week, every week, as part of her job, and she\u2019s going back in now. Are you going to let her go in alone?\u201d\n\nIt turned out that several of them would. But more than half decided to come with us, and I figured it was no great loss to leave those others behind.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t decide if I should feel flattered or insulted by that little speech,\u201d Wyrick said as we slowly advanced into the ward. It was the first she\u2019d spoken to me since I\u2019d used her codes to look up Browning\u2019s info.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m as scared as Fat Max,\u201d I admitted. \u201cIt takes courage to do what you do.\u201d\n\n\u201cFat Max stayed behind,\u201d she pointed out. \u201cYou didn\u2019t.\u201d\n\nI didn\u2019t know how to take the compliment. Did this mean that I was earning my way back into her good graces? I was about to continue our conversation but she\u2019d already walked away.\n\nI don\u2019t know what I\u2019d expected Forensic Psychiatry to look like, but what we found looked very much like a hospital. Medical stations that included defibrillators and firefighting equipment were mounted on the walls and beds were lined up on one side of the corridor. Each bed had restraints, but they were clean and sterile in nature. We came to a common area with a few scattered tables upon which old fashioned cardboard board games were laid out. A circle of sofas were arranged around a shattered vidscreen and a line of bloody footprints led from there to one of the doors. There was a medical dispensary behind a sheet of Plexiglas on one side of the room, but the door swung on its hinges and I could see several patients slumped over with dried foam and vomit on their mouths and the fronts of their shirts.\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the staff?\u201d asked Morgan.\n\nNo one answered.\n\nWe proceeded further into the ward, encountering the occasional patient who was so stoned on prescription medication that they barely acknowledged our presence. Wyrick was no doctor and there wasn\u2019t much she could do for them except try to keep them calm as we passed.\n\nMorgan occasionally checked the map on Wyrick\u2019s notepad. He seemed to know exactly where his friend was being held. We came to a door that required her to enter her codes again, and for the first time since we\u2019d begun our little journey she balked.\n\n\u201cThis is the high security ward. If this is where your friend is incarcerated, he\u2019s better off staying here where he can receive treatment.\u201d\n\n\u201cHerby\u2019s got a condition, but I know how to manage it,\u201d said Morgan defensively.\n\n\u201cHerby?\u201d asked Wyrick with one eyebrow raised. \u201cYou don\u2019t mean Herschel Konicek?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know him.\u201d It wasn\u2019t a question. More of an admission of defeat.\n\n\u201cAs a therapist, I hope he gets treatment. As a woman, I hope he rots in his cell.\u201d\n\nMorgan shook his head. Wyrick hadn\u2019t asked for an explanation, but he gave her one anyways. \u201cHerby was one of the best field mechanics I ever knew. One time, our APC was attacked by Vanduul. They blew the thing to hell. The damage was bad enough, they left us for dead. We found Herby under the wreckage with a three inch piece of steel in his forehead. Crazy thing was, he was still able to walk and talk. Except for this piece of metal in his skull, he looked perfectly normal. So there we were in the middle of hundreds of miles of desert with no vehicle. What were we going to do? Walk to the nearest town? Well, Herby took the APC\u2019s drivetrain, hooked two wheels to it and we drove outta there on the ugliest motorcycle you ever seen.\n\n\u201cWhen we got back, we took Herby to the hospital and it turns out the metal fragment damaged the part of his brain responsible for impulse control. What happened to those women\u2026he knew what he was doing\u2014he just couldn\u2019t stop himself. Cut him up inside, real bad.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t wish what he did to his victims on anyone, but he was a victim too. Our unit was all-male, so as long as he stuck with us, didn\u2019t take any shore leave, he could have a life. Course, when the law caught up to me, it caught up to him too, and that\u2019s how he got here.\u201d\n\nMorgan turned to Wyrick. \u201cThe fact is, we need him to fix Nylund\u2019s mothballed fighters. I understand that you have more incentive than anyone to keep him in his cell. But I\u2019ll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay safe. Herby will know not to cross me.\u201d\n\nWyrick crossed her arms, hugging herself. She looked up at me, then at the other prisoners. If I was in her position I\u2019d want to stay clear of Konicek, but there was no way we were getting those fighters operational without some high caliber help, and she knew it too. Her choice was simple: agree to free Konicek, or let the rest of us be captured by Kilkenny and his crew. I didn\u2019t envy her the decision. \u201cOkay. We release him, but\u2026if what you say is true, and Konicek\u2019s condition is the result of a brain injury, then he\u2019ll never be cured. After all this is over, I want your word that you\u2019ll bring him back here.\u201d\n\n\u201cDone,\u201d said Morgan so quickly that I could tell that Wyrick was trying to figure out where she screwed up. After a moment, she gave up and punched her code into the console.\n\nThe reinforced door began to slide open and then stopped abruptly, the lights on the panel going from green to orange, indicating that an obstruction was present. It took Morgan and two of the prisoners to force it open, and when it finally did, a guard slumped to the ground. His eyes had been pushed into their sockets and two scarlet trails, like scabbed-over tears ran down his cheeks. The rest of the corridor was coated in blood, more than I\u2019d ever seen in one place. We found a few bodies, but also many empty blood pouches, normally used for transfusions. The stench of rot and copper hung heavy in the air.\n\n\u201cHerby!\u201d Morgan called out, but there was no answer. Somewhere far away I thought I heard the beginning of a hysterical laugh that was quickly cut short. We were being sent a message and we all knew it.\n\nto be continued \u2026"},"links_count":0,"comment_count":48,"created_at":"2014-08-01T00:00:00+00:00","created_at_human":"11 years ago"},"meta":{"processed_at":"2026-05-10 17:39:15","valid_relations":["images","links"],"prev_id":14050,"next_id":14052}}