Prison Pit

A short Traveller adventure for 2-4 lawless characters

Every society has its undesirables. Criminals, the politically incompatible, those who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most societies will imprison or exile such unwanted citizens. For an interstellar culture, this is made easier by the availability of entire planets to which the unwanted can be consigned. This is what the Third Imperium does with many of its long-term prisoners, and Odegra in the Koutala system is one such world - a prison planet.

One very popular form of prison planet is the hard labour colony. In theory, this encourages rehablilitation through hard work. In practice, it attracts commercial investment to cover the expense of running the prison. Cheap or free labour by prisoners allows the investors to turn a bigger profit. Odegra is run along these lines. Maximillian Industries 'employs' the convicts to work in open-cast mines.

A worked-out mine - colloquially known as the prison pit - provides acommodation for the six hundred convicts doomed to exile, as well as their guards and the other staff of the operation. Tracked crawlers transport the day's work detail to and from the working pit through the poisonous, deadly jungles that cover most of Odegra's surface.

Supply shuttles regularly bring supplies and new prisoners, and (rarely) take released prisoners away.

Life for the unfortunate convicts is spartan and arduous, unbroken by events of interest… until now…

Benkin the forger looked around the inside of the crawler wearily. Another day over, he thought dully. He met the shifty eyes of Hurker the Pervert - a process that always left him feeling in need of a bath - and looked over at Burkins. Burkins had been something big in the Army once, and was still sharp, sharp as a knife; but he'd lost his eyes in the fight when he'd been captured. His artificial ones were cheap and poorly fitted, and the old man could barely see. His facemask was loose; Benkin reached over and tightened it, grimacing at the pain from the bruises he'd sustained when Warden Bleacher had 'encouraged' him to work harder… again. "There you go, Pops," he said, his voice muffled by his own mask, "Can't have you doing the blueface dance when we get home, can we?" Burkins smiled gratefully.

From the bench opposite, Scarrow chuckled. Scarrow was small and slight and unassuming; he looked like an accountant - which was what he was. He didn't look like a man who could kill his wife and her lover in the most brutal and cold-blooded manner possible - but he was that too. He had only been released from the Kowalski secure hospital wing three days before; the man he'd attacked was dead, of course. "Perhaps he wants out," he said in his dry voice, "quick death compared to grinding out at this job." Many of the other fifteen men in the crawler laughed, or grunted dryly; it was an old, dark joke.

The cabin lurched, and then the vehicle stopped. The red lamp flashed, and all the men rechecked their masks and tanks. Each had enough air to get home, half an hour or so, and no more. Wardens Gorkan and Vaarnesh came down from the cab, checking the cons. Gorkan's handcomp beeped as it tallied them, while the sighting reticule of Vaarnesh's laser carbine clicked as he snapped it down over his eye. Gorkan kicked Hurker as he went past, then tapped the security pass strapped to his left cuff against the lock. The old-fashioned talisman lock clicked and the door opened.

In the fading daylight the convicts trooped out of the crawler. Overhead, the awesome sight of the gas giant Koutala filling half the sky didn't earn a glance; years of daily familiarity had rendered it commonplace. Of far more interest was the vast pit ahead. Half a mile across and two hunded feet deep, the Prison Pit represented clean air, a shower, food and sleep. All they had to do was march from the crawler park to the edge and down the spiral slope to the bottom.

A dull roar made everyone look up. A wedge-shaped dart had broken the clouds and was flying over them on its way to the 'spaceport'. A hoarse noise that failed to be a cheer greeted it; this was the supply shuttle Moe, bringing the monthly supplies of food, x-mail, entertainment data and bogrolls. Sure was low this time… Some of the convicts knew enough about spaceflight or gravitics to shout a warning, and some of the fifteen hit the deck in time, Benkin among them. Oddly, old Burkins was too; his ears and instincts sharper than his ruined eyes.

With a rib-shaking roar, Moe plunged out of the sky at a considerable number of metres per second and crashed squarely into the far side of the Prison Pit, on top of the acommodation. The explosion that followed blotted out sight and hearing for the watching cons. An instant later, flying shrapnel scythed across the crawler park. Screams sounded briefly as most of those still standing were torn to shreds, and the metallic tearing of shrapnel striking the sides of the crawler reached the survivors as well.

Then it was over, and the few surviors staggered to their feet.

In front of them, the Prison Pit was awash with flame. It looked like the whole facility had been torn open; the atmosphere of Odegra must have killed most of the inhabitants.

Behind, most of the prisoners in their work crew were dead, killed by flying debris. The crawler was punctured in several places but was still upright. Warden Varneesh was sprawled on the ground, his head missing. Warden Gorkan was stumbling dazedly towards the crawler, while Warden Rivers, the driver, had climbed out of the cab and was kneeling on the ground shaking his head while blood poured out of his ears.

It dawned on several of the prisoners that no-one was guarding them any more…