On The Shoulders of Giants

Two crosses stood in the open area at the base of Cellblock F1, well-used metal T’s that would probably still be standing long after the rest of this place fell to a concrete ruin around them. There was something almost sublime about the thought as Takara balanced on a wooden stool, her bare back to one of the vertical posts and arms splayed against the beam, while Officer Wendy Vicano finished buckling the leather ankle cuffs. A handful of the guards who had broken up the fight and hauled Takara down here stood back and watched, arms folded, expressions ranging from disdain to mild amusement.

Assholes, the lot of them. Except Wendy. Wendy was kind and understanding most days, even gentle when she could afford to be. If Takara had to do an hour on the cross, she supposed she was comfortable enough having Wendy see to it. Her only regret was in knocking Rochelle Diggs out cold, so now the thieving bitch got pampered in the infirmary instead of getting to dance on the second cross.

Maybe they’d make her dance later, and Takara could watch from her cell. That might be even better.

“Yes, they’re locked,” Wendy said. “Keep tampering with them, though, and somebody’s gonna tack another hour onto this session.”

Takara realized she’d been idly fumbling with the clips attaching her wrist cuffs to the crossbeam eyelets.

She stopped and muttered, “Sorry.”

Wendy smirked and cinched the final strap behind Takara’s ankles. “Going up, honey. Let yourself down easy so this won’t jar you too bad.”

Takara sighed and slid down the length of the post until her arms extend above her at at forty-five-degree angles. It was her first time on the cross, but she’d seen it enough times to know the drill.

She didn’t willfully place her entire weight on her wrists, but she didn’t have a choice when Wendy picked up her feet and pinned them flat against the post. Sharp pain cut from her neck to her fingers, and Takara sucked a hard breath between clinched teeth.

Wendy slapped the ankle clip onto an eyelet somewhere south of Takara’s butt, and there she was, crucified. If only her parents in Zone 3 could see her now.

“Pace yourself,” Wendy said. “The longer you can relax here in the early going, the longer you’ll be able to hold yourself up later.”

Finding the advice nonsensical as her arms caught on fire, Takara nevertheless hung in the cuffs and tried to save her legs. She wiggled from side to side a bit, testing the bondage for some secret position that might hurt less, but she figured there wasn’t one.

“Is that observation or personal experience?” she asked the guard.

“A lot of the former,” Wendy replied, “a little of the latter. Every officer here trained in disciplinary crucifixion. Three years ago I hung for an hour right where you are now. My best advice is to control your breath and hang as long as you can.”

“You could’ve come down anytime,” Takara said more harshly than she intended. “Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten the job, but you could’ve said no and gone home.”

“And if I hadn’t gotten the job, you’d be locked up without me, hanging up there with nobody to talk to.”

“Perish the thought.”

Wendy reached forward and squeezed Takara’s left knee, then she leaned over and snatched her riot rifle off the floor. She was the only guard among those who’d responded to the brawl who carried one. Fortunately, she hadn’t used it. The things were nonlethal, but the pain level was reportedly somewhere between childbirth and burning alive.

“I wasn’t the only person of note to precede you up there,” Wendy continued. “Care to hazard a guess who it was?”

Letting her chin rest against her bulky metal prisoner collar, Takara said, “Nope, not really.”

“Fine, be that way. It was Sage Gallows. Before she got shipped to Zone Nine Asylum, while the lawyers and courts were still trying to sort out that galactic mess of a case, she spent some time right here in block F.”

Takara shoved her ass to the right, desperate for relief but still hoping to not push up with her legs until she absolutely couldn’t stand it. This party was just getting started, after all.

“Were you here then?” she wondered.

“Was brand new that year,” Wendy said, “but yeah. I put her up there once, same as I just did for you.”

“For me? Some favor, Officer.”

“You’re a firecracker, Taka, but I’ve never seen anybody fight that hard. Gallows fought the cuffs. She fought the clamps. She fought the whip. She fought the cross. Hell, she fought meal times and medical checkups. That girl wore a ballgag and heavy steel constantly, and I swear I was still terrified she might find a way to rip my jugular out.”

Takara straightened herself out on the cross and managed a tiny shrug. “Well, you do work for the syndicate that screwed her like a two-bit whore, and then didn’t even pay her the two bits.”

Wendy nodded. “I tried to be easy with her. We probably didn’t trade more than a few dozen words during the weeks she was here, but I like to think we had an understanding. She never broke my nose, at least.”

“You crux her a lot?”

“She got cruxxed almost daily. I only did her that one time—on orders, not my choice. I told her as much. I think she believed me, thank god.”

Takara asked, “How’d it go?”

“She was a machine,” Wendy replied. “I mean ... the cross hurt. You could tell. Nobody gets crucified and mistakes it for Yoga. But she hardly made a sound, and I never saw her shed a tear during torture. She’d cry at night in her cell, strapped down and blindfolded, but never when you’d expect.”

“Was she crazy as they say?”

“She was crazy violent, but only to protect herself or hand down her version of justice. I don’t think she was actually crazy at all.”

Takara gave up and pushed herself into a standing position. The relief that flooded through her arms was almost divine, but her slender legs weren’t going to hold for long.

“Say that opinion too loud,” Takara said, “and I might have a dance partner soon.”

Wendy waved the warning off. “I wouldn’t speak well of Sage Gallows in front of the warden or anything, but I’m not saying anything my peers don’t already know. Especially the ones who were here back then.” She glanced down and brushed nonexistent dust from her rifle. “So sad how they killed her, you know? All that rigamarole, then....” She mimed a noose with her free hand, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

Takara said, “If you were trying to make me feel better about dancing here, you just failed.”

“Look on the bright side—you aren’t an interstellar terrorist, and you’re still slated for release before Christmas.” Wendy tapped the side of her visor. “What do you know? We’ve chatted your cross time down by five minutes. Only fifty-five to go.”

“Yay.”

“You want a gag to bite down on? Sometimes it helps.”

Takara shook her head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure? I’m off to lunch in twenty, so you’ll be on your own for the duration.”

“I’m good.”

Wendy waited a beat, smiled, and gave Takara a friendly swat on the ass.

“All right, honey. Breathe and relax. And for the love of god, stop fighting other inmates, and you ragdoll instantly the next time a guard says stop. You aren’t Sage Gallows, and you don’t wanna be. ‘Kay?”

Takara blinked once, bent her knees, and sunk back into a hanging position. The burn rushed back into her arms, and she stifled a groan in the back of her dry throat. It was going to be a long hour.

“’Kay. Enjoy your lunch, Wen.... Officer Vicano.”

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