Prison Ship by Michael Bowers Read Free Book Online

out from his mouth. When he moved, he used a cane to support his left leg. His upper body was well muscled, making his movements quick, despite his disability. The shape of a knife scar on his right cheek matched the scowl on his face. He might have been mistaken for just another brawny thug if not for the glint of intelligence in his eyes.
    “Two mugs, please,” Steiner said, trying to ignore the nauseous fumes of the cigar.
    Without a word of acknowledgment, the bartender poured the drinks. Steiner took the opportunity to admire the assortment of various multicolored bottles shelved behind the counter. The man must collect them. The countertop vibrated when the bartender slammed two full mugs down. Just when Steiner expected him to demand payment, he returned to his cleaning.
    Mystified, Steiner picked up the beers, then trailed behind Suzanne to a darkened corner of the crowded room. They found one empty table cluttered with abandoned mugs. She pushed them to one side, providing enough space for both of them to set down their own.
    “That bartender,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear him over the noise. “What’s his story?”
    “His name is Bryan Sicket,” she replied. “He uses the nickname Bricket.” She pressed a few keys on her computer pad, and a personnel file appeared on-screen. “He was a corporate embezzler.”
    Steiner glanced through the information, noting that Bricket was an expert hacker. That would explain the hint of intelligence but not the rest of his appearance. “Has he always looked that rugged?”
    “Eleven years in prison takes its toll.” With another touch of her finger, the screen changed to a picture of a gullible-looking, chubby man barely resembling the bartender. “He was disabled during an escape attempt seven years ago. Since then, he has been highly involved in reform programs like the P.A.V.”
    Steiner peered over at the bartender, who grudgingly refilled a mug for another customer. “He doesn’t seem too excited about his current job.”
    “On the contrary, he’s part owner of the bar. He splits the profits with the prison system. While the ship is docked, the drinks are free in order to keep the crew happy until the launch.”
    Steiner took a sip of his weak beer, swished it around his mouth, then swallowed the bitter-tasting liquid. He watched as Bricket shoved back a drunken convict who had fallen asleep at the counter. How could anyone drink enough of this swill to get intoxicated? Steiner wondered.
    For the next half hour, Suzanne went over the records of each member of the crew while Steiner observed their behavior in the bar. Most of their pasts sounded the same—murders, thefts, armed robberies, rapes, and assaults. Steiner found that small doses of his beer temporarily distracted him, making the time pass quicker.
    “You have one more officer—the best one out of the lot,” Suzanne said. “He’s got a previous service record with the United Star Systems. In fact, you’ve worked with him before.”
    “Really?” Steiner asked. “What’s his name?”
    “Maxwell Tramer.”
    Steiner had taken another sip from his drink when he heard the name. He coughed, liquid spraying out of his nostrils.
    “Before you go crazy, hear me out,” she said.
    Steiner was so furious, he almost forgot where he was. “You have the ‘Killer Cyborg’ on this ship?”
    “Before the accident, he was one of the best weaponry specialists in the fleet,” she replied.
    “It murdered two innocent men.”
    “He was forced back into duty before he had time to adjust to his new form. The transition was too much for him. He’s had eight years to assimilate. He’s ready to serve again.”
    Steiner fought to keep his temper under control. “I refuse to work with that thing.”
    “Stop referring to him as an inanimate object. He is alive. I’ve spoken with him. His warden described him as a quiet, solitary individual who never harmed, or attempted to harm, any other