The Rig by Joe Ducie Page B

friends?’ the doctor asked. She made a few quick notes on the pad before her. Her desk was always cluttered, but even more so today. Drake liked that. He liked her, now that he thought about it, and the wall of qualifications behind her desk.
    â€˜Friends …’ Drake mused. ‘No, no friends.’
    â€˜My report says you got into a bit of trouble a few weeks back – another fight with Alan Grey. What have I told you about fighting? Michael Tristan stole a guard’s weapon in the assault. I hear rumours it was to protect you.’
    â€˜I didn’t ask him to watch my back. Little bastard took a beating for it, too. If Grey catches up with him …’
    Doctor Lambros
tsk
ed. ‘Please don’t curse in my office, Will. And what he did sounds like a friend to me, if you were being attacked. A touch brazen perhaps, but loyalty like that – in this place – can be dangerous, you know.’
    â€˜I don’t have any friends,’ Drake insisted, and thumped his fist against the arm of the leather chair. ‘Last friend I had …’
    â€˜Yes? Go on?’ She smiled warmly.
    â€˜Last friend I had … I got him killed,’ Drake said flatly. He took a deep breath.
May as well get it all out.
‘He was my cellmate at Cedarwood. His name was Aaron. You said something about it the first time we met, with the fire in the laundry.’
    â€˜It’s all in your file, yes. They also say you tried to pull him out, that it was an accident.’
    Drake shook his head. ‘Does it say the only reason he was there is because we were stealing tools to escape? I sent him. My fault.’
    â€˜No, it doesn’t say that. But the fire was caused by faulty wiring, yes?’
    Drake nodded. ‘That’s what they said.’
    â€˜You can’t blame yourself for wanting out of these places, Will,’ Doctor Lambros said and put her pen down. ‘Get back to the real world – to video games, the internet, sports, junk food,
girls
– but you do understand your behaviour isn’t conducive to those things, to functioning within society. That’s why you’re here, because, right now, here is the best place for you.’
    â€˜You think I’m escaping for … for what? Cheeseburgers and internet porn?’ Drake gave her a wintry, humourless smile. ‘That’s pathetic.’
    â€˜Why do you want to escape?’
    He waved the question away and rubbed at his eyes. To say he was tired was an understatement. ‘You’ve got your reports and your files – figure it out, Doctor Lambros.’
    Christmas Day came and went with very little fanfare on the Rig, despite the extra-special food Tristan had promised the night of Drake’s arrival. Roast potatoes and a sticky-date pudding for lunch. A few of the boys, somehow, received care packages from their homes dotted about the globe. Outgoing mail was restricted on the Rig, an Alliance rule, but apparently exceptions could be made.
    There was no work break, either. Drake’s tracker beeped, as he’d known it would, for his shift on the Tubes crew. Tommy, Mario, and the lads had been back on the eastern platform for just under a week. Drake had long since tired of the drudgery, but having no say in the matter – and not wanting to make any more enemies than he already had – he kept doing the work.
    A cold, near-freezing breeze whistled through the eastern platform that afternoon. Drake’s hand nearly froze to the hose as he swept the tubes clean on the fifth level. Having been at it a month, he’d suggested to Tommy a week back that they request an extra hose and split the teams into three. Drake and Mario, Greg and Neil, and get the work done twice as fast. Tommy had told him to piss off, but the hose was there the next day. Greg and Neil hadn’t been too pleased, as the amount of pipes Drake had to clean had been cut in half – work they