The Universe or Nothing | Page 8

male at ease, confident but wary. Below his gray-black bristle of close-cropped hair and space-bleached brows his deep-set green eyes moved on to calmly scan the deck, bulkheads and corridor. He returned eyes to the officer and the guards. He had the air of a leader.
The officer drew a deep breath and continued. "The manifest of the transport from which you just disembarked listed you as 'cargo' transferred to this station from the temporary holding jails of Earth, Luna or Mars, or wherever you were being held. Don't let being recorded as 'cargo' bother you. Official visitors and guests are passengers, prisoners are cargo. If the transport's brigs were cramped, that's the name of the game; they're not built for comfort. Each of you did get a separate cell on board, I understand. In that respect, at least, you all got better than routine treatment."
The last remark raised sardonic eyebrows on two faces in the line. The rest remained impassive.
Malcolm paused, then continued.
"Be prepared to be here for a while. You know your commitment period. Whatever happens to you here depends on your attitude and your compliance with orders, and on decisions by those conducting your rehabilitation."
Pacing the line he stopped before each prisoner and stared at him or her from under bushy black eyebrows. Relaxed against the wall, or tense and erect, they returned his gaze. Inspection completed, he nodded at the guard astride the passageway and turned back to address the line.
"You are inmates in the Social Rehabilitation Center of Guardian Station 15, about five million kay outbound from the Asteroid Belt's rim, or what was the Belt before the space-miners got through with it. This station was the mining operations center for this sector.
"Our internal security is good. We've had no attempts at breakout in a dozen years. In the attempt that was made before then, the inmate didn't clear the sector. When it was over, I might add, he was a bit the worse for the experience."
Malcolm paused to let his words sink in.
"This prison," he continued, "is where the rehab system confines its high-risk and special treatment prisoners. Inmates include persons convicted of piracy of spacecraft, smuggling controlled minerals and other substances, theft of government and important private properties, hijacking, espionage, armed robbery, gun-running to insurgents and terrorists in the Outer Region, and murder. That's the short list."
The prisoner's faces remained expressionless.
"Bear in mind..." the Lieutenant reached the end of the line and reversed direction, "that although the Guardian Stations are along the border between the Inner and Outer Regions, we're far from isolated. For example, this station's present orbital coordinates accommodate Inner Region traffic to the Planet Pluto Special Zone through both normal space and spunnel express.
"Escorted Inner Region convoys regularly pass through this sector on their way to the Slingshot construction site. They include high-mass-loaded container ships, construction rigs under tow and objects too large for the spunnel are routed through this sector when we're lined up.
"Sometimes they stop to pick up and discharge passengers and cargo, or technicians to service our specialized posts along the way and at destination. We may have a half-dozen or so spacecraft alongside at any one time, just doing their jobs. When the moored ships are perceived as crowded, inmates dream of stowing away to somewhere else. That's no more than a dream; don't underestimate our surveillance systems. You've been warned."
He pointed at one prisoner, then another in a jabbing gesture.
"Our job is custodianship of those who can't adjust to the realities of our society, and rehabilitation and training of those who can be helped, eventually, to return to the outside world. There are other options for inmates who have special attributes. You will learn more of those in time."
Pausing, he scratched at his jaw.
"You are sojourners among us, and transient," he closed. "We will not abuse you; on the other hand, we will not coddle you. We tell all new inmates, as I'm now telling you: cooperate, and you'll find your stay tolerable, resist, and take the consequences."
A stern, hard stare, a shrug and his features relaxed.
"OK, that's the official greeting for all newcomers. I know you've all had a long, boring trip on a beat-up transport. I expect you'll want to unwind a bit."
He glanced at the forward guard, back against the bulkhead, and turned back to the prisoners.
"First, we'll get you into some decent quarters, and let you clean up and rest. Get to know each other; you'll be together for a long time.
"The guards will escort you to your core compartment. Normally, you would have started orientation and psy-phys testing immediately. Your schedule is different. Your first orientation lecture will be in two hours. Sergeant Jenkins," he motioned the lead guard forward, "will escort you to and from orientation. Don't play games with