Learning the Hard Way 1 Read online

  “Come in!”

  The door opened, and one of Rainer’s followers came in.

  “Rainer would like to talk to you, Keelan,” the follower said and left the cell immediately.

  Keelan sighed and got up. Mike half-turned in his bunk to look at Keelan. He gave Mike a displeased frown and left. Mike chuckled to himself and snuggled back under the covers. He fell asleep shortly after.

  The door was kicked open and loud, angry voices sounded. Mike jumped, but barely had time to shake the sleepiness off before powerful arms grabbed him and pulled him from his bunk. He anxiously looked around for Keelan, but the only faces he saw were either unknown to him or known as sadistic bastards.

  “Keelan!”

  A hard blow to the face stopped Mike from yelling again and somewhere behind the ruckus he heard a scornful laughter.

  “Keelan isn’t coming to save you,” Rainer said. Two men stepped aside so Mike could see Rainer leaning casually against the door frame, smiling a diabolical smile. Mike tried to wrestle himself free, but the two men holding him were too strong.

  “Where is he?” Mike croaked. Something in Rainer’s eyes made all the little hairs on his neck stand up, and Mike didn’t even try to hide his fear.

  “Don’t you know what the three jobs were for?” Rainer asked.

  What? Rainer gave me to Keelan to keep him in line, keep him calm. Rainer probably expected that I would be a decoration in Keelan’s bed. But Keelan said three jobs to get to my knowledge—

  “Ah, all those thoughts, all those doubts,” Rainer said, laughing. “This prison wasn’t big enough for both of us. I like it here... I have the power I need. But Keelan? He’s like a wild animal. He could never grow accustomed to life behind bars. I gave Keelan you to keep him occupied while waiting.”

  “Waiting?” Mike asked and sent the nearest thug a sidelong glance.

  “Waiting to get out. Be free. Escape. I’ll look after you in the meantime. And these gentlemen have... let’s put it this way... they’re here for their payment. You’re the currency.”

  Mike’s heart dropped, and fear almost paralyzed him. Rainer leaned his head back and laughed loud and scornfully as he closed the door behind him. The remaining men looked at Mike as if he was today’s special. One man smiled menacingly as he unbuckled his belt.

  “I’m first.”

  And then the realization of the situation hit Mike, and he began fighting with all his might, yelling and screaming. The men pushed him around playfully before they all laid into him with kicks and punches. Mike curled up and tried to cover for the onslaught, hoping they would knock him unconscious before they took their payment.

  For every blow and every kick, he hated Keelan more and more. He didn’t have the morals he’d talked so much about. He was a turncoat! He’d really given Mike a lesson in the art of mind-fucking. He’d tapped Mike for information on how mercs caught fleeing convicts to avoid being caught again. Keelan had mastered the discipline of mind-fucking people long before Mike was even imprisoned.

  And here he’d thought they were becoming friends.

  A cool sensation on his forehead made Mike jump, but his body was nowhere near capable of moving that quickly. He screamed from the sudden pain and tried to remember where he was. Then the memories of the beating, the humiliation and...

  Mike threw himself forward and threw up.

  “Here,” a voice said. Mike looked up, disoriented, but swellings around his eyes made it nearly impossible to see anything. “It’s okay, they’re gone.” A hand grabbed his lightly and pressed a cup into it. “Drink some water.”

  “Sal?” Mike barely recognized the coarse voice as his own.

  “Yeah. Relax now. Sleep. As much as you can. But drink something first, drink a lot. It’ll relieve the pain when you... when you use the bathroom later.”

  Mike looked at Sal and managed to focus on him shortly. Even though he wasn’t the one beaten black and blue, he somehow looked as destroyed as Mike felt.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “We’re in the same boat now. They say he didn’t use you.”

  Mike looked down and nodded.

  “But he screwed me over anyway.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear in here—” Sal said, but gasped and went silent as someone opened the door. Two followers came in and put a tray with food on the table.

  “Sal, Rainer said for you to come in.”

  Sal nodded and looked sorrowfully at Mike. The two left, but Sal took the time to move the chair up next to Mike and place the tray on it.

  “Thanks,” Mike said. Sal smiled half-heartedly. “How did you end up here?”

  Sal stopped by the door but didn’t turn to face him.

  “Never ask that. It’s not allowed. Yet another unwritten rule to learn.”

  Mike nodded, and Sal left. He ate slowly and drank a lot of water as Sal had advised him to.

  The days passed in silence and Mike slept as much as he could to get some distance from the horrible experience. Sal still came by to check on him and sometimes he brought food. Mike made no attempts to get any himself. As he saw it, his life was pretty much over. They hadn’t killed him. He wondered whether they knew that some of the inmates were here because of him? He really hoped Rainer wouldn’t rent him out to any of those. They would kill him for sure, and it wouldn’t be a quick and painless death.

  He closed his eyes to sleep again. No problem. His body couldn’t do much else, and today’s attempt to use the toilet had been something of a trial even though it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

  Mike jumped as he heard the door open. So far it had been Sal or another follower, but Mike couldn’t get past the paranoid thought that it might be someone who wanted to hurt him.

  “Turn some light on. You’d think you buried yourself,” a voice said. Rainer stood in the door, looking around. “You’re letting the place go. Don’t you ever clean?”

  Mike tried to find something to say, but his mind was a blank. The only thing his mind could do at that moment was force-feed him the same images that had been replaying since the four men had been there.

  “No one is coming by with food, so you better pull yourself together.”

  The door slammed shut, and Mike turned over in the dark. He didn’t even know what day it was, let alone what time it was. Not even close!

  Maybe I should go see what’s on the menu. Maybe I should shower first. I reek! Hell no! I’m not going down there alone!

  Mike tipped himself off the bunk and made it to the small sink. As best as possible, he washed the crucial areas of his body and started making his way to the canteen.

  Someone put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”

  Mike recoiled and bumped into a wall, letting out a pained sound as a bruised rib collided with the wall.

  “Dammit, Jared!” Mike muttered. He hadn’t really seen him since they arrived, and he certainly hadn’t thought about him.

  “You look like shit, man.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, I thought a military guy like yourself would be able to defend himself better.”

  Mike looked at him, angrily.

  “And the fact that I have to lay low because I’m... a soldier never crossed your mind? That in here people have more reasons to hurt me than to let me live?”

  “Why?” Jared asked. Mike looked at him for a while.

  “Revenge,” he finally sighed.

  “For what?”

  Mike shook his head and looked away.

  “What day is it?” he asked. Jared shrugged. “Okay. What time is it?”

  “Around noon, why?”

  “Have you eaten?” Mike asked. Jared shook his head. “You wanna go eat?” Mike really didn’t want to rephrase. He would just end up begging for company.

  “Okay,” Jared said. Mike sighed, and they headed for the canteen. Mike tried to shut out the scornful laughs.

  “Where’s your bodyguard?” someone yelled.
Mike closed his eyes and unconsciously stepped closer to Jared.

  “Where is he?” Jared asked.

  “Escaped,” Mike said.

  “What? I didn’t think you could!”

  “You can if you can pay for it.”

  “Pay who and with what?”

  “Someone with power. And as far as I’ve understood it, I was part of that deal. But the price was only high for me. As you can see.” Mike looked up at Jared whose attention had diverted to someone behind them.

  “And it’s gonna get a lot higher, merc,” a voice whispered.

  Mike felt hollow as he recognized the voice. He turned slowly and found himself face to face with a convict whose bounty he’d collected. A mean fucker, but not someone he couldn’t beat in a one on one fight. In his current condition, he did have his doubts, though.

  “Serge.”

  “Where’s your backup? Oh, that’s right, I remember now. You don’t have any,” Serge said, grinning. There were a couple of guys behind Serge with equally menacing grins on their faces. “Or are you the backup?” Serge looked at Jared.

  “No, just didn’t wanna eat alone,” Jared said, shrugging.

  Serge laughed and sent Mike a hateful glare. “See you later,” he said, and Mike thought he heard a promise in his tone of voice. Mike glanced discreetly after Serge as he walked away. Then he looked at Jared, who seemed less accommodating than before.

  “A merc. Not the kind of soldier I thought,” Jared said.

  “As I said, I was broke after serving.”

  “So you knew the in-flight procedures because you usually dump people in jail, not because you’ve been in jail before.” Jared scoffed and walked away with his food. Mike didn’t think he was invited to join Jared anymore so he stuffed his mouth as he made his way to the racks and brought as much food as he could carry back to his cell.

  You are so fucking weak! How long is this supposed to continue? It’s been at least a week, and you can’t even get your own damn food in the canteen. With Serge on the prowl, this is gonna get ugly. And soon. Maybe I should have a chat with Rainer?

  Mike entered his cell, wanting to slam the door in the face of all the worlds. Maybe sleep some more.

  A fist caught him clean in the face. He wasn’t rattled enough by the blow to not be able to fight back, and in the dark, he did. Outnumbered and still healing, he ended up at the bottom again, and the last registered thought that went through his head was cursing Keelan.

  Careless touches had woken Mike up, and he retched from the taste of blood and vomit.

  “Yeah, yeah, stay down,” a man said, pushing Mike back against the wall. It dawned on Mike that he didn’t have any clothes on and he scrambled to collect himself and his clothes while trying to focus on the man to find out who he was.

  “Rainer, if you need him for a while longer, then you can’t rent him out in the foreseeable future. Or you have to sell him to someone less violent. His body can’t take anymore, it needs a break,” said the voice which Mike finally recognized as the physician’s.

  “He needs that much patching up?” Rainer sighed. The physician turned Mike over on the floor and gave him an examination that Mike would rather have happened while he was still unconscious.

  “Yes,” the physician said, seemingly not bothered by Mike’s pain at the intrusive examination.

  “And what, do you want him for a week?”

  “And the payment for patching him up would be him? He’s broken, Rainer.”

  Rainer shrugged indifferently.

  “You said to rent him out to someone less violent.”

  “And why do I never rent any of yours?” The physician looked at Rainer as if he’d just made a valid point.

  Rainer gnawed on his lip. “Yes or no?”

  The physician looked at Mike. “Yes,” he finally said, got up, and pulled Mike to his feet.

  Mike groaned from the pain and clutched at his clothes. The physician helped him put them on quickly and without much patience before he hauled him from the cell. Mike was led through corridors which became less and less populated. The physician finally stopped in front of a door and turned to look at Mike.

  “Strip,” the physician commanded. Mike looked at him, horrified—then down the empty corridor. “You definitely need a shower!” The physician opened the door to a shower for one. Mike sighed in relief and took his clothes off, which the physician collected.

  The warm water seemed to sooth the aches and pains in Mike’s battered body. Even though the physician was a terrifying individual, Mike didn’t know whether he dared to feel lucky or if he’d gone from the ashes into the fire. Or why the physician never rented any of Rainer’s followers. But the thoughts were unwelcome—Mike needed to enjoy the shower and the much-needed break.

  The door suddenly flew open, and Mike recoiled against the back wall.

  “Turn the water off,” the physician said. Mike did and caught a towel thrown in his face. “Come on.”

  Mike wrapped the towel around his waist and followed the physician into a cell holding a lot more stuff than he’d seen in any other cell. It was also bigger—even bigger than Rainer’s. The physician went to a table and picked up a cup. As far as Mike could smell, it was a cup of coffee.

  Oh God, I miss coffee. He gingerly lowered himself onto a chair.

  “Did I tell you to sit?” the physician asked. Mike got up before he’d even finished. “Sit.” Mike did, hesitantly and tryingly. He winched at the pain and thought of standing, but he managed to distribute his weight to sit in tolerable pain. “I don’t know where you fit into Rainer’s plans, but you landed yourself in a very sticky situation.” Mike nodded. “I heard a little song about you being a merc?” Mike looked down, nodding. “Who did you sell this service to?”

  “The law, mostly.”

  “Collectors?”

  “No!” Mike exclaimed, snapping his head up.

  “Hmm, so not selling to highest bidders,” the physician concluded and sipped his coffee. “Slave trade pays well, you know.”

  “Maybe, I never considered it.” A long silence followed, and Mike averted his eyes to the floor. “Listen, I know that nothing in here is free, so... what do you need?”

  “In return for what?” The physician chuckled, but there was no joy in the laugh.

  “A cup of coffee.”

  “Uh, that’s expensive.” The physician sat down at the table. Mike shut his eyes and imagined the worst. “What can you offer?”

  “In here? It seems that in here I’m best at bleeding.”

  “Can you tell stories? I love stories,” the physician said. Mike looked up. “Tell me the story of how you ended up here, and I’ll give you a cup of coffee to go with it.”

  “Okay.” Mike reached for the offered cup.

  “So, what did you do before you became a merc? A prison guard looking for more excitement in life?”

  “No, I was an elite soldier on Spec Edit twelve. I was a part of a unit tracking down AWOL soldiers.” Mike looked up expecting to see disgust in the physician’s face. Instead, he found curiosity.

  “How long were you on that ship?”

  “Little over six years.”

  The physician nodded thoughtfully.

  “You want sugar in your coffee?”

  Mike felt his jaw drop but had the sense of mind to answer.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Continue. How did you end up a mercenary? An ad?”

  “No,” Mike snorted. “I ended up on Verion four, needing a low budget beginning on a new life. Seems to be the planet to do that. I ran into four mercs in town one afternoon. They were chasing a high-end target. I just happened to have seen the target, and I gave them directions and details that they thought belonged to a trained eye. It was a guy named Hallett who suggested that I go with them.

  “Cecil Hallett?”

  “You know him?”

  “I have a question. Does the Tribunal exist?” The physician continued so fast t
hat Mike didn’t know whether he’d even heard his question.

  “You sound like someone in the know.”

  “Does it?”

  “Yes, but I’m not telling you where it is.”

  The physician chuckled.

  “Which branch,” the physician muttered.

  Mike looked at him, puzzled, contemplating where a man like the physician would have heard about the Tribunal—the highest body of power, controlling the mafia, the military, and the senate. Its leadership had even managed to keep it a secret. The majority of the population thought that the Tribunal was a myth or a conspiracy theory and one needed a security-level one clearing just to get that one detail. But branch? Mike had no idea what the physician was talking about. There was only one—that much he knew.

  “One more piece of information and you get a little vacation,” the physician said. Mike looked at him expectantly. “Who was... is the commanding officer on Spec Edit twelve?”

  “An admiral. Heckman. But he’s not always the one to talk to.”

  “Then who?”

  “About what?” Mike asked. The physician glared at him. “But I can’t answer you then.” At any other time, Mike would have hated himself for sounding so panicky and pleading, but with this man and after the week he’d just had, he didn’t really have enough self-esteem to notice.

  “A job,” the physician finally said. Mike gaped.

  “I need to make a call then. Get you a job interview, at least,” Mike said, not thinking that anyone would spring an inmate because he was looking for a job. Or even hire him, but maybe it could earn him some goodwill?

  “There are clothes for you there. Stay here.” The physician left the cell.

  Mike sat staring at the door. Then at the clothes. Not new and not entirely clean, but newer and without blood on them.

  Perfect.

  Chapter Five

  Mike sat on the chair in his fresh clothes and looked around the physician’s cell. He had shelves with books, a cupboard with cups and plates, and more clothes stacked next to the bed. Mike wondered where he got all these things from—not even Rainer had a cupboard full of cups.