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Science Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Dayna scrambled through the escape pod hatch and into the cool morning air. She stood on the side of the pod and looked back along the deep furrow it had scored through the forest. Sliding down the side of the pod, her bare feet sank into the soft, damp soil, and she savoured the feeling. It had been so long since she had been outside and felt dirt beneath her feet, or a soft breeze against her cheeks.

Three months ago she had been imprisoned for murdering her employer, Professor Morrison. Her skeletal shoulders slumped in her threadbare prison clothes. From what she remembered of her trial she'd had an explosive argument with Professor Morrison, and was found standing over his body with a bloody knife in her hand.

‘Don’t remember,’ she muttered. She pulled at the single ringlet of red hair the prison guards failed to hack off with a knife. ‘Why don’t I remember?’

She balled her right hand into a fist and pressed it to her temple. Since the murder she was plagued by headaches which were getting worse in their intensity.

When the wave of pain diminished, she scrambled up the side of the furrow and found herself in an overgrown rain forest. High above, birds called to each other as they jumped through the trees canopy, in an intricate game only they knew, while at ground level animals squeaked, grunted and chirped.

Leaves rustled to her right, and she jumped and turned, expecting to find a prison guard levelling his blaster at her. Instead, she saw a furry brown creature with a long snout snuffling through the undergrowth. It paused and blinked at her with moist, black eyes before moving on.

Her heart thundered in her ears, and she let out her breath with a gusty sigh.

The prison ship had been on its way to Belaz, a penal planet in the Alpha sector. There the prisoners would be executed for the murders for which they had been convicted. They were a day out from Belaz when the ship came under attack in an attempt to rescue a prisoner. It sent the ship into disarray.


Dayna crashed to the metal floor and the klaxon sounded and a crimson emergency light flashed on the ceiling.

For a moment, she was disorientated. Then she remembered where she was, and used the bars of her small cell to hoist herself to her feet.

Past the metre-wide walkway running in front of the cells, the ship dropped away into a black nothingness that seemed to go on forever. She gripped the bars tighter when the ship lurched again. A cheer went up from the other prisoners that grew louder with every hit the ship received, until Dayna thought the noise would tear her head apart.

The lights went out with the next hit, and the noise stopped. A heartbeat later the lights flickered back to life, and the cell door gave a soft click before swinging open.


That was all she remembered of the escape. It frustrated her that she kept losing blocks of memory. She had no idea how she got into the pod, or if there was anyone else in it with her, or how long ago she had landed here. However, the blinking red light on top of the pod told her that the locator beacon had activated.

‘Must run.’ She gazed up through the canopy above her. ‘They’ll be coming. Can’t be here when they come. Must run.’

She ran but did not know if it was towards danger, or away from it. Her head filled with images of Professor Morrison’s, bloodstained face they had shown at her trial. They told her he had been her employer for the last twenty years. Surely she should have remembered that at least.

After three months of inactivity her lungs burned in protest with every breath she drew, and her muscles screamed at her to stop. She did not hear the whine of engines above her wheezing breath, until they were directly above her. She skidded to a halt and pressed herself flat against the rough bark of a tree, and watched as a shuttle from the prison ship passed overhead.

‘Must run. They’ve found me. Must run far away.’ But she remained where she was, rooted to the spot in fear until the engines faded into silence.

She waited and listened for any sound that told her the guards were closing in, but she heard nothing over the pounding of her heart in her ears. Her headache throbbed in her temples and grew steadily worse.

She stumbled away from the tree, and fell to her knees, lacerating her palm on a sharp piece of wood, which she ignored as she set off again. It was only a minute later when she found herself at the edge of the forest, a row of houses one hundred meters away.

‘Need to change clothes. Prison clothes noticeable. Dirty and ripped.’ The authorities would have been informed of the escape and would be extra vigilant. ‘Must blend in and become invisible.’ She pulled at her lock of hair again and scanned the immediate vicinity. She saw no-one. Gathering her courage, she moved towards the closest house. Halfway across the field, the back door of the house to her left opened.

She froze.

‘Can’t be seen, can’t be seen.’ Dayna squeezed her eyes closed and covered them with her fists. ‘Hiding in the dark. No-one here, all gone.’

The man pulled the door closed behind him, and was so preoccupied with the datapad in his hand, he moved out of the yard, turned right, and marched off without looking up.

‘All gone, all gone, all gone.’ Dayna dropped her hands and gazed around and saw the man disappear down the path between two houses. She moved in the opposite direction until she reached the low gate of the next house. She stepped over the gate and hurried to the closest window, and saw a dining table surrounded by six high backed chairs. On the centre of the table was a vase of yellow flowers.

Hurrying to the back door, she turned the handle and it gave a soft click, and opened into the laundry. On the bench was a basket of clothes which she rummaged through until she found a pair of black slacks and a white shirt.

She retrieved a sun hat from the shelf above the basket, and tucked what little hair she had left under it before she pulled it on tight.

Leaving the way she came, she hurried to the footpath the man had used earlier, and found herself in the street where a few early morning commuters went about their business. She looked up to see ships ascending and descending from the spaceport in the distance. She grinned. If she could get onto a ship and off the planet, she would have time to work out what to do next.

She half ran, half walked down the street towards the spaceport. As she drew closer, the streets became more crowded. Cars hovered slowly along, and no-one seemed to be in any great hurry. She slowed her pace so as not to draw attention to herself.

‘Blending in. One of the locals.’

The people around her smiled, and nodded to her as she passed the sidewalk cafes and restaurants. The smell of food filled the air and made her aware of how hungry she was.

It was such a contrast to the hustle and bustle of the metropolis she was accustomed to. This was the kind of place her husband, Rian, had been trying to talk her into moving to, so she could get away from her hectic job. She tried to remember what this hectic job was, but there was just nothing there; her mind was a black void.

From the alley to her left two prison guards, Jolan and Stroud appeared, and Dayna’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned away from them, and moved to the curb and fought every instinct she had to run. From the corner of her eye, she watched them walk off in the opposite direction.

She went to cross the street to put some distance between her and the prison guards, but stopped when a snippet of their conversation reached her.

‘… she killed that Professor Morrison person,’ Jolan said.

‘Ain’t he the one she worked for?’ asked Stroud.

‘Yeah, I hear tell she was part of some experiment.’

Dayna drew a sharp breath.

‘How’d you find that out?’ asked Stroud.

‘I was told when she was brought on the ship; she had some sort of neural implant in her head, but it’s broke and makes her violent.’

‘No way, really?’ ask Stroud, fascinated.

‘True as I’m standin’ here. That’s what you get for tryin’ to play God...’

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the noise in the street.

Dayna’s knees went weak and she held onto the lamp post next to her to stop herself from sinking to the ground. Some of the passers-by became concerned at the stricken look on her face and came to see if she needed help. She shook her head and pushed their hands away.

Images filled her head of places and people she did not know, and a blinding headache hit her without warning. She stumbled into the gathering crowd.

When she fell to her knees, her hat fell off and someone close by started to scream. After a moment she realised it was her. She grasped what was left of her hair and began to pull at it. She had to stop screaming or the guards would hear her, and drag her back to the ship.

She jumped to her feet and ran. A blinding flash of light made her stumble backwards a few paces. The screams faded away as she looked down at a smoking hole in her shirt front. Finally, her brain registered what happened, and a wave of pain washed over her. She looked up and saw Jolon a few metres away, his blaster held at arm’s length in front of him.

Her mind became clear and she remembered every terrible detail about what happened.


‘This isn’t a good idea, Dayna,’ Professor Morrison said. ‘Once you’ve had the implant inserted, you’re not going to be able to take it out.’

‘The Government representatives are coming to the lab to see a test subject. This is our only chance to prove the work we’ve been doing for the last ten years hasn’t been for nothing. I believe the neural implant we’ve designed will help control the behaviour in those who have violent and mental disorders.’

A month later, the day came where they could prove their neural implant worked. Three Government representatives stood in front of them and eyed her and Morrison expectantly.

While the representatives watched, Dayna picked up the knife that lay on the bench. Then, without warning she ran at Morrison with the knife held high, ready to stab him. She was a metre away from him, when she froze mid stride. No matter how much she willed herself to move, she remained frozen.

‘As you can see,’ said Morrison, ‘the neural implant stops the subject before any harm to another person can be carried out, and they will remain like this until a medical unit comes and resets the implant.’

‘And what happens when the implant is reset?’ asked Mrs Jennings, a tall thin, hard faced woman whom Dayna had disliked from the moment she met her.

Morrison picked up a round metal disk with a keypad on it and a list of codes.

‘This is held over the site of the implant, and with the correct code punched in, can erase the memories of what the subject was about to do. Once the memory is erased, the feelings associated with that memory are also neutralised, which means they no longer have the desire to kill.’

‘What’s this code – 1948?’ asked the plump, jovial looking Mr Hastings.

‘For those with deeper, uncontrollable physiological issues this code can be used to give them verbal responses that must be obeyed.’

Dayna and Morrison exchanged glances. They knew out of all the codes they had created; this would be the most controversial. It was the one area that would stop them from getting any further funding.

‘Please show us,’ Hastings said.

Morrison activated the code and ordered her to do a couple of things around the lab, such as move a pen from one bench to another, and to walk to the door and back again.

‘May I be permitted to give a command?’ asked Mrs Jennings.

‘Certainly,’ Morrison nodded.

‘Kill Professor Morrison.’

Morrison’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘No!’ But it was too late. The neural implant had already processed the command. Dayna picked up the knife and lunged at him, and stabbed him over and over again in a frenzied attack.

Dayna’s mind screamed at her to stop, but her body moved of its own accord. Blood splashed her clothes, arms and face. The knife became so saturated it nearly slipped from her hand. Then she stopped, got to her feet and stood over the body, and came face to face with the horrified looks on the faces of the representatives.

Tears streamed down Mrs Jennings ashen face. ‘I...I assumed the chip would stop her. I assumed it would work as it had before.’

Mr Hastings’ rosy cheeks had lost their colour as he snatched up the control disk and moved over to Dayna.

‘No-one can know what happened here. He turned to Mr Yenan. ‘Call security while I wipe her memory. No matter what we’re asked, we’ll say the two of them argued and she went crazy and killed him.’

Mr Yenan moved to the control panel near the door, and called security.


Dayna collapsed to her knees, and then fell onto her right side. She stared down the street at Jolan and Stroud who moved towards her with their weapons still raised.

‘Everyone get back,’ said Jolan. ‘She’s a dangerous prisoner.’

He stopped in front of her and, with the toe of his boot, pushed her onto her back, knelt down next to her and placed his fingers on her throat.

Behind him a sea of faces stared down at her with a mixture of mild concern and gross fascination.

She tried to breathe but was unable to fill her lungs. All she could manage were short, sharp breaths.

‘She ain’t long for this life,’ Jolan said.

She remembered the jury found her guilty of murder in less than an hour and ordered her execution. She was taken from the courtroom, straight to the prison ship.

The edges of her vision blurred, and a sob escaped her.

Rian, her family, and friends would never know the truth now and she would always be a murderer to them.

It grieved her to know even Jolan, who had hit her, and treated her like dirt beneath his feet, would never know the truth.

March 04, 2022 11:00

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2 comments

Hippity Hoppity
02:51 Mar 10, 2022

“After three months of inactivity her lungs burned in protest with every breath she drew, and her muscles screamed at her to stop.” Love these sensory details. They really helped create a vivid, intense picture of her escape.

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Sandra Byrne
11:23 Mar 11, 2022

Thank you for your comment. :)

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