A biometric security expert, who works outside the law, must use his skills to break out of a prison on Jupiter's moon.

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Escape From Ganyemde

A sharp pain shot up Torin’s leg. His eyes snapped open and he found his face level with the swollen belly of one of the guards.

“Enjoying a nap were we?” The guard grunted.

“I was actually,” Torin glanced up into a round face, “But you appear to be standing on my foot.”

“Sorry about that, but nap time is over. Now get moving.” The guard jerked his thumb towards the rear of the ship, the other prisoners already marching off.

“I think there's been a mistake, Officer. This doesn’t look like the Hotel and Spa?” Torin chuckled. The guards fist flew out and caught him in the stomach, forcing air out of his lungs. Torin gagged, warm bile rising in his throat. He leaned forward and swallowed hard, drops of spit dropping to pool on the metal floor. The guard grabbed Torin’s hair and yanked his head back. The sides of their faces were almost touching as the guard whispered, “I’ll have none of that, scumbag.”

Torin stumbled from the ship and risked a glance back at the guard. He caught a glimpse of the rank and name emblazoned on the grey uniform: Senior Officer, Conlin. Torin made a mental note, in case their paths crossed again.

More guards waited on the platform outside, herding prisoners. As one great mass they were corralled towards a sign that read Imprisonment Administration Area. They filed into what was little more than a cavernous concrete room, the walls lined with small glass-fronted boxes. Each prisoner was shoved into one of these kiosks, where their names and DNA samples were taken. At the end of the automated procedure the machines attached a bracelet to each prisoner's wrist, this listed their new identity numbers, sentence length and contained their unique biometric signature. During this process Torin remained quiet, his eyes drifting around the room.

On the other side of the booths the prisoners were marched through a maze of corridors, occasionally passing doors marked GUARDS ONLY. Their march eventually ended in another wide open space, this one scattered with plastic tables and benches and stairs leading up to walls lined with hundreds of individual cells. The new prisoners stood around awkwardly waiting for their next instruction when a high pitched electronic voice squeaked out over a tannoy system.

The voice said, “Welcome to the Ganymede Solar Penitentiary Service. As per the Rules of Incarceration laid out by the Solar Judicial Courts you will follow all instructions issued to you via either your bracelets or our enforcement officers. This facility promotes healthy rehabilitation and inmates will participate in a mandatory work programme. This facility requires all inmates to report to their designated mineshaft each morning and work an allotted ten-hour shift. If inmates are unable to work they will remain in the recreation area of the cell block. As new inmates have missed the beginning of the work day, you have been granted the remainder of the day to acclimatise and will begin work tomorrow. We at the Solar Penitentiary Service hope you have a pleasant incarceration.”

With that unceremonious welcome over, Torin set off to find his cell, leaving the other new inmates to stand around looking bewildered. As he walked Torin kept an eye on his bracelet, the small screen shifted from red to blue depending on which direction he faced. A simple system to help guide him to his cell - blue the right direction, red the wrong one. He headed up some stairs and half way along the balcony the screen turned green. The door he was standing beside slid open automatically and he stepped inside his new accommodation.

The only furniture was a metal frame built into the wall. On it rested what was possibly the solar system's thinnest mattress, a pillow and a synthetic blanket, both of similarly poor quality. There was a small wall mounted unit beside the metal frame for dispensing food and water, the rest of the room was empty. Entirely unimpressed, Torin stepped back out of his cell and leaned on the railing to survey the common area below.

He let out a deep sigh. He guessed that from the moment the cargo bay doors had opened to right now, standing in front of his cell, less than an hour passed. Not too bad. One of the prisons on the central moons he’d visited had a processing time of more than three hours. Who wanted to queue on their way into prison, weren’t they being punished enough?

Looking at the size of the cell block he guessed it held around five hundred inmates. At the far end of the room was the entrance to the maze of tunnels that they had just traversed from the cargo bay. On the opposite side was a thick glass screen, too frosted to see through, and a small door, no doubt housing the guard’s office. Looking around Torin could see only one other exit, a sign above marked it as the entrance to the mining elevator.

Torin moved his attention to the few guards circling the room. Three patrolled the lower floors, another pair sat either side of the mining elevator doors. He looked at the prisoners as well.He spent the rest of the day like this, watching, assessing.

He saw the guards milling about, the prisoners returning exhausted from the mines. Throughout all of that Torin had been waiting to find just the right person. Eventually he settled on a possibility. A prisoner sat at a table by himself, not far from the corridor that led to the cargo bay. He’d been there since the shift in the mines had ended. Late thirties, short hair, broad back and shoulders hunched as he shuffled a deck of cards. Importantly, as far as Torin could tell he had no tattoos or obvious scars.

Torin descended the stairs and approached the table with a nonchalance developed through years of practice.

“Mind if I join?” Torin asked, sitting without waiting for an answer.

The other prisoner raised an eyebrow before replying, “No problem, know how to play Five Card House?”

“Of course.”

The prisoner nodded and started to deal. They played a few hands in tense silence before Torin said, “I’ll be honest, I didn’t actually want to play cards.”

The other prisoner nodded, “I figured, because you can’t play for shit. So who the hell are you?”

“I’m someone who needs a little information and a little help.” Torin set his cards down on the table, “ And I think you might be able to help with both of those things.”

“What info do you need? Because whatever it is, it will cost you.”

“That’s what I thought.” Torin knew that all prisons, regardless of where you were, worked on the same principle. If you wanted something, it came at a price. Drugs, weapons, food, entertainment, it all could be found in a prison.You just needed to know where to look and had to have something worth trading.

Torin continued, “If you can give me the information I need, I can help you out.”

The man raised an eyebrow, leaning in, “Help me out how?”

“I mean literally. I can help you out.” Floyed gestured around them, “Out of the prison.”

“Nice try.” He smirked and leaned back, “But there’s no getting out of here. At least not for another…” The prisoner glanced at his bracelet, “Five years, two hundred and twenty one days.”

“I understand why you might think that. But I’ve yet to find a prison that I can’t break out of.” Torin was just stating a fact, but he was unable to stop a hint of pride sneaking into his voice.

The prisoner continued to smirk, “Sure, and I’m King of Mars.”

“Let me explain. My name is Torin.” Torin stretched out his hand and grinned, “Your Highness.”

The other man took a deep breath, clearly debating between taking the hand or punching Torin in the face. Eventually, he shook Torin’s hand, “The name is Voss. So are you insane or just stupid?”

“Neither,” Torin let go of Voss’ hand and continued to smile, “Just someone who prefers being out of prison. I assume that is something we have in common?”

“You’re not wrong,” Voss chuckled, the first sign of any positive emotion since Torin had sat down, “But I have to say, you don’t look like much of a criminal mastermind. I’ve certainly never heard of you.”

Torin had to admit, with his wiry hair, narrow chest and awkwardly long arms and legs, he did look a little misshapen.

“I can see why you might think that. But most prisons don’t advertise when someone escapes. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be very good at their jobs. Unlike me.”

“And what would that be?” Voss asked, genuinely intrigued.

“An engineer…of sorts.” Torin saw the look of confusion on Voss’s face so continued.

“All the planets in the Solar Commonwealth have banned the sale of energy weapons. This has created a growing market for people who want to buy and sell weapons discreetly.”

“We already have a few black market guys in here,” interrupted Voss, “Weapon smuggling then, that’s what you’re in for?”

“Not exactly. My role came before the sale of the weapons. The people who buy these weapons need to evaluate their merchandise and make sure it’s legitimate. They might know how to shoot them but that doesn’t mean they know how they work. Without someone like me these guys could end up paying extortionate sums of money for a high energy toaster rather than a third generation fusion rifle.”

Voss nodded along, “Right, so you’re quality control for criminals?”

“Exactly.” Once again Torin failed to hide the pride in his voice.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re under the impression that escaping prison, this prison, is possible.” Voss sneered, not hiding his doubt.

“As I’ve said, the Solar Commonwealth limits the illegal sale of energy weapons, that means that manufacturers are legally obligated to implement security measures to prevent misuse. As well as checking that any weapons are genuine I am also responsible for circumventing those security systems.”

A grin crossed Torin's face as he continued, “My specialty is unlocking biometric systems that prevent weapons being used by unregistered users. The exact same recognition system used here.” Torin raised his arm and gestured at the bracelet now locked his wrist.

Realisation slowly dawned on Voss's face, he shuffled around the table closer to Torin to whisper, “Are you saying you can get these things off?”

Torin waved his hand noncommittally, “Potentially.”

“That’s a start, but how does getting these things off help us get out?”

”“Us?” Torin raised an eyebrow, “Are you in then?”

“You’re genuinely telling me you can get out of here?”

Torin nodded. Voss stared at Torin, weighing up how much of this story was true. After an awkward few seconds Voss asked, “Say that I am in, what do you need me for?”

“Like I said, information. I need to know everything you know. When work shifts start, when, if ever, prisoners leave the cell block, the number of guards you’ve seen. Anything that will make getting out of here more likely. You give me that, and I’ll get you out of this prison, and on a ship away from here.”

Voss sucked air between his teeth. He reached out and offered Torin another handshake. Torin went to return it, but Voss snatched his arm and leaned closer to whisper into Torin's ear, “If you betray me, I will rip you limb from limb.” Voss tightened his grip before releasing Torin’s hand.

“I’d expect nothing else,” Torin replied, rubbing his now sore arm. “So, what can you tell me?”

Torin was jolted awake by a piercing alarm. It had been an uncomfortable night's sleep, huddled under the scratchy artificial fabric. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and groaned. He reminded himself that it could be worse, at least this prison used individual cells rather than shared. There was nothing worse than waking up after a rough night's sleep and having to look at someone else's ugly face.

The alarm stopped almost as abruptly as it had started, in its place the monotone voice announced the start of the work day, “All prisoners to report to the mineshaft entrance.”

He dispensed a mouthful of protein gel from the wall mounted unit in his room, another bonus of this place, no waiting in line for food. He chewed the thick paste as he made his way out of his cell into the main hall. His bracelet vibrated and illuminated, reminding him he was to report to the mine entrance in the next five minutes to begin his first shift.

He joined the queue of prisoners that had already formed at the mine entrance. A guard scanned each prisoner's bracelet as they passed through a door and into the elevator. Waiting his turn, Torin considered his options.

Three days. That’s all he had left to escape. Voss had told him that the cargo ship, the one that had delivered the prisoners, would depart four earth days after docking. Long enough for the ship to unload the prisoners, refuel, then take on additional cargo before setting off for the outer planets. Within a week they’d be delivering goods to one of the stations orbiting Saturn or Neptune. Once the cargo ship left there wouldn’t be another ship for at least a month.

That gave him three days to come up with a plan, get on board a ship and get out of here. Realistically he had less time than that. His acclimatising period was over so he had to work in the mines today. Stuck down a deep dark hole he couldn’t do very much. At least that made the first step of the escape easy - find a way to stay out of the mines.

Mind whirring, he joined a group of a hundred men on the elevator platform. There was an almost imperceptible lurch as it began its journey down into the core of the moon. Seconds later Torin felt a momentary sense of weightlessness, the gravity clamps slowing their rapid descent.

The prisoners disembarked into a vast cavern. Torin could only see a few hundred feet in any direction before the walls narrowed, forming smaller tunnels winding off in every direction. The guard who had accompanied them stepped forward and spoke to the group, his voice bouncing off the grey walls.

“Most of you know the drill. For the new inmates, your shift is ten hours, you get a thirty minute break for food supplied from the dispenser there.” He pointed to a dispenser, similar to the ones in their cells. He stepped on to the elevator, “Pick a tunnel and start digging. Anything and everything you dig up is thrown into the processors.” He pointed again, this time at the massive metal machines beside the elevator doors.

“Do that until we tell you to stop.” He scanned his bracelet against the keypad of the elevator.

As the doors closed he said, “ In the meantime try not to kill each other.”

The prisoners around him automatically set off up the tunnels. Torin did the same. Hours passed, Torin working tirelessly. Sweat dripped from his forehead, landing on his shovel. Each time he filled a bucket he did as instructed, emptying it into one of the colossal processors. From the outside the machine looked unremarkable, a large metal dome protruding from the wall with a hole in the centre where the prisoners deposited the rocks and gravel from the tunnels. A series of pipes led away up into the ceiling of the cavern.

Torin knew that there was a lot going on inside the machines. Complex reactions fizzed and bubbled, separating valuable minerals, platinum, nickel and titanium, from the inconsequential granite and silicate rock. On his first visit to the processor he noted a handful of dials and buttons on the side of the machine, labelled with faint words, long worn away over the years. A more recent sign had been attached that said, “Do not touch”. Each time Torin went to the processor to unload a bucket, checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched, he adjusted one of the dials. Just a fraction. Not enough to cause any trouble, yet.

Another few hours passed, and Torin approached the processor again, this time listening to the high pitched squealing sound it had begun to make. Torin emptied his latest bucket of rock, counting exactly sixteen steps as he walked away and grimaced as he angled his face away from the machine.

Moments later a deafening rush of air blew from the mouth of the machine. It was followed by a trail of fire spreading out from the metal dome in a wide arc. If anyone had been paying attention they would have said the explosion was almost exactly fifteen steps wide. They would also have seen the force of it propel the man on the edge of that arc off his feet, carrying him across the floor sending him into blissful unconsciousness.

Torin opened his eyes and the bright white light of the room sent pain coursing through his head. He waited to adjust to the brightness. The ringing in his ears, which had initially covered the noise in the room, also began to subside. He sat up from the bed he was in, looking around.

Two nurses paced from bed to bed attending to the twenty or so patients who were currently in the infirmary. He had hoped the explosion wouldn’t injure too many people and, as far as he could tell, no one looked seriously hurt. His hope was confirmed when one of the nurses came up to him and asked, feigning ignorance, “What happened?”

“The processing machine malfunctioned,” she replied. “Thankfully no one was seriously injured; a few broken bones and burns from the explosion, as well as cuts and bruises from the debris. You were fairly lucky; you suffered a concussion and have mild burns on your right arm.” Looking down, Torin could see that his flesh was bright red from the tip of his little finger to the line of his overalls. The skin felt tight but it didn’t sting, more tingle.

The nurse handed him a small plastic tube, “Apply this before bed for the next week and it won’t get infected. You’re good to go.” She turned briskly away from Torin’s bed.

“Is that it?” Torin asked as she walked away. She paused and, obviously annoyed, replied, “We have two nurses and twenty grown men all complaining about cuts, bruises and broken bones. All in an infirmary designed to hold half that. So yes, that’s it. The exit is that way.” She pointed towards a corridor marked Cell Block. “See yourself out.” Scowling, she stormed off to attend to another patient.

Torin stood up, moving slowly, partly because his head was sore and also because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. The one guard who was on duty in the infirmary was holding a patient still who writhed as a nurse tended to his injured legs. The nurse he had spoken to was now busy fetching equipment from a glass cabinet on the opposite side of the infirmary.

In amongst the noise and chaos it was easy to miss certain events. Nobody was paying attention as Torin took his time crossing the room towards the exit. He paused for a moment to lean against a metal trolley, seemingly resting after having just stood up. The top of the trolley was stacked with equipment,syringes, vials and a small hand held device, similar to the scanner the guards used when he entered the mine.

A few moments later Torin continued his journey out of the infirmary, holding back a grin.

He followed the corridor back to the cell block where he found Voss at the same table as yesterday, shuffling his deck of cards. As Torin sat down, without glancing away from the cards, Voss said, “If that was your attempt at escape it didn’t work.”

Torin smiled, “It was not an escape attempt. Just the first step on the path to freedom.” Torin slid his bracelet from his pocket and handed it to Voss, careful to conceal it from any guards that might walk past.

“How?” Voss gasped.

“Sometimes the infirmary has to treat inmates with equipment that will damage the bracelet. So most of them keep a device which removes the bracelet but doesn’t deactivate it. That way, when they perform medical procedures they can remove it without setting off alarms.”

“It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it doesn’t do us much good. I still have mine on and we’re both still in the cell block.”

“I know.” Torin grinned, “Like I said this was just the first step. Now, the second step.”

“Which is?”

“Well before that, you have to answer two questions.”

“Ok...” Voss stopped shuffling and looked at Torin.

“Is there any way to get a guard alone without being seen?” asked Torin.

Voss took a moment to think. “Some of the corridors have blind spots; the guards occasionally use them to beat up prisoners or trade contraband without being caught.”

“Ok, onto the second question. Are you any good at following someone?”

The alarm signalling the start of the day blared. Today was the day. The cargo ships would finish loading and leave the prison. The accident had closed the mine until further notice while they waited to replace the processors. That had left the prisoners in the cell block for the foreseeable future. For most of the morning, Voss and Torin played cards. The afternoon wore on, uneventful, until Torin approached the glass of the guard guard room and knocked. When Torin saw who opened a panel in the window he did his best to hide his joy.

Senior Officer Conlin snarled, “What do you want, inmate?”

“I’ve heard that in exchange for certain incentives, one can acquire... recreational substances?” It was bold, asking outright, but Torin didn’t have time to be discreet. If he wanted to get out of here today, and he really did, he had to be bold.

Conlin snapped the panel closed. Moments later the door opened and the officer stepped out and eyed Torin, suspiciously.

He stepped close and said, “Why, you got something worth trading?”

“Yes,” Torin said. Another gamble, the best he had to offer was only more lies.

“Follow me,” Conlin muttered, shutting the door behind him. Torin followed Conlin through the maze of corridors which led to the cargo bay. Part way down, Conlin led Torin into one of the cupboards marked Storage. It was a cramped room lined with metal shelves full of crates of supplies. Once they were both in, Conlin shut the door and said, “Before I give you anything, show me what you got.”

“I have information.”

“That’s not how this works, scumbag. I work in cash or valuables. Besides, what information could you possibly have that I would care about.”

“I heard a rumour about your mother and some dock workers.”

Conlin's face instantly turned red. He brought his steel toe capped boots up into Torin’s shin, who bent over in agony. Then Conlin brought his elbow down hard, sending Torin sprawling across the floor.

As Conlin stood over Torin he said, “What did you say, you bastard? I’ll bury you in the mine for that. I’ll see to it they never find your corpse.”

Torin tried to say something but the impact of Conlin’s elbow had winded him, all he managed was a breathless, “Ugh...ow.”

“Ow? Is that the best you can come up with, you snivelling weasel?” Conlin laughed. Distracted as he was, he failed to hear the door open slightly behind him. Taking one huge breath, Torin managed to gasp air back in his lungs, “Actually…I was saying…now.”

“Now what?” Before Conlin could say anything else, Voss shoved his way through the door and wrapped one arm around Conlin’s neck. With the other hand, he grabbed Conlin’s right arm, which had been reaching for the pistol at his hip. The muscles of Voss’s arm squeezed Conlin's throat, eyes bulging out of his head. He flailed clumsily in an attempt to escape.

Moments later Voss laid the unconscious officer on the ground, “Right, there’s no going back now.”

“All or nothing,” Torin agreed, standing up. Catching his breath, he drew the pistol from the officer’s holster. He turned the gun on its side and opened a panel on the grip of the pistol, saying to Voss, “You took your time.”

“I needed to make sure he was distracted. Won’t we need that?” Voss gestured to the pistol.

“Yes and no. The gun is biometrically linked to our friend here.” Torin gave Conlin a tap with his boot. “I can circumvent that pretty easily, then it will fire for anyone. Not only that but I can download his identity from the gun and transfer it to my bracelet.” Torin pulled his bracelet out and connected it to the gun, pulling out a cable coiled just above the trigger.

A few minutes of fiddling with the gun and the screen on the bracelet flashed red and Conlin’s name was now displayed on the screen. Torin disconnected the bracelet and snapped it onto his own wrist.

“Done. Now just the clothes and, in theory, I should be able to walk us past the guards and into the cargo bay.”

Torin quickly swapped into the ill fitting uniform, he tightened the belt to hide how loose the trousers and shirt were and reupholstered the gun.

Once he was ready he grinned at Voss, “Off we go, inmate.”

At best they had an hour before Conlin woke up. They restrained him using his own handcuffs before they left the storage area. From there, they followed the signs for the Cargo Bay and so far hadn’t seen any other guards.

Eventually, they came to the end of a corridor which opened into a vast open space that sat below the cargo bay. Spread out across the space were a dozen metal cabins. These acted as both storage and office space for the ships that docked above.

Torin and Voss headed to the nearest cabin. Glancing through a small opening they confirmed it was empty, and risked going inside. The office consisted of a single desk which had a small console and a bracelet reader, similar to the one Torin had used in the medical room. There were also a few wooden crates and metal barrels shoved in one corner with paperwork resting on top, as well as a small wheeled transporter for moving goods to the ships above.

Torin activated the console and scanned his bracelet, identifying him as Officer Conlin. He tapped the screen a few times trying to find the information he needed.

He explained to Voss, who was keeping an eye on the door of the cabin, “According to the system, there are three ships in the bay above, the ones at station four and seven are headed to Neptune and the one at number two is headed back to Earth. The one at number four is currently loading its cargo and should be leaving in less than an hour.”

Torin glanced out the window towards a cargo lift that connected to the bay above. “We can use that to get us up. I can add us to the cargo manifest from here. I can even add our real names and register us as guards who are going on leave. Like I told you, the perfect plan.”

“Almost perfect,” said Voss.

“What do you mean, almost?” Torin turned to look towards where Voss had been standing. Instead he found Voss pointing Conlin’s gun at his chest. He glanced down at the now empty holster at his side.

“Well done, I didn’t even notice.”

“Sorry,” Voss replied, “But if there’s two of us there’s more chance of getting caught.”

“I should probably have seen this coming,” Torin sighed.

“If you’ve been in as many prisons as you said, you really should have.” Voss raised the gun a little more, levelling it at Torin’s head. He pulled the trigger.

Torin struggled to open the door as he left the makeshift office. The metal barrel he was pushing on the transporter was awkward and heavy. He managed to work his way out of the door and push the barrel toward dock seven. There were a few other officers wandering around when he arrived at the loading bay but they all appeared busy with paperwork. Torin waved down one of the dock workers.

“This one wasn’t registered. It will need transferring over to number two.”

The dock worker sighed, "There's always one. Why can’t you sort out the paperwork before?”

“Sorry, my fault.” Torin shrugged apologetically as the dock worker grabbed the transporter and moved it into the ship.

Torin walked back through the bay and up the ramp of another ship. When he was half way up, he heard someone call out, “Sir, excuse me Sir!”

Torin turned to find a man carrying a small display screen following him up the ramp. When he got to Torin he asked, “Name?”

“Torin, Officer Torin,” he replied, as confidently as he could.

“Let me just check you in,” the man scrolled through the display, “I can’t seem to find you on the manifest...”

“Are you sure?” For a moment Torin seemed genuinely surprised.

“Wait, there we are. The system must be running slow. Torin, Moons of Neptune is it?”

“That’s the one,” Torin smiled.

“Go right ahead, Sir. Have a pleasant trip.” The man shuffled back down the ramp.

Torin boarded the ship, following the signs to the passengers lounge. Once there, he took a seat and as he was getting comfortable a panel slid open and a selection of drinks appeared. He graciously accepted one of them and reclined in the chair, his thoughts drifting to Voss.

He hadn’t trusted him from the start. Like Voss had said, Torin had been in enough prisons to know that you shouldn’t trust other prisoners. When Torin had taken the gun apart he’d lied to Voss and said the gun would work for anyone. Instead Torin had uploaded his own biometrics so that only he could fire it. When Voss pulled the trigger, it had activated the security features in the pistol and released enough volts to knock him out for a few hours. Torin wished he could be there when someone discovered Voss’s unconscious body in the barrel on its way to Earth. Torin wondered whether they’d send him back here or just lock him up down there. Either way it put a smile on Torin's face.

Torin drained his glass, optimistic about starting another new life on the Moons of Neptune. Well, maybe not entirely new. Some criminals were easy to trick. They’re predictable because you can count on them to betray you. The ones that lived around Neptune were a different kind. They smile at you when they stab you in the back. Torin was sure he’d fit right in.