Escapement

Lucy lulled between sleep and awake, thoughts blurred and scattered as sleep threatened to overcome her once more. An alarm blared, and swear words cascaded from her mouth; she slapped at the cruel bell near her head–success. As she rolled over, she checked her watch, glared at the early numbers, and groaned. Lucy extracted herself from her blanket nest and began descending the long ladder. Lucy’s bunk was the twenty-second pod; the hatch at the bottom was already open as she made her way to her next goal– breakfast.

Lucy put her bowl on the steel spout and pressed the button. Flavorless gray gruel cascaded from the pump, supposedly the most balanced food the government could grant. She took her place at the table at her number and slurped, the taste somewhere between school glue and starched water. As she chewed a lump of what seemed to be meat but tasted the same as the rest of the gruel, she peered out of one of the portholes but only saw darkness– an expanse of velvet dotted by stars. Space had once enamored her but now only served to enhance her fury.

She tensed as she remembered what led to her stay here on the barge, the “Reformer.” A stay here was one of the worst fates anyone from her colony could get. Lucy had not broken any laws per se, but she was the catalyst of a verbal scandal. Galmore, a leader on her home planet of Sphare, had cornered her at a debate, and she revealed her opponent’s data, personal data she got through less than reputable means. They cut the feed and slandered Lucy’s name. She had once been three ranks below the most trusted leaders; now, she was relegated to manual labor for the next ten weeks.

On cue, the buzzer rang; she walked to her place by the track, gathered her tools, and prepared to start when the next bell rang. Work began, and Lucy hooked a replacement valve onto the apparatus and pressed a button. The apparatus lurched forward to the next part of the assembly. Lucy had no sense of purpose but to apply valve after valve onto what she could only guess were war rovers. She only followed the computer screens as they showed the day’s tasks. She was glad for such thoughtless work because she pondered her true goal as her hands were busy– escape.

The sealed vessel was autonomous and only docked for resource renewal every ten years; only the wardens knew when that would occur. Lucy was a lone wolf and preferred to work alone. She could rely on no one but herself, even when the others seemed pleasant or helpful enough. The structure was very much us vs. them. Lucy must return to Sphare to prove Galmore wrong—she’s not crazy. The fury she felt for Galmore fueled Lucy and encouraged her, even when tempted to abandon hope.

A klaxon blared from somewhere further up the track, and work paused. Someone had probably been hurt, and others muttered, but none knew. Lucy crossed her arms and chewed her cheek; pauses were rare; such pauses shouldn’t go to waste. She stepped away; there was no way to know how long the track would be down, but as she glanced one way rather than the other, she stretched, groaned, and muttered about the lavatory.

Even when the tracks started back up, Lucy bought herself a few more moments, so long as she would not exceed the granted break cap. Lucy made her way to the last stall, the one she used every chance she got, and looked up at the vent. For weeks, Lucy almost had the vent sussed out; the screws could be undone by a long flat tool. From there, one could ascend the largest vent system to the vessel's heart. From there, she was unsure, but she needed to get a spoon from the mess hall or underhandedly steal a tool from lockup.

The next problem was the sound. An errant squeak could spell danger for her. A small amount of grease procured from the tracks would work. She thanked her lucky stars that grease covered every surface of the work zone. Lucy moved back to the floor, and work proceeded forward and droned on. The horn blared– work was over for the day. Lucy made her way to the food hall, her eyes on the vents as she went. The reformers ate only two meals a day, once when they woke and once more before bed. More of the same gruel traveled down the chute. They had nowhere to be but were expected to bunk before the dark hours.

Lucy returned to her bunk early. She needed as much rest as she could, and she would squeeze up the vent tomorrow. She would make her next move once at the heart of the vents. The day began once more– alarm, food, work, food, and the hours between work and bed began– her hour of escape. She muttered about the lavatory and wandered that way. No guards stopped her as her heart pounded out of her chest. A part of a broken spoon from a mess made easy work of the screws.

Lucy pocketed them for future use. A thumb of grease she had smeared on the back of the loo from work swung open the vent—too easy. She had to hold onto the vent grate as she clambered up to where the vent crooked and turned toward the system’s heart. Lucy’s movement was slow; how long would the guards take to note her absence? Lucy had pulled the grate closed after her. Concern grasped her as she maneuvered the maze. Every errant and unknown sound spurred her forward all the faster.

She reached the heart of the vent system and found the tubes branched everywhere. A red glow came from a control panel, but she wondered where the emergency pods were. A small pop and the panel came open. Shorthand labels marked where each vent source and power cable led. Lucy was stunned by her luck. She ran down the labels and found PD1 through PD300. How many pods were there? How many people? She could not waste a moment on that now. Another set of labels shows EMGCY-PD. She assumed those were the escape pods. Lucy had come too far to turn back now; she proceeded forward.

After about an hour, the alarms began somewhere beneath her; a code for escapee blared over the speakers. Her ears hurt from the volume, but she could not cover them and keep on. The pods were too close to stop now, just a few levels more, down a couple of ladders. She thanked her lucky stars that none of the vents had sensors to tell them she was up there. Lucy crawled onto the last stretch of her goal. She paused; the movement below gave her pause. Lucy had no way to defend herself; there were no tools or weapons– all she had was speed and stealth.

Very gently, Lucy removed the grate and peered out. She counted three guards; they had full armor and taser batons—one jab, and she could not move for an hour. Lucy mentally shook herself; her freedom—that last door—was all or none. She slunk out and left the grate open. No one saw as she pressed her back to the wall; she watched the guards' movements, unable to see a pattern.

Luch remembered her screws, took them out of her pocket, and tossed them down the hall– would they be enough? She watched– success! A handful of the guards turned toward the source of the screws. She ran toward the door of the pod and slapped the door button. The door began to close, every slow moment agony, but eventually, the seal snapped.

Lucy sat at the control panel and uncoupled the pod before a countdown began for launch. Ten seconds, and she would be free of the “Reformer.” She pushed the forward thrust and was off. She had no food, other plans, or star map, but she was free. Planets were far and few between, but Lucy had hope. The guards must have seen her abandonment as a voluntary death sentence because no one pursued her. She breathed the stagnant pod oxygen and her freedom as she floated among the stars.