The Factory

by Tarlan

Pairing: Ryan Simms - Sliders

Rated: E

Warning: Some swearing.

Disclaimer: I'm sorry I don't own him but I won't be making any money out this.

Spoilers: None

Summary: Ryan starts his journey through this new dimension and discovers that this world is far different from the one he left behind.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As the last ripples of the wormhole died away, Ryan gave a deep sigh, his eyes roaming the world about him. Fall seemed to have come early to this dimension and Ryan took a moment to admire the myriad shades of brown, red, gold and green. He realized that he had never really stopped to appreciate all that was around him before, always too eager to move onto the next adventure. The snowcapped mountains of the Himalayas were a blur, the brilliance of the rain forest flowers had merged into the darkness of the dense foliage, all had become just a vague memory to him now.

It occurred to him that he had done so much and yet he had seen so little, never taking the time to take in the many vistas set before him. Ryan made himself a promise that this time around he would take it slower, give himself a chance to experience the beauty as well as the adrenaline rush.

Walking at a slow even pace down the winding road, he became aware that the outskirts of the small settlement were just around the next curve. He had traveled there once already and had been surprised at how similar everything had seemed to the world he had left behind. Even his money had been accepted; making him believe this dimension had traveled down an identical political path to his own.

As he entered the settlement, Ryan realized that the best method of gaining a true picture of this dimension and learn its differences was to read the daily newspaper so he decided to make that his first task. Strolling through the almost empty streets of the small settlement it confused Ryan that there was no visible vendor. He decided to go back to the store where he had bought his clothing and the rucksack. It was only as he wandered around that store that he realized there were no books or magazines of any description, in fact there was nothing made of paper. Ryan frowned. It seemed a little odd but he quickly convinced himself that there was nothing sinister here, that perhaps those sort of goods had no saleable value in this particular store and would be available elsewhere.

"Have you any more paper?"

The words startled him out of his thoughts and Ryan turned to face the speaker, recognizing him as the Storekeeper with whom he had made the earlier transaction.

"I'm sorry?"

"If you see anything you like then I'll trade you for more paper. Must warn you though, young fella like you shouldn't be going around waving paper under people's noses. There are folks who take the law real serious and are apt to report you to the Protectors."

"Report me?"

The Storekeeper gave Ryan an askance look, confusion filling the wary brown eyes, then he seemed to satisfy himself with an explanation, the frown lifting.

"You must be new in these parts. Perhaps the laws are more relaxed where you came from."

Ryan frowned. This was getting stranger by the moment but some inner sixth sense warned him to pay attention to what this man was saying.

"Yes. I'm new in town. I've been traveling abroad for quite some time. I arrived just a few days ago."

"Ah! Then you might not know the Law of Paper in this Protectorate."

"Which is?"

"Paper is restricted for the use of the elite. Anyone else using paper can be fined or imprisoned... depending on the extent of the crime committed." The Storekeeper gave Ryan a secretive smile. "Now you look like a well-bred young man so I reckoned it was safe to take that paper in exchange... so long as I didn't pass it on. Not that I would want to part with it though. Long time since I felt such fine quality, and with such pretty pictures too."

Ryan could not stop the surprise from showing on his face. It had never occurred to him that the Storekeeper had plucked those particular bill denominations from his hand for their beauty rather than face value. It explained the Storekeeper's avid expression at the sight of the dollar bills, but he had wrongly assumed the man was merely commenting on how crisp and new they appeared.

"So... how does anyone buy anything around here?"

"You really are a newcomer. Didn't they give you a plastic card at the border? To record your credits."

Ryan saw a strange, closed expression cross the man's face and quickly stuck his hand into his pocket. He struggled for a moment with the tight jeans before withdrawing the white plastic card he had been given by the Lottery Commission back in his own dimension; the card that had given him everything he desired on what was to have been the very last day of his life.

"Is this it?"

The dark eyes widened in shock.

"Well! I just knew you was a high class fella. You don't see many white cards, certainly not this far outside of the town."

Ryan figured the town the Storekeeper was talking about was Oakland, knowing from his talks with Wade that the Sliders wormhole opened up relatively close to San Francisco in each dimension.

"Here, let me check your credits... sir."

The man plucked the card from Ryan's fingers and, before he could object, the card was placed flat down on what had to be a scanner. Ryan was not surprised when the machine gave an error message, a red light flashing ominously.

"Hmm... seems you got a problem there. Not getting anything from the scan, not even a picture. You'd best contact the Protectors before curfew or you won't find a room before the patrols come out."

As Ryan retrieved the card he noticed the Storekeeper was eyeing him with a lot more suspicion.

"Yeah... that's why I used the paper earlier. Card wouldn't scan. Maybe you can give me directions to the Protectors."

"Sure. You go out the door and turn left. Walk a block then turn right and there it is. You can't miss it. I'll let them know you're on your way."

"Great. Thanks. I'll... get going now."

Ryan stepped outside and, realizing the Storekeeper was watching him with those dark eyes still narrowed in suspicion, he moved off to the left and started walking. Once he had turned the corner, Ryan stopped and slid into the nearest alleyway.

What the hell should I do now?

He wondered if he could risk going to these Protectors, but if he didn't then they may come searching for him. Then there was this curfew. Why was it in place? What would happen if he was caught by a patrol?

"They have heat sensors."

"What?"

Ryan spun around and came face to face with a pretty girl.

"The Protectors. So if you're thinking of hiding from them, then don't. They'll find you."

"Who are you?"

The girl gave Ryan a crooked smile and pointed to the opened door in the back alley. "My father's the Storekeeper, and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. He's called the Protectors... they're waiting for you."

Ryan pursed his lips.

"Is it safe?"

Her eyes filled with regret. "No... But the alternative is worse. They won't come searching for you until after the curfew, because a different set of laws apply then; laws that you don't want to break."

"What if I head for the border?"

"You'll never make it. They'll be watching for you."

"Why?"

"Because they need workers for the Factory... probably gave you a dud card on purpose, so you wouldn't find cover before curfew, and then they'd have the right to send you to the Factory."

"What's the Factory?"

She gave him a nervous smile. "Believe me, you don't want to know. Do yourself a favour and go to the Protectors now... take the lighter punishment."

Ryan could read the sincerity in her dark eyes. Her head turned suddenly, her expression growing distant as she focused on some sound he had not heard.

"I've got to go. If my father realizes I spoke to you he might report me too. It's against the law for a woman to speak to a man outside of the home."

Ryan nodded, stunned by this latest revelation and wondering what kind of cruel world he had landed in. He watched as her lithe frame slipped back inside the yard of the store then he turned away, walking slowly back to the entrance of the alleyway. Looking ahead he could see the Protectorate building. As the Storekeeper had said, it was impossible to miss with its beautiful red faade and white-framed windows. A stone shield hung above the impressive entrance; a hammer sparking off metal, the words 'Labor Pays' scrolled beneath it.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan walked into the building and approached the mahogany desk placed mid-center in the large hall, his eyes falling on the rat-faced man sitting behind it. The small, beady eyes stabbed into him before giving him an all-over appraisal. Ryan felt himself becoming uncomfortable beneath that open stare, wondering what thoughts were turning over in this man's head to cause such a decidedly malevolent expression on his face.

"You must be the man I have just been informed of. I've been expecting you. Sit."

Ryan took the seat across from the desk and licked suddenly dry lips as he contemplated the cruel curl of the thin mouth.

"Your card."

Ryan handed over the white plastic card and waited while the man scanned it, those cruel eyes flicking up without any surprise in them when it became apparent from the red flashing light that he had retrieved no information from it. The girl's words came back to Ryan, that cards were deliberately tampered with for nefarious reasons.

"It seems you are without credit and without identification. Without identification you cannot find work... without work you cannot obtain credit... without credit you become a burden on those around you." The man sneered. "But you look strong enough to work."

The man sat upright, his eyes hardening to flint as he gazed deep into Ryan's eyes.

"Three months in the Factory will earn you identification and credit."

"Perhaps there is some other..."

The man pressed a button on his desk.

"That's not a offer... that is your punishment for being in the Protectorate without identification and credit."

Ryan leapt up from his seat as two burly guards closed in on him. His upper arms were grabbed in a vicelike grip and he struggled uselessly as they dragged him away.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Ryan wiped his hand across his grimy forehead, wishing there was some way to stop the sweat from trickling down and stinging his already sore eyes. He had been in the oppressive heat of the Factory for three weeks, his clothes quickly turning to rags, the remnants of his t-shirt sticking to his sweating flesh. He swallowed hard, his mouth so dry in comparison to the rest of him, but he knew there would not be another water break for at least an hour, longer still if the guards felt like being cruel. Unfortunately, cruelty seemed to be a prerequisite of job, perhaps it was even part of the job description.

The sting of the lash made him arch his back and he hissed in anger. He had learned his lesson very early on that it did not pay to try and fight back. It was better to accept the light sting and return to work rather than risk a heavier lashing or a beating.

Ryan lifted the metal sheet and placed it on the bed of the machine, holding it steady as a hydraulic press punched a shape out of the sheet. He discarded the remnants, throwing them into the heated furnace behind him where the metal would be melted and pressed into yet another sheet. Ryan placed the shape onto the conveyor belt where it was carried off for the attentions of another unfortunate Factory worker. He had followed the same pattern, over and over, for twelve hours every day since his arrival. His hands ached from the fine metal splinters that had embedded themselves under his skin, and from the cuts he had taken from the sharp edges of the metal sheets, but no-one provided any gloves.

Another hour passed and then a whistle sounded. Ryan sagged in relief and wandered along the row, joining the rank and file of other fatigued workers, their lack of hope so apparent in their defeated, bent posture and dulled eyes.

A ladle of water was held up to him and he quickly swallowed every drop before it was taken away and presented to the next man.

Ryan sank onto the floor nearby and closed his eyes. Only three weeks and he was already exhausted beyond belief. His mind drifted back to Wade Wells and the others, full of regret that he had not gone with them, but then he reminded himself that they may have fared no better in the next dimension. They may even be dead.

"Rest time's up. Get back to work."

Ryan stared up at the guard in bewilderment, wondering if he had drifted off during these precious few minutes as it seemed only seconds ago that he had sat down. He hauled himself back to his feet and joined the line of men as they trudged back to their positions on the Factory floor.

Hours later they were being led back to the massive dormitory that housed all the workers.

A steaming bowl of stew and a chunk of dry bread was handed to each man as they went through the door. Ryan took his in trembling, sore hands, holding on tight to the precious meal as he weaved his way through the throng of collapsed bodies, searching for somewhere safe to sit and eat. He found a space by the wall and propped his back against it as he slid to the floor, then quickly he began to shovel the food into his mouth before any of the others could gang together and try to take it from him. He had lost several meals over the past three weeks before learning which men to avoid.

A man nearby cried out as his bowl and bread were snatched from his hands. His futile attempt to grab the meal back was met with several kicks. The pain-filled eyes latched onto Ryan's as the man writhed in agony, curled up on the floor and Ryan felt a lump form in his throat, feeling ashamed of his cowardice in not lifting a finger to help the man. Ryan bowed his head, lowering his eyes away and took a few more mouthfuls of his stew. When he looked back a few moments later, surreptitiously, the man had started to crawl away.

"Damn it!" he spoke softly to himself.

Ryan shuffled towards the hurt and hungry man and stuffed the remainder of his stew and bread into the surprised hands then he turned away. He felt a hand on his leg and glanced back, seeing eyes glistening with gratitude. Ryan nodded once and crawled back to the wall, bringing his knees up close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He lowered his head and let his eyes shut.

"That was a kind thing you just done. Not many would. How long you in for?"

Ryan looked sideways, trying to see the features of the man through the growing dimness as the last of the daylight faded from the overcrowded room.

"Three months."

"Hmm... Same as me."

"How long you got left?"

"Probably 'til I die. Been here almost two years already."

Ryan felt the shock ripple through him. "I don't understand?"

"They always find some reason to extend the punishment. If you don't give them one through ignorance then they make one up, or they force you to commit some violation of their laws."

Ryan felt his heart sink in his chest. From all he had seen there was no reason to disbelieve this man. He drew in a deep breath, his mouth tightening, lips pressing together hard.

"I'm not planning on staying here 'til I die old and broken."

"Any escape attempt is met with worse punishment - or death."

"I've faced death before. I'm not afraid... and I'd rather die fighting for my freedom than spend the rest of my life wasting away in here. Be a damn sight quicker and a lot less painful in the long run."

The man smiled, the last of the light glinting off slowly decaying teeth. He leaned in close and whispered softly.

"I have a plan... but I need someone who's still strong and fresh to help. If you help me then I'll make sure you get out too."

Ryan glanced around, making certain no-one had overheard.

"It's a deal."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

>Ryan kept close to Martin from then on but four days passed before Martin was able to give him the signal. Ryan quickly set to work, pulling and scraping at the decayed brickwork that Martin had discovered some time before and had slowly been working at over the past year and a half. In the meantime, Martin kept watch, hissing whenever a guard came near. The work was slow and painful and Ryan found he could only snatch maybe twenty minutes over an entire day.

It took another two weeks before Ryan felt his fingers break through to the outside. He put one eye to the hole and gazed out, the green of the grass and the sight of tall trees swaying in the breeze almost an alien landscape after more than a month in this hell-hole. Cool air rushed in, pushing aside the heavy, acrid air of the Factory and Ryan found himself placing his mouth against the hole, breathing in the cleanness deep into his lungs.

"Ryan!!"

The harsh whisper had him covering the hole and slinking back to his place on the Factory floor, but he paused long enough to give Martin a quick triumphant grin.

Once he had broken through to the outside, the remaining brickwork seemed to crumble with ease and only another week passed before Ryan was sure the hole was big enough for his broad frame to pass through. Ryan felt his nerves beginning to stretch with the fear of discovery as the days passed by, and he could feel a similar coiled tension in Martin. He hoped his partner would not break before they made their bid for freedom. The two men spent that night whispering their final escape plans, snuggling up in each other's embrace in pretence of a relationship, using this as a way of dissuading others from pressing too close and possibly overhearing their plans. Ryan was well aware of another plus to this apparent closeness. The heat of the Factory floor gave way to bitter coldness in the dormitory so it was a common sight to see men huddled together, sharing warmth through the short but freezing nights.

They decided to go at first light when the guard changed, knowing they might not be missed until nightfall for no-one paid much attention to anyone else in this place, being too concerned with their own survival and of those they had brought close to them. All they had to do was ensure they did not arouse the suspicions of the guards by keeping a low profile for those first few hours.

When the time came, Ryan scrabbled through first, quickly glancing from side to side as he crouched beside the escape hole then beckoning Martin through. He tugged at the weaker man, pulling him onto the soft earth then, together, they sealed up the hole as best they could, wanting to prevent it from being discovered for as long as possible.

They ran from cover to cover, peering around corners with anxious eyes before making the next move. Ryan was surprised by the lack of guards and other security measures even though Martin had insisted that no-one had ever managed to escape from the Factory before so none were needed. It seemed too good to be true and Ryan was soon grateful he had kept his disbelief from allowing him to run headlong into the woods without due care and attention. It was a flash of sunlight reflecting off the fine metallic thread that warned him of the trip wire, and Ryan called out just in time to prevent Martin from activating whatever alarm was attached to it.

They carried on towards the woods at a far slower pace, watching for signs of any more security devices.

Eventually they reached the cover of the underbrush, sliding between the barren branches of shrubs, their footfalls hushed by the carpet of damp leaves that had been shed from the trees high above them. It was cold outside, their bodies having become more used to the heat of the raging furnaces in the Factory, their ragged clothing affording them little protection against the bite of the freezing winter wind.

Two hours later they reached the far edge of the compound and sat down to ponder their next course of action. The wire fence was over nine feet high, its top coiled with razor-sharp barbed wire. Ryan picked up a small twig and threw it towards the fence, shielding his eyes as the fence sparked and crackled against the wet wood.

Electrified.

They looked at each other uneasily. They had come so far and now they may have no choice but to go back.

"Let's check along the perimeter... maybe there's a weak spot."

They found it almost twenty minutes later, a small burrow dug beneath the ground by some animal. Ryan ignored the stabbing pain of splinters of wood and stone digging under his fingernails as he dug deep, enlarging the hole, slowly pushing the earth back behind him as he wriggled and pushed his way along until he broke through the surface on the other side of the fence.

Ryan grinned back at Martin, beckoning him to follow and moments later they were running, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the Factory compound before it was too late.

They came to a road and dropped down into the ditch by the side of it, keeping out of sight of any potential travelers.

"The border's this way."

Martin pointed along the road and Ryan could only take his word for it as he had no idea where they were. Another two hours passed as they paralleled the road, keeping hidden in the scraggy tree line and dropping down onto their faces whenever they heard the sound of an approaching man or vehicle. Martin grabbed Ryan's arm and pulled him down when he spied the border post just a hundred yards ahead of them. Ryan could see another guard post maybe twenty yards beyond that, and he knew this was what they were aiming for.

"Over there is the Protectorate of Sacramento."

"What are we going to do? There's no way we can run that distance without getting shot."

As he spoke, Ryan nodded towards the automatic weapons held easily in the guard's hands.

"Normally, I would suggest waiting for nightfall, but the longer we leave it the more likely the Factory guards will learn of our escape and send out the alarm. These guards here might become even more vigilant."

Ryan looked along the length of the border as far as he could see. A smile curved his lips when he realized this was the only level place. It was a man-made bridge across a small ravine, the ground dropping away sharply to either side. He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully as looked at Martin. If he chose the spot carefully then there was a good chance that they could scale the ravine on both sides. Ryan knew it would be a relatively easy challenge for himself, having climbed much harder mountains in the past, but he was not certain whether Martin was skilled enough - or strong enough - to make the attempt, and there was no way he was going to leave this man behind.

"Come on."

He beckoned Martin with a sideways rock of his head and they slithered away, out of sight of the border post and its watchful guards.

It took another hour before Ryan found a place that he was certain they could both descend in relative safety. He was positive he had seen an animal trail leading part way up the far side, just a few hundred yards back so he decided that it had to be here or not at all. Time was surely running out for them.

Moments later Ryan had the tattered remnants of their t-shirts off both of their backs and had twisted and tied them together into some semblance of a rope. He eyed the makeshift rope and grimaced. It was nowhere near good enough, but it would have to do.

"Follow me down. I'll place your feet for you. You just concentrate on keeping your hands securely grasping something."

It was a painfully slow descent but Ryan had chosen this spot as there was a narrow ledge part way down that would afford them a small respite. Just beyond the ledge was a short drop but he was certain the makeshift rope would be sufficient to ease Martin down that. He would have to follow him down freehand but, for Ryan, that would not be a difficult descent.

Ryan grunted as he took all of Martin's weight, hoping the man was strong enough to keep a tight grip on the t-shirt rope as he was lowered down. Moments later the heavy weight lifted and Martin gave him a thumbs up sign. Ryan sighed in relief and lowered himself over the edge. Through years of experience, his fingers and toes instinctively sought out and found the small nicks and grooves in the rock face.

He collapsed down by Martin's side at the bottom of the ravine and then followed Martin's gaze back up the way they had come.

"Damn! Didn't think I'd get down here except by flying... and I wasn't looking forward to the landing."

Ryan grinned and slapped Martin on the back.

"Not over yet. We gotta scale the other side before we're safe." He saw the tired face crumble in realization that they had only made it half way - and the worst was yet to come. Ryan let them sit there for a while longer, catching their breath and preparing, mentally, for the far more arduous climb ahead.

They were halfway up the other side when a puff of dust billowed up just to the right of Ryan; the report of a gun echoing along the ravine a split second later. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw the border guard aiming towards him again.

"Shit!!"

Ryan realized they were sitting ducks. There was nowhere to hide and no way to run. They were stuck on the side of the ravine and the only directions open them were up or down - and Ryan had no intention of going back.

More puffs of dust lifted from the rock face, a chip spinning out and slicing across his cheek, drawing blood.

"Keep climbing!!"

He could hear Martin's labored breath behind him, his fear increasing as bullets impacted with the rock to either side of them. It was only a matter of time before a bullet struck one or both of them and they fell to their deaths.

Ryan looked up sharply as voices came from above him, a rope smacking into his face.

"Grab it!"

A moment of indecision flowed through him as his fingers closed around the hemp but he resisted the temptation to have himself pulled to safety first and lowered himself a few feet to where Martin was hanging on for dear life. With great difficulty, Ryan tied the rope around the waist of his exhausted friend.

"Pull!!"

He yelled up and watched as Martin was hauled up the last ten feet of the rock face, his heart in his mouth as bullets zinged ever closer. He gave a sigh of relief as he saw Martin pulled over the top, the rope dropping back moments later. Ignoring the pain in his bloodied and raw fingers, Ryan tied the rope around his own waist then tugged twice to indicate he was ready. He scrabbled with hands and feet against the rock face, using the small purchases to ease his assisted ascent. A tearing pain in his back sent his hands and feet slipping from the rock face and he heard the grunts of pain from the men up top as they took all of his weight, but he was still rising although no longer able to assist as the pain radiated like fire through his entire being.

As he was pulled over the top he saw Martin's bloodied hands gripping tightly around the rope, lending the last of his own meager strength to assist in hauling Ryan to safety. Martin dropped down beside him and, as the darkness closed in around him, Ryan could hear the urgency in a voice that had become so familiar to him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When he awoke Ryan discovered he was lying face down between clean sheets, the wan early winter sun feebly shining through the window. He groaned when his attempt to turn over sent a jagged pain tearing through him.

"Don't try to move just yet. You were shot. Just stay still while I contact the Prince Regent."

Ryan screwed his eyes shut and waited for the pain to ebb. It seemed as if only minutes passed before he heard Martin's familiar voice beside him, whispering into his darkness as he had done for so many weeks, but when Ryan opened his eyes he realized that the noon sun was long gone.

"Martin?"

"Hey, my friend."

"Where are we?"

"Safe... home, for me. Rest now. Grow strong."

Ryan found himself obeying the reassuring voice, falling back into an easy sleep.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

>A month later Ryan stopped at the border of the Protectorate of Sacramento, his eyes looking out towards the Sierra Nevada in the distance. His back still twinged with pain on occasion but he had been very lucky, the bullet having lost most of its velocity by the time it struck, causing only minimal damage.

He had spent the past month as the honored guest of Sacramento, a grateful people rewarding him for aiding in the rescue of their Prince Regent, Martin.

Ryan looked across at his newfound friend, already feeling a sense of loss.

"You are welcome to stay."

"I know... but my feet are itching to hit the road."

Ryan knew the journey ahead would be arduous. The country was so fractured - a mass of small Protectorates - and each had its own laws; some of those Protectorates, like Sacramento, were benign but far too many others were ruled with an iron fist.

Ryan's attention was called back, his eyes losing the faraway look for a moment as he gazed into his friend's kind, blue eyes. An attack had been made on the Protectorate of Oakland within days of Prince Martin's rescue, and it had been successful. The people of Oakland were no longer subjugated by their cruel laws, the chains that bound them had been severed, and the Factory was no more.

"Are you well provisioned?"

Ryan smiled gratefully and nodded his head. He moved into the warm embrace of his friend.

"You will always be welcome here, Ryan."

Ryan gave Martin one last slap on the back then moved away, climbing onto the seat of the small wagon. Ahead of him there would be no gas to power a car so horse and cart was the best method of travel.

"Where will you go?"

Gazing out beyond the border, Ryan shook his head. He was not certain where he was heading, and he had no idea of what he hoped to find when he got there but something seemed to be calling to him to move on, some deep resonance he felt deep within his bones.

He wondered, once more, if it was the tug of his counterpart in this dimension.

Despite many messages flowing from the Protectorate, there had been no positive sightings of this dimension's Ryan Simms but, somehow, Ryan knew his twin was out there, and some sixth sense told him that their fates were some how intertwined.

With a last nod, Ryan faced the road ahead and urged the two horses into motion. He gave one final glance and a wave before rounding a curve in the road, then he set his mind to the new challenges that lay ahead.

The End

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Feedback toTarlan

| Alex Annex | Characters | Stories/Alpha | Stories/Author | Home |