The Lucky 13 chapter one

A sudden thought crossed Tyler's mind as he followed the Major, "What about their other weapons? Language? Diet? Something common that could kill them if injested? You're not giving a mutt much to work with, dude. Perfect example: could we fake being a patrol in the darkness or extreme light to avoid getting jumped in the open? I know it works, I've done it before with a bunch of idiots trying to get into the open wild back on planet Frozen Hell. Didn't work for them, but the point remains."

That was weird. Tyler was talking fast and much, meaning that for some reason he was curious. Well, had to know something to end it, "Simple rundown: what other ways could we get around them without wasting all our ammo?"

Good news is that the bleeding seems to have stopped.” There was a brief pause in her words as Alistair heard the doctor reaching for the next instrument on the table. “The bad news is this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch when I have to open you up to stop the geyser of blood once that bullet is removed.”

Before Alistair had even registered the words he felt the familiar sensation of the syringe needle being thrust hurriedly into the tender flesh of the exposed wound squeezing the plunger. The pain that followed was sharp an intense causing him to jerk up suddenly. He had been foolish to think that he could deceive the doctor into believing such a scenario. The doctor was on to him. She was about to make him pay for his ignorance inserting the needle into a secondary placement within the wound repeating the process.

“You know even a local sedative like this would have done the trick. I don’t know what the two of you are up to but right now all I care about is getting this bullet out without having you die on my table from excessive blood loss because you squirmed and I nicked something I wasn’t suppose to. Things just got a lot more complicated here.


"Kendra! Give me a hand here!"
"Hold him down!"

Alistair did the best he could to remain compliant as the vindictive surgeon roughly stabbed the sharp object repeatedly in and out of the wound track. It seemed she was determined to teach him a lesson in pain and the reasoning behind putting a patient out during such an intrusive procedure as she administered the pain numbing drug. Given the intensity of the throbbing ache with each placement of the needle he was beginning to wonder if it was having any affect at all. All the while the frail physique of Kenny did her best to fulfill the task bestowed upon her. She responded by pressing her full weight across the heaving chest while using two arms to pin down a flailing limb the best she could.

“Is everything alright in here?” The guard queried poking his head through the door once again at the sudden rise in commotion.
Doc Bolivar responded by raising a single finger to her mask lips at the soldier’s question. “Quiet, please. Doctor is working," before returning to her patient.


"Now, you're gonna want to bite down real hard for the next part. There we go."
"This'll hurt a little."

Alistair managed to hold it together the best he could as Dr Bolivar skilfully cut an incision through the pale white skin. He bit down hard into the rolled cloth she had supplied him with countering the effect of the cut. He watched as the blunt probative instrument was inserted into the opening gently moving aside the soft intestines to give a better look flinching slightly as the metallic probe brushed up against the bullet. His instinctive nature was to flex and tighten bouncing the diminuative load perched across his chest in the process.



"There it is. See? Nothing to it."

“Nothing to it!” from her standpoint maybe but for Alistair it was probably the most intense pain he had felt apart from the initial gunshot itself. Alistair was no stranger to blood and idle curiosity compelled him to want to watch the doctor go about her business. With one hand she manoeuvred a clamp into place preparing for the immanent bleeding that was to occur when the obstruction was removed. The dominant hand embraced what looked to be a pair of enlarged tweezers, ready take hold of the lead projectile nestled in the soft folds of intestine.

“This is where it get’s tricky.”

It was as she had expected. Removing the blockage resulted in a cascade of blood flowing from an unforeseen nick below the bullet. “Sponge!” She yelled frantically searching for the bleeder as Kendra sopped up the flow. One absorbent pad after anther was issued brought to the area in an effort to regain visibility to the source. The doctor grabbed Alistair’s hands and placed them just above the pelvic bone.

"Keep your hands there and don't release pressure!"
"You're going to feel a little dizzy."
"Don't worry, you're fine."
"Listen! Listen to me!"

She snapped her fingers capturing his attention as she spoke. In her eyes he witnessed panic contrary to the soothing words she had just issued. Methodically she dug around the distressed region as her assistant continued to clear an area for the surgeon to work. The earnest diligence of the pair paid off as Bolivar successfully located the bleeder clamping it off and preventing further blood loss. Relief visibly washed over the two attending physicians as their bodies adjusted from the frantic search for rescue to a sense of serenity. The crisis was averted, their patient would live.

“Good work, Kendra,” the doctor complimented her partner. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Thank you” Alistair blurted weakly placing a blood covered hand upon Kenny’s.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. Grab a couple of units of A- and start him on an IV. I’ll finish up here.”

Alistair watched as Kenny responded to Bolivar’s request. There was no doubt in his mind she was wondering just how to process all the information had just been consumed. Many unforeseen variables had been put into play. The others were way behind schedule at the moment. If it was not for their misfortune it was now apparent he might very well have died after his departure. Fate had a funny way of working itself out in certain situations. His next concern was two-fold. Would the Tara simply turn the pair over to the Major after their little charade and if she didn’t would Kenny still carry through on the previous plan when the signal was given? All that would have to take care of itself, for the moment he was glad to be alive.

Dr Bolivar had just finished her final stitches and began wrapping the wound for support when Kenny returned with her supplies. The pair exchanged glances as the shunt was inserted into an ample vein in the back of his hand. Alistair gave the distraught girl a reassuring smile settling back to the table. Procedure complete the doctor began gathering her instruments as her assistant collected up the bio hazardous waste strewn about the operating room. Alistair witnessed the recognizable rattle of the bullet rolling around in the stainless pan as it was moved.

“ I’d like to keep that if you wouldn’t mind.” He inquired about the bullet wearily reaching out his hand. A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he plucked it out of the cold container held out in front of him. Holding the small lump up between his thumb and index finger towards the brilliant overhead lamp he admired the insignificant piece of metal. A smile soon followed the bright twinkle in his eyes as he finished his thought aloud.
“It will serve as a reminder… of friends past.. and present.”

"I don't have much to work with" said Rogers, turning around to face Tyler and clasping his hands behind his back, clenching the greatcoat, "And I have already explained about the language of the Tarnakians, you should have been paying attention rather then trying to get into Inali's pants. We can not speak to the aliens, simple as that. As for other weapons they might be shooting at us, well we've found carbine version of their battle rifle aboard captured spaceships, a few different pistol configurations, some full auto slug throwers and different bladed weapons. I wasn't givin much more about other weapons, other then some sarcastic paperpushing asshole's comment about them sticking to a single weapon design that works. I wasn't told anything about what they eat but theres not way we can pull off being one of their patrols. Too small, too slender, too damn good looking and thats saying something."

"Sergeant" he continued, looking at the Provost hovering behind the wild boy (and in doing so, he had left his post and allowed Inali to leave unnoticed), "Take him back to the hold. If he resists, shoot him. The prisoners are under lockdown until five hundred hours."

"Yes sir"

Robert turned again and strolled off down the corridor. His feet took him up several decks, until he reached the officer's quarters. His own cabin was nestled in the rear, as he did not have to stand watch nor did he have a battle station aboard ship (therefor he wouldn't need the shortest distance to run, should the ship come under attack). No one was around at this point in time, either eating a last (or first) meal of the day over in the officer's mess or finishing their watch, postponing the wishes of good luck from the higher ranking space squids.

The inside of the cabin was dark, as the door opened and only gained the dimmest lighting as the officer entered. Sure, it would have been easy to command more of the lights to come on but the heavy shadows suited the army officer. From somewhere, Beethoven's Wellington's Victory began to play. Off come the nice light green jacket with red trim, followed by the beret and tie, as each was thrown upon the bunk. The button up white shirt was pulled from the trousers and undone, hanging loosely off his frame. As he sat down on the single chair in the cabin, the polished black shoes were kicked from his feet and the toes wiggled in relief.

Rogers pulled the thin box of cigarillos from the pocket of the greatcoat and added the garment to the pile on the bunk. With a great sigh of relief, he stuck one end of the small cigar between his lips and lit the other with a small lighter. The first puff was like a tall glass of water to a man dying of thirst. It washed away all the stress and anger of the day, replacing it with a tranquil bliss, which lasted only a short time. About halfway through the burn time of the rolled drug stick, there came a loud knocking on the door. When he sighed, walked over and opened the thing, cigarillo still between his lips, he found an off duty Provost and of all people, Inali, waiting for him.

The jailer saluted, described what had brought him here and was dismissed quickly. It would seem that the ice ball whore's luck wasn't going so well. It seemed that she had slipped out at some point and gone for a walk, only she was heading in the opposite direction of where she wanted to go. Secondly, she had stopped in a corridor, right between a hold, were the forty Provosts were bunking (half of whom had accompanied the Major to the planet's surface) and the enlisted's mess. It would seem that one of them had been late joining his mates for the "evening's" meal, because a personal problem concerning the toilet and had found her leaning against a bulkhead. Rather then just escorting the inmate back to her new (if bigger and more crowded) cell, he had decided to take her right to the officer in charge, in the hopes of a reward.

"Inside Trouble" muttered Rogers, glancing at the back of the Provost, walking away a few credits richer.

Inali looked down at the floor for a moment and smiled a smile that was akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. Looking back up, her cheeky smile lowered if only slightly, she wiggled her fingers at the Provost who had brought her in and bid him a farewell in a sing songy voice. Inali was well aware that she could have very well just gotten herself into a mess of trouble, and that her track record wasn't exactly anything near good all things considered. However, she wasn't about to show it. If she looked guilty she'd probably come off as guilty. Besides, since when did guilt have to be found in caring about the well being of her friend? Well, disregarding the fact that she was the one who had shot him.

“Hello Major.” Inali greeted, walking past the older man. She was getting too used to the previous statement. It seemed that she was continuously running into him, more than he'd probably like her to, and more than she meant to. Her hand reached into her bra, and from the side where it was well concealed she pulled out her pack of cigarettes. It seemed that the room was smokey anyway, there was no reason that she couldn't join in, even if her brand of poison was a bit different.

The white stick between her mouth Inali took a moment to smell the air. The scent was familiar, and not I the sense that she'd been around when the Major was smoking before. Inali was slightly disappointed that she couldn't place a finger on the brand, but months in jail had made her forgetful. She could only remember the basics. Pulling her lighter from the pack of cigarettes Inali leaned against the wall, and then breathed out a smokey sigh.

“You know Major.” Inali began, brushing hair from her eyes. “If we keep meeting under these kinds of circumstances you're going to start thinking that I'm up to no good.” She then let out a small shrill 'hmph' of a laugh. “Oh wait, you already do.” Inali chewed on her lower lip for a moment, traced the scar on her pinky finger out of nervous habit, and then took a drag on her cigarette once more.

For the time being she'd given up on trying to weasel her way into the older man's pants. He was probably more concerned with why she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Granted, she'd never been told she wasn't allowed to deviate from the group. No, it had never been specifically stated. Or, perhaps it had and Inali simply hadn't been paying attention. Whatever the matter, any hope she had of getting sex probably wouldn't be fulfilled. No, she was most likely going to get informally interrogated, and Inali was trying to think of ways she could say a whole lot while saying very little at the same time. The music in the background didn't help the sense of dread she was feeling either, she'd dully noted, expelling the acrid smoke from her lungs.

The door hissed shut, cutting out the artificial light of the hallways, leaving only the dim glow of several panels in the corners. For several moments, long after the unexpected guest had walked in and finished talking, the officer just stood at his door, puffing away. Finally he turned around and walked over to his chair, dropping into it without a word. Taking his time, he stretched out and placed his feet up on a nearby desk, thin lines of heavy smoke, gently drifting out of his nostrils.

"Out for a walk I see" said Rogers finally, looking over at Inali, "You do know your still a convict right? Pardons aren't handed out until after the mission is complete. You need a pass to leave the hold but perhaps its my fault, for not laying out the ground rules before we boarded. In any case, I'll let this one slide. Where were you heading anyways? The Provost said he caught you by the mess but I know that your meal was delivered to you by the steward."

He sighed a little and took his feet off the desk. Sitting up straight, Robert pulled open one of the little drawers and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. Next came out a pair of short glasses and all were set upon the desk. He poured half a glass's worth into each of the drinking vessels and offered one wordlessly to the prison whore he had pulled out of an icy hell, as he tossed one back himself.

The drink was the Regina equivalent to Terran Moonshine, called Jungle Bite. Made illegal by the military governor generations ago, it is none the less a popular drink with the locals, mostly because of the one hundred eighty proof the spirits had. It is typically with the juice of the Aworo fruit by the so called "Ferals", or the descendants of of the original colonists that had fled to the planet for a simpler life and were later forced to give up control of the planet by the Federation of Man. It seemed that the three moons were loaded with ore and the Navy wanted to build a shipyard closed to a source of material, on the edge of human space. A bit of bad luck for the first colonists and they retreated into the jungles, as several new waves of immigrants landed and built up cities.

The length of time it took for the Major to do much of anything made Inali uncomfortable. It wasn't the silence, no, that she could deal with. It was the lack of movement; It made her antsy. While she didn't move she did begin to rub the scar on her pinky habitually. What the hell was the man going to do? What was he thinking about? Was he even thinking? Inali avoided looking at the man, and instead gave a distant stare to the wall adjacent to her, making sure her eyes didn't flicker towards the other figure.

When he finally did speak, she didn't have much to say as a response. There wasn't any yelling, no sour undertone or pulsing veins. The near indifference he regarded her with was almost as uncomfortable as the silence. Inali cocked her head to one side and listened, arms folded loosely near her stomach. Half listening as usual Inali's gray eyes inspected the cigarillo he'd been puffing on. Perhaps it was the drug that was making him so calm. When he stopped speaking she uncrossed her arms and took a puff on her cigarette, slightly longer than the other ones thus causing her chest to puff out slightly and releasing the smoke in small bursts.

“Well, you had other things to worry about.” Inali began in regards to his neglect to tell her she wasn't allowed to wander about while sitting on his desk. “You know, like stopping two inmates from murdering one another, and guns, and mission briefing.” The statement was flippant, and the hand which held the cigarette made circular motions at the wrist when she spoke, causing odd spirals of smoke to disperse into the air.

Inali picked up the glass between her index finger and her thumb. She regarded the drink with a cautious air, not because she was paranoid of being poisoned or something of that respect. Rather, she wanted to catch it's scent so she could tell just how potent it was. Just inches from her face she could smell the stench, and thus could guess that it was rather strong. While she was a bit of a druggie at times, and notorious for partying, Inali wasn't a drinker. She was a light weight, and it wasn't much of a surprise. Inali sipped the liquid, and just as she could have guessed it tasted like cat piss and went down like battery acid. Though, she couldn't say she was bothered. One didn't drink alcohol because it tasted good, you drank it to get drunk.

Always good at putting up a front Inali managed to not make a face or even flinch at the abrasive drink. She remained composed, and placed the drink down, using her arm to prop herself up on the desk. The room was silent again, and while the silence was foreign to her, it was starting to become less unnerving. Inali couldn't remember a time in the past decade where she was ever in real silence. Having been a city girl there was always the sound of traffic and the mindless chatter of people to keep her company. Save for the sounds of cars, prison was no different.

“I was going to see Alistair.” Inali said abruptly, as if he'd just asked the question a second ago as opposed to a minute or two. For a moment she wondered if this was the a bad answer, and thus took up the glass of Jungle Bite and took another healthy swig. “I know I was the one who shot him but. . . . “ She paused and started up at the ceiling. “But, well, I haven't got much of an explaination for why I want to make sure he was all right. No real rhyme or reason. Just. . . “ She shrugged, setting the glass down. “Just figured I should.”

After the statement Inali took the liberty of looking over the Major. Nonsense thoughts crossed her mind, unimportant musings that she would probably never figure out even if she bothered to. She wondered why the Major would stay holed up in his cabin, and not bother to be with the rest of the crew, did he not like any of them? She wondered if, perhaps, he was just fed up with the whole situation, given how terribly the day had gone. And she also wondered if this was a proper time to make a pass at him. Common sense said to ease in slowly, the liquor that had begun to take effect told her to just go for it. Even if she was turned down, she'd take it in stride. She had other conquests anyway.

“Well, this is convenient.” Inali began, her voice obviously amused, though perhaps less than she was in actuality. “Here we are, alone.” She motioned to the drinks. “With alcohol. I couldn't have set this situation up better if I tried.” Her shoulder moved up and down due to a laugh she kept in rather than vocalizing. The ball was in the Major's court now, and Inali had come to terms with the idea of not getting lucky for perhaps a day or two. She was just hoping that whatever the response, it would amuse her. The dull tone of the air was driving her mad.

Bladed weapons, bladed weapons...bladed...weapons...swords, impact weapons. Hand to hand combat. Extreme closeness to the target or adversary. That, if they had it at all, meant some form of honor. That meant one thing: they could be worked into a one on one fight. Hell, maybe Tyler could even work them into a line if he was good enough.

He held off on the thinking until he was in his chosen cell, but made a point of showing both middle fingers as the Sergeant dragged him away, "I wasn't here for that whole talk, asshole. You shot me in the back, remember that, coward?"

When he did get to his cell, Tyler immediately turned the bed on its side and hung from it by his legs, then started doing fast situps. Because he was both light and relatively strong, it took at least a hundred to make any difference. While he did that, Tyler thought.

Carbines meant range, though only short precision distance. If they stuck to their rifles, it could mean that only a select few were meant to have more accurate weapons. As for the pistols, they could mean a simple rank difference, like how the Major had an energy gun while his soldiers used projectile weapons. Tyler smoldered about that. Only the most arrogant bastard on the ship would use a laser weapons while his troops suffered. Tyler didn't even think the captain had a better weapon than the normal troops. As much as that pissed him off, Tyler went back to his planning.

The different forms of blades could represent anything from power to spiritual rank. No matter what it meant, the better the blade, the harder the target. Tyler made a mental note to keep track of which Tarnakians had which pistols and which impact weapons if they carried any.

Now for the looting factor: bigger general rifle caliber meant bigger general pistol punch. If those could be salvaged and used...oh yeah, Tyler thought, smiling evily, this is going to be one hell of a show.

Rogers started to chuckle as he poured himself another drink. She was right of course. Inali had somehow managed to get inside his cabin without the others knowing where she was. He had provided the booze and was in a start of semi-dress (not that he was undressed, not while still wearing his pants, undershirt, the button up shirt hanging off him but he was in a start that he would never allow the inmates to see him in). Hell, now all they needed was a different soundtrack and this might be the plot for some porno. Damn it all, he had seen a few that a plot (if you want to all the loose writing in a porn a plot), like this a few times.

"He is a companion" the Major said, after his second glass, "Even if your the one that shot him, you want him to be around, as a comfort. I knew a private, back home, who hated his sergeant with a passion. One time, we got sent out to chase down some Feral bandits. This pair got separated from the rest of the platoon and spent nearly a week in the jungle alone. When we found them, the private was holding the sergeant and crying that he was sorry. From what we got out of them, the sergeant had gone off in the night to take a piss and while he was gone, the kid woke up, hear the noise and started shooting. It was the shooting that brought us to them."

"Anyways" he continued, looking farway, through the bulkhead, "The medic we had with us, was able to stabilize the sergeant and get him back to the base. The kid was depressed and moody until he was released from the hospital. Ran up and hugged the sergeant when he returned to the barracks. The next day, he was plotting to kill the sergeant for making him run extra laps. People work in funny ways to get things back to normal. Would you say that normal for you, was having Alistair around as a constant, reality holding thing?"

In an almost child like manner Inali's attention locked into the Major as he told his story. The stories of others always intrigued Inali. People were so interesting when they wanted to be. Well, a good deal of them. Normal people had a tendency to be garishly mundane, but someone like the Major was bound to have hundreds of little tales he could reiterate to her. Perhaps she enjoyed stories told by others because they were often times funny or exciting. Perhaps it was because it gave her some insight into her past. Either way, it fed her curiosity.

Finishing the last of her drink Inali mulled the Major's question over. She could feel her body flush from the alcohol, and wondered if it showed. She wasn't sure if it was even permitted for her to get drunk while she was still technically a prisoner. Even if she'd gotten caught, she wouldn't indulge her persecutors with the fact that the Major had helped contribute. No, she'd probably just lie and say she'd stolen it. It would probably cause less trouble anyway.

“Well, I think we all need that don't we?” Inali asked, tapping her knee with her finger. “Prison is so different from the real world. I bet it's almost the same thing here on this ship, or off wherever you may be when you aren't traveling around in this heap of metal.” She paused, wondered if she should have a second glass, shook off the idea, and continued again. “I don't think I could bear being completely alone. Alistair was my tether.” There was a yet another pause. “Do you have one Major?”

"This is going to sound really lame" said Rogers, the cocktail of intoxicants he was taking in starting to go to work, "But my tether is my mother. I wrote to her every week and called once a month, ever since I enlisted, thirty years ago. She still bugs me about grandkids, even though my sister has a big brood. You'd think she'd be happy with one of her kids giving her a bunch of brats to ruin the good tablecloths."

He started to laugh, the first lasting smile to be born on his lips in days in days appearing.

"I've still be writing" the officer contnued, "Even though I can't send anything to her. The last time I talked with her, all I could say was that I was getting a new assignment and that I was going to be missing for a while. I have to keep this from my own mother and I'd be up for a flogging is anyone from general staff read the stuff I've been writing down. The firing squad is a bit more likely or even a combination of both.”

A giggle bubbled up from Inali's throat and managed to escape past her lips before she could catch it. The initial shock that she wasn't able to hold it in made her cover her mouth for a moment, her eyes squinting into an embarrassed smile.

“And here I thought you'd just hatched from an egg somewhere.” She sighed, shaking her head slightly. She studied the smile on the Major's lips for a minute, almost perplexed. His face looked foreign when he smiled, like she was looking at someone who wasn't the Major. Maybe that was his Roger Roberts face. Or was it Robert Rogers? Inali furrowed her brow unintentionally for a moment, trying to figure it out. “Haven't spoken to my mother since I was sent to prison. She said she'd try to convince her husband to make bail. I'm guessing it didn't work. Don't resent her for it though. It was the thought that counts.”

“You're a bit too old for kids though.” Inali noted bluntly, her attention being brought back to a previous statement made by the Major. “You don't strike me as the married type anyway. Some people aren't made for it. I was married three times!” She wiggled three fingers up in the air while holding a fake sense of being proud. After the second marriage Inali should have realized she should quit while she was a head. Marrying the same gender didn't make things any different.

"Hey" protested Rogers, "I can still have kids, if I wanted. Its not like I'll run out of little swimmers any time soon but I will agree about getting married. I don't think I will, nor do I see myself happy in a situation like that. Can't really bellow orders at a wife or husband for that matter. They'd just up and leave and take half my pay for some long period of time. Nah, I'll just leave all my money for my nieces and nephews. Hopefully they've head to college, instead of joining up. Oh course, some might life a life of service or be good at it. Hopefully I'll get to see them again."

The smile faded away from his lips, as his mind's eye drifted from the remembered faces of his family. Happy smiles and high-pitched laughter. Thats why he was here, leading a band of convicts on a suicide mission. He would protect the Federation, to protect them from harm. They had to defeat the Tarnakians or every human world would burn to gray ash, to cover the bones of their race.

Robert poured a third glass of Jungle Bite and tossed it back.

“Hmm.” Was the only sound that came out of Inali as she boldly reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass. At the rate the Major was going he might catch up to her, and she didn't want to feel left out. Shortly after pouring herself another glass of liquid that was sure to burn the skin off her esophagus she took one last drag on her cigarette before putting it out on her thumb nail.

“Just because you can produce sperm doesn't mean it's good sperm.” Inali jeered before taking a sip of her drink. His mention of his family made Inali think of the Verconas for a moment. They were a loud rowdy batch of people. While dressed in designer clothes and holding lavish and expensive dinners it was rare for a family gathering to go without a hitch, and there was always at least one fist fight. But, the nostalgia made Inali feel awkward, and the reminiscing quickly stopped. She didn't see much of a point in getting all misty eyed over people she may very well never see again.

“I'd hate to be pessimistic, but I'm going to. I doubt I'm seeing my family in this lifetime, even if I make it.” She added this more or less to not have the Major think she didn't have faith in the mission. No need to bring the man down. “You know, that's why you have to go out and Carpe some Diem or however that saying goes.” A smirk pulled at the corner of her lips again, the same mischievous one she wore when she walked in. “I could think of a few things I'd like to seize right now.”

"You've never met an old Rogers then" declared Robert, "Both my dad and granddad were producing grade A sperm up till the day they died. In fact I have an uncle who is only a little older then I am. Gran wasn't pleased when she found out but he's invited to family gathers anyways. Can't help that a nurse tried a dirty trick to get some of granddad's money, you know?"

The Major pulled himself upright in the chair, wishing slightly that he was still in uniform, so that he might preen like a peacock. She had made a dig at his manhood and now he needed to defend it. Sure, he might be thinking as straight as he should have but the idea of getting up, tossing Inali on the bunk and showing her just how good his sperm was, sounded pretty damn good. So he stood up, swept the remnants of his uniform from the bunk, plucked the drink from her hand and gently tossed the small women on the reasonably comfortable mattress.

"Besides" he continued, leaning over her, 'We sons of Regina can take on any young stud, even in advancing age, thrash him good and show his girlfriend a better them then she's ever had with him."

The rest of her words finally got through the automatic manly defenses and stewed around for a few seconds. What on Terra could she want to seize right now? His throat or maybe his pistol? She had proven to be a thief, could hid weapons on her person, gunned down her friend and carried some items in her bra. She might just have a blade there. Maybe this was all a plot to see him dead.....

"What do you want to seize" he asked slowly, looking her over slowly. He was searching her body for tensing muscles or another sign that the whore was about to make a murderous pounce.

The Major's sudden defensiveness both threw her off and excited her. A small gasp of exhilaration came out in a sharp breath as she was tossed onto the bunk. A part of her was a bit disappointed that her drink was going to go to waste. Another part was near ecstatic that was getting what she wanted. She'd finally be able to get it out of her system, and it only took a day. Which was more than good for Inali. She wasn't patient when it came to men.

However, his lack of action proved to be discomforting as it was when she first walked into the room, and she looked up into his eyes. For a moment she flinched mentally, she abhorred eye contact in such situations, it humanized the people she was with too much. She didn't need them to be humanized, it would just make things more difficult. Still, the initial shock of the contact faded and her hands went to the knot just under her cleavage that was her jacket.

"You look stressed Major." She stated, shrugging off the article of clothing. "I can help with that."


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Hours later, around one hundred hours ship time (which was a several hours ahead of Jukau Gamma), the Van Hoffs slipped out of the offer’s quarters they had commandeered. Being quiet, they padded down the little hallway between the different rooms (the smashed up one had been mostly abandoned, save for the little wild freak). Behind them came Nora, Collin and Theo, the trio that had attempted to take over the transport. Normally they would never willing get together but tonight, there was a plan. They would all get free and not have to risk their necks on some suicide mission.

The trio went to the hatchway, pounding on it, while holding the big black man between them, as he pretended being in pain. The brothers took up positions on either side of the hatch. When the two Provosts on guard answered the seemingly frantic pounding, the brothers struck, grabbing each man’s shotgun and proceeded to brain them against the hatchway. As they finished, the greasy sneak appeared.

The Van Hoffs held onto the shotguns, passing the two Mark VII Pulselasers to Gril and Collin. The limp bodies of the Provosts were dragged into the bathroom and hidden away in one of the stalls. The six of them then raced over to the open hatchway and looked around in the dirty metal corridors.

“Quick” snarled Otto, “Up to the bridge.”

“I’ll met you there” hissed Gril, gripping a bag loaded with homemade explosives.

The brothers and the trio went left, looking for a stair well or lift and the sneak headed for the faint sounds of machinery, leaving their fellows in the hold.

(twin posts are most annoying -_-)

Well, it wasn’t the most appetizing food in the world, but Charlie would have to take it. It was different, but still beat prison food. She picked up one of the tart apples, and despite the odd almost grapefruit type taste, wasn’t too bad. She watched as Inali slipped out of their quarters with a quirked eyebrow, but made no comment. She simply hoped she wasn’t going to do anything to get herself in more trouble. From there she finished her meal in the corner, having no desire to converse with any of the other inmates…except maybe Gril. From what she’d heard, the little grease ball had a talent for digging up dirt, and at the moment she needed a lot of it on a certain business tycoon, whose life she intended to destroy.

Her thoughts where interrupted by a provost, who delivered the fresh set of clothes she’d requested earlier. He left with a wordless smirk that made her a little uneasy, but didn’t dampen her spirits about wearing clothes that weren’t rags, and not been washed in what felt like years. A shower too, with shampoo and (could it be!) the possibility of hot water was in her immediate future. She headed towards the bathrooms with a spring in her step and a genuine smile on her face. A tomboy she might be, but Charlie was still a woman.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie was right to have been wary of the provost. The major had told her she’d likely be getting an old shrunken uniform of sorts, and had been perfectly content with that assumption. What she wore now, she would never mistake as having ever been worn by a man. The tight black hypoelasic (a type of modern fabric made to look like leather, but was extremely stretchy, durable, and worked in most stores as the fit-all size) pants she wore were of a very feminine cut, as was her low cut, v neck, short sleeved black shirt. She didn’t even want to know how they’d found female clothes on the ship, but despite the annoyingly obvious ploy for easy looking access down her cleavage, she was grateful for the clean clothes.

At the moment, Charlie was sitting on bunk with a pad of paper and a pen she’d acquired, trying to find something to write to her brother. What did one write to an angry seventeen year old to convince him to try to harm the man who’d killed the majority of his family? Lord knew she didn’t know. She’d even attempted to put herself in her brother’s shoes, but found she’d likely have simply ignored what she didn’t want to hear. Could she expect him to do any differently? She was on the verge of giving up for the night, when she heard hushed whispers and moaning coming from the hallway outside her door. She walled to her door, and cracked it open slightly to peer outside. The violence that followed, as well as the mass exit of the other inmates she watched with narrowed, catlike, green eyes. What were these idiots doing!? Were they trying to ruin everything?! No, she wouldn’t have it! She was not going back to Jukau Gama, because these idiots were mayhem happy!

Once the others had run out of sight, Charlie flung open the door, and dashed out of their quarters, though not in search of any exit, but the Major. She needed to find him and his pulse guns to fix this quickly, before this had any permanent repercussions on her plans and bid for freedom. It was only by luck she’d headed in the right direction, as she had no idea where the Major’s cabin was, and could only guess that it was going to be much bigger and nicer than her own accommodations. Charlie had tried a few doors to find either no one inside, or some kind of storage unit, but the last door she came upon was finally his.

She opened it hurriedly without knocking, as was confronted with aftermath of the Major and Inali’s little sleepover. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Charlie flipped on the lights, and called out a bit more irritable than she’d intended as she entered the room. “Hate to disturb your beauty sleep boss, but you and your big guns need to get out here now!”

Inali disliked any sort of interaction after sex(Unless, of course, it was more sex). Thus, her immediate reaction was to roll over and fall asleep. Even if she wanted to go back to the barracks, she would probably get caught. That would simply put her into even deeper trouble, and unless she could think of a damn good lie on the spot, the Major would probably get pulled into it too. So, staying in his room just seemed to be the better idea. Almost immediatly upon rolling over, the inmate had fallen into slumber

Of course, no matter where she was sleeping she couldn't escape her odd dreams. In most cases, her dreams were similar. Though, that was a given seeing as she'd been living a rather repetitive life in prision. This dream, however, was drastically different.

”So the military, huh?” Her mother asked, sipping on what she could only assume to be tea. Dream Inai found this situation acceptable despite the fact that her mother was planets away, and nodded, avoiding her mother's eyes. Her mother, Ranya, looked the same as she had the last time she had seen her. Her curly reddish brown hair was pulled into an up-do, a few stray curls framed her face, and her striking light brown eyes regarded Inali with a gaze that was both cautious, understanding, and pitying. “Just like your father.” Her mother noted, a slightly hurt undertone in her voice. She shook her head and smiled before the scenery of her mother's patio faded into nothing. Rather dazed, Inali stood there for a moment and attempted to gather what had happened.

“Hey!” A shrill younger voice called from behind her. Inali whipped around fast, only to find herself being stared up at by a young version of her. The girl, perhaps seven, had long spiral like curls that were an intense shade of black due to having never been touched by a dye or relaxant. Her smile showed that her left bicuspid was missing and she was sported an orange dress. “Do you want to play hide and seek?” The child asked, rocking back and forth on her sandal covered feet.

“I'd rather not.” Inali began in an almost apologetic tone. “I've got something I have to do.” This seemed to anger the child version of her, seeing as it furrowed its brow and scowled.

“You adults are so selfish!” It whined in protest stomping it's foot hard on the ground below it, and without aword trudged away into the vast expanse of the blackness which surrounded them both.

It was with while watching herself walk away from herself that Inali woke up.

The room was quiet again, and this time there was no music to generate some white noise. The song had stopped long ago, and wasn't about to start up again. Upon opening her eyes Inali had found herself facing the Major, and that same mixture of regret and satisfaction passed through her much like every other time she had sex. It was, as she had been told by her brother in law, an addict's guilt. At the time Inali had laughed and insisted she could stop whenever she wanted. It was in prison the woman realized that this wasn't true.

The Major was asleep, or at least very good at pretending to be sleeping. Even in his sleep, he didn't look all that peaceful. Actually, he looked a tad intimidating, like a bear in hibernation or something of the sort. Inali ran a hand through her hair and licked her lips, an odd after sleep taste left in her mouth. If she wanted to, she could probably kill the man in his sleep.

She wondered if he was aware of this. However, Inali wasn't that bad of a person, she hadn't any intention nor desire to murder Rogers. Careful not to make any noise the inmate sat up, pulling her knees up and placing her arms on them. She wasn't quite so sleepy anymore as the thought of Alistair sprang up into her mind for not the first and most certainly not the last time. Her hand went to the scar on her shoulder, a remnant of the wound she'd sustained from the giant. He had tried to take a bite out of her once, and she just recently shot him. Somehow, she felt this was an equal trade. It was in the midst of tracing the patterns on the scar that the door burst open to reveal Charlie.

“Hey there Charile.” Inali greeted in a nonchalant manner, a half hearted smirk on her face and a distant look in her eyes. It was clear she hadn't been pulled from her semi-conscious state just yet. “What's going on this time?” She muttered, realizing that she'd probably have to put on clothes. With a sigh Inali reached for her bra and pants. They'd be all she would need at the moment anyway, she could retrieve her jacket and underwear later when there wasn't another inmate bursting through the door with an urgent tone in her voice.

Rogers smiled slightly as he fell asleep (only a minute or three behind his bedmate), feeling a little relieved. It would have been awkward to either cuddle or make small talk with the convict. Besides, it was a very good chance that she (along with everyone else) would get killed on this mission, so it was better to not get attached. Although, it would be nice to have a warm body snuggled up to him again. It had been a good number of years since his partner either didn't have to get back home before their husband would miss them (well alright, there were a few nights), sneak back into the barracks or needed to run home to make curfew (back when he was a still a student). He almost wrapped an arm around her waist but sleep stole over him before the message got to his muscles.

Whatever he dreamed about, the Major couldn't remember. He rarely could. He had learned that it was been to get to sleep quickly and sleep deeply as possible in the military. In that deep slumber, anything that his mind worked up, was buried deep in his subconscious. Tonight, if he could have seen his own face, he might have hazard to guess it was something about eating a very sour lemon with a side dish of rusty nails. A flavorful dish know to only to those of the most expensive tastes.

As the lights came on, he woke up (not fully, his brain was still starting up but muscle memory reflexes were on) and rolled outta bed and landed on the floor in a defensive crouch. Luckily, the room was of a comfortable temperature and he wasn't wrapped up in blankets or such a feat would have landed him in a tangled lump on the deck. A few seconds later, a very naked Robert stood up and stretched, several of his joints popping loudly, as the message Charlotte brought him was processed.

"Whats going on" the army officer said, picked up the glass of Jungle Bit he had taken from Inali before her skilled stress treatment and tossing the crude spirit back to wash the morning taste from his mouth. As he waited for the answer, Rogers dressed quickly in a pair of black boxers, matching socks, an olive green T-shirt and a pair jungle pattern camouflage pants. He then shoved his feet into combat boots, strapped his Mark IX pulselaser around his waist and began shoving things into the many pockets that covered his pants. He had always been the first one ready to go, when the drill sergeants got them up in the middle of the night, back in boot.

Suddenly, Klaxons started to blare.

Tyler's eyes shot open and he rolled, then rolled back. He'd been sleeping under the bed in full dress already. Simple arctic combat pants and boots, black muscle shirt that barely stretched across his tight but powerful chest. He'd found some leather belts and a knife and fashioned a couple necklaces and more than a few wristbands. Along with that, he'd made a tie for his newly trimmed hair. Now he was back to the 'bad boy' image he'd had before prison. Even though it'd only been when he was ten, he'd never been the kind to go mainstream with style.

Aside from those, he'd made a headband to make sure sweat didn't mess with his aim, should sniping be an issue.

But now to move on. Tyler heard the klaxons and rose fast from under the bed. He shot straight down the row to the Major's room, then barreled in without caring about what it looked like, "What's going on man? When I hear alarms it usually means somethin bad..."

Charlie looked discreetly away as her naked boss and co-worker of sorts dressed themselves from their obvious booty call. She didn’t know why the idea of the Major and Inali being bed buddies bothered her, she held no feeling for the Major other than reluctant dependence (and amusement when she could get under his skin) and certainly not Inali as she didn’t swing that way so to speak. But none the less it left a decidedly foul taste in her mouth. Charlie pursed her lips and eyes hardened in the way they always did when she tried to keep from vocalizing her displeasure, but once the major and Inali had finished dressing, she turned back to them.

“The rest of our little motley crew busted out. And due to the fact most of them don’t get along, were working together, and knocking provosts out cold on the way out, tells me they didn’t go out for a midnight stroll.” She explained dryly, just as Tyler, their resident wild boy came barreling in. Then she heard the alarm go off. “Shit.” She muttered crossly under her breath. “I’m thinking those fancy guns of yours would be a good idea right about now.”

It was strange how things came about. Looking at all the different criminals brought together on this mission, Kenny would have never thought she'd end up being a pair with the giant on the table before her. While there was no possible way that she was going to go on some suicide mission for the military, she never expected someone else to approach her.

She touched the pocket with the sedative filled needle. It wasn't the only thing she had pocketed. No, in fact, while she went to get some things for the doctor. Just a couple bottles of different drugs, not to mention of few empty needles. There was a scalpel as well. Maybe she should have been a girl scout when she was younger. Being prepared was always on her mind.

To be honest all the blood excited her. The last time she'd seen so much is back on that horrible ice rock. Her last victim and even then it hadn't exactly quenched her need for the combination of gore and science. This though was quite a good opportunity, but Kenny rather liked to think long term. Instead of having the pleasure of, for the first time, dissecting a cannibal, she'd rely on him to help get them out. When the time came when being friends no longer benefitted her there was about a 90% chance that she'd willingly go for the kill. It would be an amazing opportunity to possible make a great stride towards immortality.

Just as Tara finished Alistair placed his hand on Kendra’s. That had been the second time that he did that. It was unnecessary touch in Kendra's opinion but she was very good at playing nice and quickly pulling away would have been rude. With that wonderful smile that all doctors seem to possess, the young biologist gave his hand a slight pat and then moved away to clean up.

Alistair's blood was still warm. It felt wonderful against her skin. She had been told she was a sadist, the courts had made it seem like a bad things. Alas, now wasn't the best time to indulge and so after washing the last traces of the crimson liquid off of her skin she went off to obtain the supplies that Bolivar wanted.

After getting the IV she watched as Tara finished off with the stitches. The young woman hated stitches. There was just something gross about sewing into someone’s skin. Kenny smiled and shook her head. She just found it so laughable how she, someone who could dissect and torture a live human being, couldn’t stand to see stitches being taken care of.

“I’d like to keep that if you wouldn’t mind. It will serve as a reminder… of friends past..and present.” Such a strange request the large man had. Though, in a way, she could see the reasons as to why he would want to keep it. Besides it could end up coming in handy, not that it could be fired.

Seeing as how her duties were basically over with and Doctor Bolivar had gone off to speak with the Provost guards, Kendra sat by Alistair for a moment. It was interesting to think that something as small as a bullet would be able be able to take down a man as large as Alistair. Seeing as how the opportunity to take out the good doctor hadn't arisen Kendra retrieved the sedative filled needle. She'd by her time for now and so with another look at the hulking man she moved herself to one of the empty beds in the infirmary. Sleep was fairly appealing at the moment, so she folding up her coat and placing it beneath of the flimsy pillow on the bed was her first concern before slumber could over take her.

Getting her pants on wasn’t difficult at all. Conversely, Inali fiddled with her bra several times until it managed to snap into place. There, that, in principle counted as being dressed. Well, in her book anyway, to hell with other people’s definition of a “real outfit”. Besides, it would be no shock that she was dressed that way. She was the token whore anyway.

Inali managed to catch the look of displeasure on Charlotte’s face. She let out sigh and mentally rolled her eyes. Just perfect, she thought as a small frown tugged at her lips , damn kid has probably got a thing for the Major. She snorted and cracked her back. The last thing she needed was some chick giving her the stink eye. It was wholly and utterly not worth the trouble. This was reason number one behind why she hated emotions. They were so tastelessly unattractive, and they caused trouble. She hated emotions and they way they made her feel, and thus kept her emotive range at a very low rate. (These emotions being, midly ticked off, slightly upset, kind of happy, and generally neutral.)

The Klaxons went off, causing Inali to let out a very displeased sigh. Of course shit was going to hit the fan. Why wouldn’t it? In fact, what part of the day had gone right to begin with? Well, aside from her hookup with the Major and being lifted off the Jakau Gamma nothing good had come of that day. So far she’d shot her best friend, been scheduled for some intense punishment of the whipping variety, realized she was being sent to suicide, had a fair amount of the other inmates she was working with taking an instant distaste to her, and now there was a mutiny.

Damn it all, at least she’d spent a good deal of time having “fun”.

“So, is this the part where I walk in the other direction and pretend I was never here because I can in no way help due in part to the fact that you probably don’t trust me with a weapon?” Inali began, running her hands through the knots in her hair to give the illusion of being tidy. “Or do you want me to help?”

A 'slasher smile' tugged at Tyler's lips when Inali mentioned weapons, "That's a good idea, Major. Give us some guns, let us show you what we can do. Hell, give me a shotgun and a fireteam, I'll hunt their asses down within ten minutes or your money back."

Tyler couldn't help it, he cracked his knuckles against his hand, letting off machinegun pops as the joints limbered up. Then he did the shoulders, neck, even legs. He couldn't help it at all. Tyler f**king loved to fight.

The peaceful recline of the wounded giant came to an abrupt end as the ship’s klaxons began to blare. While his exterior disposition was that of serene tranquillity his mind had been bustling with activity. This was the message from the others that Alistair had been patiently waiting to receive since his admission into the infirmary. The alarm could mean only one thing; the assault of the bridge of the HSM Triumph had begun. Now that that aspect of their plan was underway he could begin to institute his portion of the plans.

With his eyes closed he had been able to keep track of where the other two occupants of the room were stationed using scent and sound. Now, with the roaring of the alarms he sprang upright visually taking note of his conclusions and the response of the guards to the alert. It had been as he suspected, the pairing split duties with one staying put over the room containing prisoner as the other investigated the cause of the signal. Alistair was in no condition at the moment to take on even one provost. It was time to enter the game with the hand he had been dealt.

Reaching across he wrapped his large fingers around the plastic tubing and with a short tug pulled the narrow needle from the vein in the adjacent hand. He winced in pain with the sensation of the rapid withdrawal of the instrument and the pull of the surgical tape on the tiny hairs upon the back of his wrist. In one fluid motion he slid his feet of the bed positioning himself behind the bewildered doctor. The tall IV cart crashed to the floor, a result of the rubbery tubing pulled taunt as Alistair raised sharp IV needle positioning it near her ear.

The other hand griped firmly around the frail neck of his victim pulling her close against his chest. A sudden surge of euphoria rushed over him as he once again took in the sweet scent that had captivated his attention before they left planet side. The burst of excitement seemed to strengthen his weary muscles giving the sadistic madman stability in his abduction. A wide toothy grin revealed the carefully filed points of the tools of his trade as he leaned in nestling his nose in the soft flesh exposed by the tight ponytail.

He spent a moment savouring the endorphins of his unwilling guest released from the rough man handling and the close proximity of her assailant before he spoke “Scream for me.” He mused playing upon Tara’s whimpering terror. “I want to them to know who’s in control. Alistair could already feel the warm liquid of her tears rolling down the hand positioned across her throat. Her small tense frame radiated a warm heat against his chest as it shook in fear. “Don’t worry my dear; you are not to die yet. I have plans for you.”

All the while Alistair kept his eye on the other two players at the table. The assisting convict was sure to be disturbed by the sudden personality switch of the giant. He had position and he could only hope that she would continue to keep her chips in the game and fulfill her role in all of this. After all, the pot was as much hers as it was his. He had presented her with a way out of this mess and without him she would have to find another gambit.

Mutiny.

Rogers hands clenched and unclenched several times. He had given those scum a chance to redeem themselves. They could have just sat in the hold, trained themselves to combat, done humanity a favor and gone free, all their crimes erased. But no, they were trying something. What could they gain? An old, beat up destroyer that the Navy could sink without a second thought? Freedom, short lived and ending bitterly? The government would never consider bargaining with them, should they take servicemen hostage and it wasn't like they could pass this old warrior off as a civilian vessel. Maybe they could crash land on a planet somewhere and hide for the rest of their lives but there was little hope with that. These dogs would ended up killing each other. Well, they would die tonight, he would see to that.

"Well" he said suddenly, glancing over at Inali, considering her idea, "I could risk the lives of the Provosts and the sailors or I could have you lot lead the charge."

Suddenly the comm unit by the door start to chime. The army officer cleared the space from his bunk to the wall with several long strides and pushed one of the blowing spots on the device's touch pad. There was a deeper chime and the screen changed from a touch pad to a direct feed from another comm unit. A haggard looking Captain Titov's face took up a majority of the screen.

"Major" the old navyman growled, "Half a dozen of those freaks you brought aboard are running wild about my ship. About five of them got into one of the armories and stormed the bridge. I also have reports of someone shooting up engineering and another of a crazy woman in several parts of the ship, killing people."

"Damia" groaned Robert.

"Yes yes" said Titov, "Almost the entire engineering section is looking for the intruder down there and the Provosts have split up, several of them with my Armsmen are waiting near the bridge and the rest are looking for the woman. I want my ship back under control."

"Alright Captain" said the Major, "I'll take care of this."

"You better"

"Okay" said Rogers, turning to face all of his convicts as the screen blanked, "We're heading for the armory a level below us and then we're splitting up. Charlotte and Inali, your coming with me, we're going to retake the bridge. Tyler, your going looking for Damia. Stop her at any cost and try not getting shot by the Provosts."

Without waiting to see if the others understand the plan or have questions, he stormed out the cabin, long strides covering the corridors and hatchways swiftly, until he reached the armory. Now, the word armory brings to mind a building or at least a very large room filled with guns and ammunition. However, this is not the case aboard Federation Military Vessels. Armories are about the size of a closet and were place about the ship, so that sailors could arm themselves in case they got boarded. Each one typically contained ten shotguns, four hundred shells, five handguns and either twenty five clips or ten powercells depending in the age of the vessel.

Robert didn't need to take a sidearm (which turned out to be eleven millimeter pistols) but grabbed a shotgun, loading nine shells into a magazine and one in the chamber. While the ship was old, at least her small arms weren't too far behind the rest of the fleet. The design of the combat shotgun hadn't changed much. One could have mistaken the weapons for the Benelli M4 Super 90 (with its pistol grip, collapsing stock and ghostring sights).

"WAHOO!" Tyler couldn't contain his joy at the sight of guns. Glorious guns! It's been years since he saw one, and so much longer since he'd been able to touch one! The next two to touch his hands were his and his alone, of that he was sure. There was a mutual bond between firearm and the arm firing. That bond had always been sacred for Tyler.

The crack about the shotguns was just that: a joke. Tyler liked smaller weapons with more ammo. He grabbed two pistols and six extra clips of ammo fast, not really caring if anyone else had the same idea. Working duel holsters onto his waist, so he could draw them while running, sliding, or doing anything really, he closed his eyes and got close to the ground.

There. He smelled her still. Once someone's scent passed through Tyler's nose, he could always trace it. It'd been that way for as long as he could remember. But Damia was different. He'd taken a liking to her for some reason, and took an extra few seconds to know her scent from the others in the area. That, along with the fact that there were mostly men onboard, would lead to their eventual confrontation. He got the scent and straightened like a hound on a trail, "Wolf boy says: AWHOOOOOO!" He howled just like a wolf, fearless and happy for once in his life.

Tyler shot down the corridor on all fours, bounding off door frames and around soldiers to get where he was going. Suddenly, he lost the scent. Stopping, he sniffed again and looked up, growling, "Sneaky bitch..."

Without a second's pause, he shot up into the ceiling, grabbing onto a duct vent and pulling himself in. It was tight up here, but he knew what he was doing. Tyler used his bare feet to push himself along quickly, still chasing her scent. Finally, he reached what he could only assume was another armory, as the smell of gunpowder and the sound of bullets falling caught his ears. He dropped out of the duct and landed right behind Damia, one pistol already out and to her back, the knife he used to work his leather at her throat, "Well hey, baby. You miss me yet?"

((Assuming you control Damia, since the real player is out currently, I'll wait. If you're not, I'll spin some BS into an epic fight :) ))