The Ice of the Fifth Extract

31/01/3025. -Icopolis Correctional Enclosure (I.C.E) Fifth Planet.- 

I was one of thirty-four men sentenced to a life of penal servitude. I got a one-way ticket off-world to a land of ice and death.

Sixteen men did not survive the Skip.

The chargers they shoved up their asses ripped through them the moment we hit hyper-speed.

We stood together, naked and chained, while the guards scooped up the remains of those who didn’t make it. The blood, flesh, and bones had turned to pink mush. It covered the floors of our transport.

Sixteen men were dead.

Were they the lucky ones?

The wind blew into the transport. It stole my heat and my joy. Powdered ice blew in with the wind.

“They’re taking their fucking time,” said the Big Man. “Get a move on, we’re freezing our balls off here.”

The other prisoners started shouting.

I said nothing. If they left us any longer the cold would finish us off before we set foot in the prison.

The guards wore grey thermal uniforms, with furry black deerstalker hats. A tall red-faced guard came over to the Big Man. The Big Man stood naked and unafraid.

We were chained and unable to move out of the wind.

The guard smiled and said: “We’re getting you used to the cold.”

“We’re used to it,” said the Big Man.

“You speak when we permit you to speak.”

               The Big Man shut up.

               “Come on Quad Scum, come and check into the Frozen Hotel. Keep your mouth shut, and you’ll get warm. My name is Guard Sixty-Eight. There are no names here. You will get your number, and you will forget your name.”

               The guards came and unchained us. When they came to the Big Man, Guard Sixty-Eight said: “Not him. He needs more time to acclimatize.”

               The Big Man stared into the guard’s eyes.

               “MC2000234 checked.”

               “MC2000235 checked.”

               “MC2000236 checked.”

               We were handed our earpieces. From here on, everything I said was recorded. They thrust me my turquoise overalls and gave me my number:

“MC2000237 checked.”

               From here on I shall be known as Male Convict 2000237. Vao Franklin is dead.

               “MC2000238 checked.”

               The count continued. The guards brought us onto a vent and told us to get warm.

               “MC2000239 checked.”

               It took three hours to check our paperwork. Two million prisoners dwelt in the walls of the I.C.E.

               They left the big man chained, naked to the wind.

               He was the seventeenth victim to die in transit.