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 9: The War Captain Takes Charge
The surprising thing was, they didn't return me to the camp. Not for long, anyway. I was briefly kept in confinement until a time when I was put, under armed escort, in a transport. Then I was driven under guard for several days and was taken to another facility. It wasn't long after that that I found myself in a familiar office, flanked by familiar guards, facing a familiar face.
"So, we meet again," said the beautiful blonde Redcap Major who had brutally tortured me. "What brings you back here, spy?"
I didn't say anything.
She hit me with an electrowhip, and I screamed.
"I asked you a question!"
"I tried to escape."
"Not very successfully, from what I gather," said the Redcap Major. She knelt down to face me. "What was your mission?"
"My mission?" I asked stupidly.
She hit me in the face with the electrowhip, and I screamed again, feeling agony all over my body. It was several minutes before I was able to get beyond the pain to even hear what she was saying.
"What was your objective?" the Major demanded.
"I was just trying to escape," I moaned. "I have no objective. I'm not a spy."
She hit me again with the electrowhip. I think I passed out this time because the next thing I remember is that I was in a cell.
The torture went on for a few days, I think. My memory was hazy, but I remember it was very painful. She asked me about Kantiprev, Bolshoy, and Raffen, and I freely admitted they were spies, but that didn't satisfy her either. Finally, too exhausted to stand, I was propped up in front of her desk.
"I trust we have taught you the perils of attempting to escape," said the Major.
I said nothing.
"I asked you a question!" the Redcap Major said sharply, raising the electrowhip.
"Yes," I said thickly.
"Yes what?"
"Yes Major," I said.
She nodded, looking satisfied. "Take him."
The next solid memory I have is returning to Labor Camp 94. Several days must have passed as I was transported back, but I don't remember those either. The first thing I do remember is standing before Major Colonel Tromov's desk in a daze.
"Do you realize what you have done?" he asked. "Do you?"
"Escaped?" I said.
He slapped me in the face.
"Take him to a cold cell," he said.
"Duration?" a guard asked.
Tromov looked me in the face as he said it. "Standard."
Standard.
That was one week.
Most prisoners froze to death or died of pneumonia in a week. It was probably a death sentence, and he knew it.
They took me to the punishment cells and stripped off all my clothes except my underwear. Then they dumped me in the cold cell. My tortured mind dimly felt the chill. My teeth started chattering immediately.
I think I started to freeze almost immediately. In my weakened condition, my resistance to the cold was even less than it had been the last time, when I had only been sent to the cold cell for two days. I was so weak that I didn't even have the energy to eat.
And then, the cell door opened, and something was tossed into my cell. My flight jacket and my trousers. Dimly, I put them on.
They weren't enough to keep out the cold, but they did keep me alive. I had to be careful of my feet, for they were still bare, but as long as I sat crosslegged I could get some circulation. Gradually, my mind started to return to me, and I found the strength to eat the meager rations they left me.
I survived the entire week, but when I got out, I could barely stand or even put on my boots. For some reason I was taken immediately to the camp hospital, where I spent the next week. In the relative warmth of the hospital and on full rations, I slowly started to recover.
As I recovered I wondered what was happening. How did I get clothes in the cold cell? How had I gotten a week in the hospital?
By the time I was released I had recovered somewhat and had figured out part of it. I went immediately to Kerensky. He didn't even look at me, paying attention to a datapad. He was always reading one of his many books.
"You're back," he said.
"I'm back," I agreed. "May I ask two questions?"
Kerensky didn't answer.
"How?"
"It took bribing," said Kerensky. "A lot of bribing."
"And my second question: Why?"
Kerensky put down the datapad. "Because although you made a mistake, you still have potential."
"Potential? Potential for what?"
Kerensky lowered his voice. "Potential for escape."
"What do you mean?"
"We are going to get out of here," said Kerensky.
"We? Who are we? I thought you said escape was impossible," I said.
"Not with the right people. We almost made it, last time."
"Who is we?" I asked.
"Sasha, myself, one or two others... and the other Richman."
"The other Richman?" I asked. My mind raced.
"He is taken from camp to camp, he is only here for short periods of time. He has been here for over a week. I have persuaded him to delay our escape attempt until you were well. When I told him about you, he agreed."
"What other Richman?" I said. "Someone else, someone from the League?"
"Yes," said Kerensky.
"A soldier, like me?"
"Yes," said Kerensky. "He is brilliant, but he is one of their trophy prisoners, under constant guard and interrogation."
"Why didn't you tell me about this other Richman, ah, League soldier?"
"He is not often here," said Kerensky.
"Wait," I said, getting a bad feeling. "You say he's one of their trophy prisoners. And he's brilliant. What is his name?"
"His name?" said Kerensky.
