Escape from Altera
[Note: This is not a "sexy story". It is a mix of WW II "The Great Escape" and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's "The Gulag Achipelago"... set in outer space)
Chapter 8: Escape (from Altera)
Escape! It was every prisoner's dream.
Well, maybe not for every prisoner. Some prisoners never believed they could escape. Others gave up over time. But some still had the dream.
I was one of them. After nearly two years in Labor Camp 94, the time had come.
At first, I hadn't considered the possibility of escape. I had enough trouble just staying alive in the camp. But as I have already described, over time my situation stabilized, and my work got easier, and I got more food and better clothing.
But any plan for escape would have to deal with the remoteness of the camp. Even if one could escape from the camp, there was nothing but ice and snow for miles around. We weren't remotely near a small town, much less a spaceport.
And then there was the war. I knew, sooner or later, that one side or the other would win, though I was naturally hoping the League would win, and I would be released. But as one year passed, and then another, I saw this wasn't happening. From the crude Slurian propaganda that came our way, I knew the war was still ongoing; by my count we had been told that the main body of the League fleet had been destroyed ten times over. But if there had been an armistice, or if one side had won, I would have known it. The war was still continuing, and for me 'waiting it out' was no longer an option.
The restlessness built up in me. Finally, I broached the topic of escape with Kerensky.
He gave a broad laugh.
"Richman, you have been here two years, have you ever heard of anyone escaping?"
"Do unsuccessful escapes count?" I asked. But I knew. I had seen the prisoners brought back, not always alive.
"The guards usually try to bring them back alive, unless they kill a guard to escape," said Kerensky. "But many are brought back dead. Do you know why? Because they couldn't survive the elements. The cold. The snow. The lack of food."
"But we can dress warmly. And we can save food to bring with us."
"Where?" asked Kerensky. "Where would we go? We are 100 Sluromiles from even the nearest small town, assuming you can find your way there. And even if you got there, the locals would turn you in."
"Why?"
"For the reward, Richman," said Kerensky, taunting me by using that name again.
"Hm. But there must be some way to escape," I persisted.
Kerensky turned away.
The next day Raffen, the thief, approached me. "I hear you are escaping."
"Where did you hear that?" I asked.
"You looking for comrades to escape with, yes?"
I looked at Raffen. He had helped me once to get rid of Corporal Ivan. (Of course, I had paid him for his efforts). Still could he have turned and become a spy for the camp? Maybe, or maybe not.
"What do you know?" I asked.
"I know someone who is escaping, can give you name, yes."
"So?" I asked.
"10 gembles," said Raffen.
Well, that was certainly in character. I sighed and handed over the gembles. "Now, who?"
"I am, Richman," said Raffen.
"I think I want my money back," I said.
"No, relax, not just me, some friends, too."
"Fellow thieves?" I asked.
Raffen looked hurt. "Biznezmen. Come, I take you."
Warily, I followed him to another barracks. He led me to a man with a pasty looking beard who was sitting next to a man with narrow eyes.
"Bolshoy, this is Richman. Richman, Bolshoy," said Raffen.
"I hear you are thinking of escape, Richman," said Bolshoy, the bearded man.
"Can you say it a little louder? I think some of the guards at the front gate haven't heard you," I said.
"They do not care," said Bolshoy. "If you were not a Richman you would know this. Why do you think the night watch is so lax? And yet so few of us try to escape. Why, Richman, why?"
I shrugged.
"You are stupid Richman. Look around you! There is nowhere to go!"
"Then how are you going to escape?" I asked.
"I will tell you... for 50 gembles."
"Oh no," I said, thinking I was figuring out the scam now. "If I go with you, I pay you with my skills."
Bolshoy laughed. "Richman, what skills do you have?"
I turned and headed towards the door of the barracks, convinced this was a scam.
"Wait!" said Bolshoy.
I turned.
"We go."
"We?" I asked.
Bolshoy indicated himself, Raffen, and the man with the narrow eyes. "This is Kostiprev."
"What is your plan?" I asked.
"We sneak out at night. Over the wire," said Bolshoy, lowering his voice. "Three day walk from here is transport station, where new prisoners come. We sneak in returning transport, get to Oshtakov. Then, we get to Smolensk, sneak about transport, get off planet."
Smolensk. So there was a spaceport at Smolensk. Already, I had learned valuable information, though I had no idea where Smolensk was.
"All right," I said. "When do we go?"
"In two nights. Must bring enough provisions for one week."
I nodded. I could get that much on the black market, though it would seriously drain my gemble reserve.
On the appointed night I waited a few hours and then got up quietly. I walked past Kerensky's shelf. His eyes were open and he watched me go, but he said nothing.
It was very dark outside, only punctuated by the dim camp lights and the searchlights at the perimeter. I stealthily made my way to Bolshoy's barracks.
He wasn't there. Suddenly, I realized I had been set up.
"Hisst!" I heard.