After the shift, Jenna took her to the library. But when they got to an intersection that split off, with the library being in one direction and the gym in the other, she saw another female Nubran facing down a Charon and a Terran who was holding a shoe.
“Hey, thanks! I have been looking for that. Can I have my shoe back, please?” You’d have thought she was being sincere if you hadn’t noticed her body shift to a ready stance.
“I dunno, Cinderella, can you?” the Terran said like a first grader. “First, we should see if it fits!” He took a wild swing with the shoe, which the Nubran girl ducked.
“Hey! My feet are down here!” she retorted, and threw a kick with her shoeless foot. It didn’t connect, but it did force him back. His Charon companion stood there with his arms crossed, waiting to see how things played out.
Aballa tried to take all this in, wondering what she could do. She didn’t know how to fight, but was getting the feeling she should start taking lessons.
Jenna frowned. She said, “Two against one does not seem fair,” and went to join the Nubran girl’s side. Now the Charon lowered his arms and came forward to join his companion.
Aballa was going to have to back Jenna’s play or things would get really awkward in their cell later. But what if she only got in the way?
She looked around, hoping to see a guard, but unsure if they would even interfere. Then she saw a trio of Draxon drones down the hall, just as all three stepped aside as one to let a female prisoner half their height pass.
She had a crazy idea.
“So then I said in my most commanding voice, ‘The matrons are under attack! Protect them!‘”
After the fight, the Nubran had nodded her thanks and gone into the gym to work out. They’d joined her, but only in a safety-in-numbers kind of way. Jenna had seemed to think this wasn’t the right time for that sort of thing, and the Nubran had been far more interested in her workout machine than chatting with them.
That all changed when they saw her again in the mess hall the next afternoon. She had a bruise on her face, but was otherwise in good spirits.
The first thing Aballa learned about the Nubran girl, Ema, was that she had no filter. Right after asking her name, she’d asked them how long they were in for and what their favourite vid shows were. Two questions later, Ema acted like they were her best friends. Then she’d asked about the fight yesterday, and Aballa’s part in it.
“And that is all it took?” Ema said, mouth agape.
“I must admit, I thought you were bailing on us,” said Jenna.
Aballa felt a bit embarrassed. “Well, I do not really know how to fight. But Draxon drones? It is part of who they are. Those guys do not even work out to get that big.”
Once the Draxon had gotten involved, the altercation hadn’t lasted long. Ema had gotten hit in the face with her own shoe, which had a slab of lead hidden inside it. Jenna had managed to disarm him and use it against them. Then the drones had shown up, and the Fangs decided it was better to be anywhere else. Ema got her shoe back, but Jenna kept the lead slab for herself.
“Yes, but what made you so sure they would help?” asked Jenna. “We are not matrons.”
“It gets a bit fuzzy with Draxon psychology,” said Aballa. “There are no female drones, so they tend to defer to any female, regardless of species.”
“She is not wrong,” said Ema. “With the Segments here only semi-segregated, the Draxon sort of drifted towards protecting the female population. Last time I heard about a rape, the perpetrator had an ‘accident’ down in the mines. They never worked in the mines, if you understand me. Still, fights are a different thing. I did not think they would interfere.”
“I spoke with authority, hoping they would see me in a matron-like way,” said Aballa. “What matters is it worked.”
“Thank goodness it did. I did not want to end up being someone’s second fang,” said Ema. “Especially a dumbass Terran like that. No offence,” she added quickly.
“None taken,” said Jenna, and surprised Ema by saying it in Nubran instead of Galcom. Before she could ask, Jenna continued in Galcom, “My Nubran is basic, but I figured I should practice more. So what is the significance of a second fang? Most of the Fangs only seem to have one.”
“A second fang means they either killed someone, or hurt them so bad they were sent to the emergency ward in Segment 21,” said Ema. “You do not see a lot of them because dead prisoners are bad for business. They tack whatever is left of their sentence onto yours, so only lifers tend to do it.”
“You seem to know a lot about the ins and outs here,” said Jenna. “Anything vital we need to know?”
Ema jerked her chin towards the Fang’s corner of the mess hall, where an altercation had broken out between a Fang and a six-limbed Senob with a different kind of tattoo on their face. They stared at each other as if war could break out any minute.
Aballa couldn’t tell what the tattoos on his face were supposed to be, other than some kind of animal, but she did recognize a poser when she saw one. Back in her protesting days, she’d faced down “tough guys” who behaved in a similar same way. Sure enough, the Senob left after a moment, acting as if he was somehow the winner when he was the one backing down.
“I will go out on a limb and say that those guys are called Star Wolves[1] or something like that,” said Jenna.
“Got it in one,” said Ema. “They act like they run the place, but believe me, they do not.”
“So they are not a threat?” asked Aballa.
“To other gangs? No. But we are not part of any gang, so do not be surprised if they try to lord over you at some point or try to take your lunch so they can feel big.”
Ema then pointed to a different group, made up mostly of Senob, Hopat, and Draxon. “Those are the Diggers. They tend to volunteer for shifts underground.”
“Why?” asked Aballa.
“Partly because they are physically built for it and partly because dangerous jobs get more perks.”
“What kind of perks?”
“Salt.”
“Salt?” Jenna and Aballa said at the same time.
Ema pointed to her bowl of crunchy bland shavings. “Salt.”
“Maybe I should work in the mines,” Jenna said, half to herself.
Ema winked and pulled a white cube out of her pocket. She crushed it and sprinkled it on her shavings, and then some on Jenna and Aballa’s food as well. “There are other ways,” she said. “Spice is currency here.”
Aballa actually looked forward to her next bite. Somehow it didn’t just taste like salty shavings, it brought out a flavour that had been lurking deep underneath. “How do we get more of that?”
Ema leaned in closer. “You must talk to The Physician.”
Jenna frowned. “The Physician?”
“He is an Elysian. Only one in this Segment. Word is he has a connection with the warden and gets to do what he wants.”
“Which is make spices?” asked Aballa.
“Spices, drugs, and other special orders,” Ema said casually. “But not everyone does drugs, and, like I said, spice is currency. Just make sure you are offering a compatible biotype. Chemical spices are easiest to get. Organic ones are like rare gems, but also the most dangerous to deal with—both because of biocompatibility and the fact some people will shiv you to get it.”
“What does he charge?” asked Jenna.
“That depends on what you want, and what you can do for him. First, you get a consultation with the Physician. You talk, he asks you questions, finds out what you can do for him, then he arranges payment based on your skills and his needs.”
“Do you need to go through a gang to get to him?” asked Aballa.
Ema shook her head. “The Physician is a free agent, and everyone makes sure it stays that way. If any gang tried to claim him, the others would make sure they had a very bad day. Same goes for Stat the Tat.”
“Who is that?” asked Jenna.
“Terran, like you,” said Ema. “From what I hear, he brought a Terran tradition of prison tattoos here with him. They are very popular. Even the guards have them, only they keep theirs hidden. So he is also considered hands off. But he hears a lot from people. Has that bartender trust thing going on.”
“Okay, one more question,” said Jenna, suspicion in her voice. “Why are you answering so many of our questions? You just opened up to us out of the blue.”
Ema shrugged. “Why did you bother helping me? I have been here a while, and I spent most of that time laying low and keeping to myself. That did not get me very far yesterday, did it? You are not part of any gang, and as far as I can tell, you do not want something from me. But you helped anyway. That is good enough for me.”
An unusual look came over Ema’s face, like something was lurking deep beneath the no-filter exterior. “And sometimes you need friends to get things done.”
[1]The GalCom generic term for a mid-sized pack-based predator would translate as Wolf in Terran.
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