The Lucky 13 chapter one

It seemed fate was catering to Charlie’s designs for once. It appeared she’d won out on that “random” selection of theirs, and it brought a humourless smile to her face. She could only guess upon the reason she’d been selected, but if she had to guess, it would probably be her mechanic background. She didn’t know any details for this military mission yet, but she was guessing he was looking for people with skill or looked like they could fight. Lucky him, she could do both.

“Well Lucky you Charlie, Major Rogers wants to see you.” One of the Provosts said unlocking her door. She held a mask of indifference the entire way to the Major’s quarters to hide the swirl of emotions she was feeling, mainly excitement and satisfaction. She was going to live through this, she swore, no matter how horrible the odds. She was going to get the full pardon, and then she was going to kill Nelson before her brother did. She wouldn’t have to watch him through his life away, she knew that for sure now. Andrew was the type to let his hate fester for years before he did something about it. He probably would hatch his plan to kill Nelson for another year. She could and would make it in time.

Once they reached the Major’s room, the Provost opened the door and called in. “Brought Charlie in for you, just like you asked. If you decide you don’t want her though, that’s fine too. We’ll be glad to keep her here.” The provost said with what she assumed he thought was a sensual smile, and brought his hand to her hip. Charlie’s eyes narrowed dangerously, as she resisted the urge to strike him, and instead her hands tightened into fists again, reopening her cuts.

“Thanks Sarg, but I think your hand’s getting a bit too cosy there.” Charlie said trying to keep the acid to a minimum. He lifted his hand away with an impish grin, like a little boy caught stealing a cookie but knew he wasn’t getting punished. “I’ll leave her to you then Major.” He said before leaving. Once gone, Charlie’s mask of indifference was back.

“So who’d you piss off?” Charlie asked the major once they were alone.

Doc Bolivar raised a single finger to her dry lips at Tyler Briggs's question, "Quiet, please. Doctor is working."

In the short time it had taken for Doctor Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar, age 34, to provide aid to Tyler, injured Provosts and inmates alike had checked themselves into the infirmary. Guards attacked by inmates, inmates beaten down by guards, and poor souls trampled and caught up in the mess; all of them requiring treatment. Like a well-oiled machine, Doc Bolivar made her way around the room injecting sedatives and pain-killers, slapping on bandages, reattaching lost limbs, holding hands, and kissing boo-boos. They hadn't called her the best for nothing.

"Shaw! Give me a hand here!"
"Hold him down!"
"No, no, you're gonna want to bite down real hard. There we go."
"This'll hurt a little."
"See? Nothing to it."
"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!"

Doc Bolivar washed her hands with an anxious glow in her eyes. The most extreme cases had been dealt with successfully, but many more remained. This was what she lived for and she was enjoying herself. She hadn't had such a busy day in years at the infirmary, and she almost missed those years of bloody combat tending to screaming and dying soldiers. Almost. She chuckled humorlessly, realizing how dull her life had become from those action-packed days. What she would give for a little more excitement.

"Hey kid," she called to the impatiently waiting Tyler, "Why don't you help me out here and then I'll get you to your "Major". The faster we get these people taken care of, the faster you can be on your way."

OOC: Joint post between myself and Doran. Due to some borderline graphic content, the post is being reviewed by Remæus and may be edited in the near future. -LeiaHair-

IC: Nora Sanders, Collin Long, Theo Calxes, Adolfo the Cook (NPC)

Nora found herself starring down an antique gun. She knew the dangers of being shot by the pistol from her days smuggling illegal weapons (modern and antique alike) to dealers and collectors. Deep in her head, she laughed at herself for calculating the price of the weapon, however she couldn’t focus on the numbers over the screaming curse words streaming through her head. Putting her hands in the air before her, she smiled at the cook.

“Now, now. If you wanna be the dominate fig’er in this fantasy, why didn’cha jus’ say so!” She said with a wink. “I was planin’ ta whip ya into shape, boy... but if that’s the way ya wanna play, I’m all for it, honey.”

Not looking back to Collin, she forced herself forward step by step. It had been a year since she Nora had had to pay the price in a trade with her own body... and even that was with the Commissioner for a large sum of Herth (an extremely addictive serum that was both snorted and shot into the system directly) that would get her anything she wanted on the whole damn hunk of ice.

Suddenly, it clicked. She had two small syringes in the pocket she had made on her bra for smuggling small items. One needle would put enough Herth into the fat man’s system to send him into a myriad of euphoric dreams and vivid visions. If it worked.

As the gate closed behind her and Adolfo wrapped his sausage fingers around her arm, she could only hope it would.

*****

Collin wrapped his fingers around the gate and pulled at it desperately. Although he would never admit it, his relationship to Nora had meant more to him than just receiving food and luxuries. The small, fiery girl had grown on him through the years. However, it didn’t matter what he did, in the back of his mind the oversized brut knew it was hopeless.

Well, so much for that plan, Theo thought, as the gate closed, leaving Nora and Adolfo on the other side. He'd never be able to throw the rock with enough force to do what he needed; he'd only anger Adolfo and give him a large bruise, and that's if he even aimed properly, which he doubted he'd ever be able to accomplish.

However, Collin Long was a large man and he hoped he wasn't too much of a grunt to not know pitchball. Theo picked up a smaller rock and tossed it lightly against the wall near Collin's head to get his attention.

Startled, the large man snapped his head around to find the origin of the rock. Fear that it was a guard, he prepared himself to fight. Slowly his hands dropped to his side and his knees bent slightly. His oversized, brown eyes scanned every inch around him, yet he saw nothing... save for small foot prints leading to a nearby column.

Not a guard.

Standing up, he walked in that direction. “Hello?” He called softly.

"Shhh." Theo put his index finger to his mouth and attempted to silence the big man from alerting Adolfo. "Collin," he whispered, "It's... Theodore Calxes. Do you know me?"

He hoped that would calm the ogre from whipping around the pillar fists first. He needed him to get the door open, as he already had formulated a plan.

"Torrin's scrawny bitch?" Collin asked ovelry dry, trying to remember if he had ever traded directly with the skinny lad. There was nothing this weakling could do. Turning his back, Collin walked back over to the door. To his dismay, the cook had drug Nora almost the whole length to the kitchen door. Laying his head against the bars, he gave in. 

"What can I do for you, Theadore Calxes?"

Seeing how far Adolfo had taken Nora by this point, Theo tossed the rock off to the side in disgust. He wanted it to travel far, but the heavy thing went about a foot before hitting the ground with a THUD, breaking some already broken cobblestones. "Well," he began as he walked to Collin's side, "Torrin does what he wants with me only so that the payback will be so much sweeter. Plus, I know he's being screwed by Henra on the whole Werax..." He realized what a tangent he had gone off on and focused back on subject.

"Collin, help me open this gate and I'll get you - and Nora - off this planet, safe and sound." He turned to look up at him to see his reaction.

“If I help you... you get me and her to that major’s ship?” Collin asked, an eyebrow raised. Growing up on ships, he knew he could fly almost any hunk of metal with an engine... he just didn’t know how to get past the security and programed docking locks. “What will it cost, Theadore Calxes? Do you, too, wish to bed Nora Sanders? Or is it drugs you seek?”

Theo knew that to "bed" Nora Sanders, he would have selected a more high-profile but more risky - to his identity - appearance on the prison and worked his way to her bed that way. Although Theo was interested in women, he wasn't interested in any women on this planet, or any women right now. Nobody could fulfill him right now, friends were temporary; the only friends he had ever had would have stabbed him in the back for money or prestige. His family was a wreck, only his mother could have cared for him, and she was lost. He only assumed a lover would be something in between. No, he'd only bed a woman to get something from her.

And drugs? Drugs were the stupidest invention of mankind. Agents that were intended to cloud your mind and judgement? Theo preferred his mind to be clear of such things.

But he didn't tell that to Collin. Best to keep his intentions secret, although "getting the hell off this planet" wouldn't be suspect at all, unless Collin suspected that wouldn't be enough. Best to think of Collin as a genius in a wrestler's body first, then assess his intelligence later.

"Drugs..." he replied to Collin. "I... can't survive without them." He played the part of a withdrawing addict, starting to look down and shiver. "I don't have them in me now. I need them. Get me up to that box."

He pointed to a control box over the gate, about 9 to 10 feet up. "I can open the gate from there. Hurry. We... we don't have much time."

Although his act was convincing, the giant of man noticed that Theo was lacking the sunken eye sockets and desperate gleam in his eyes. Not wanting to argue, though, Collin picked the scrawny man up.

Theo sat on Collin's shoulders and opened the box to look inside. Apparently, the Provosts thought its height would defeat any attempts to try to break it, as it wasn't locked shut. Nor was it complicated in any sense. Theo could break any lock as long as he knew what it was. For the past four years, he had been studying the security system of the prison and was sure that, while a state of the art system for its time, it had many loopholes and bugs coming from many years of a lack of upgrades and user-created macros to maximize efficiency, which only made the holes bigger. He had never tested his theory until now, but was about to.

If only he had a wire cutter... he pried the rusted panel loose and stared at the connections. Dozens of wires flowed through here, and he could see where the insulation wire was broken in many spots as well, luckily not where he had to work. He didn't want to be electrocuted on this day, the day he would finally be rid of this planet. A simultaneous disconnection of the master switch as well as the communication relay should open the door without sending an alarm to the guard station. Theo pushed some other wires out of the way and then grasped the two with his right hand. Closing his eyes, he yanked.

Judging from the sudden heat, some sparks flew out, but he didn't feel it damaged him. The groan coming from the gate told him it worked.

Almost forgetting the small man on his shoulders, Collin took a few steps towards the door. Pausing only to help the man to the ground, the brut ran down the corridor towards the entrance to the kitchen. He was going to make the cook pay if he harmed a single head on that girl’s head. Although, he was sure Nora could handle herself.

****

Practically skipping, the fat cook had lead the trapped Nora through the kitchen, past the coolers and storage, and into his small, crowded bunk. The heavy stench of the morning’s protein gruel hung in the stale air. After the door closed with a hiss, the small girl was thrown roughly onto the bed.

Adolfo licked his worm-like lips with his fat tongue. The woman could see the hunger in his eyes and could only assume in his pants, although the fat roll and dirty apron easily hid any sign that she was right. Wanting to get to her stash as quickly as possible... and wanting to be in control, Nora slid her leather coat off and let it drop to the bed.

“I bet you’ve been waiting for this for a long time...” She said with a smirk, slowly taking off layer by layer. Standing up, down to one button up cotton shirt, Nora slowly unbuttoned a button per step until her bra covered breasts pressed against his enormous gut.

The fat man fumbled to untie the overused apron as Nora’s slender fingers slid between the fat man’s tree-trunk thighs. Cupping his parts with one hand, she slowly unzipped the handmade pants. She could feel his excitement grow next to her hand as well as in his giddy shifting of weight. Her mind quickly started to calculate what she needed to do.

In order for the Herth to work, Nora needed a vein to inject it into. With all the fat on his body, she felt the best place to attempt this was going to be the large, throbbing vein that supplied the cock with blood. Due to the stimulation she was about to bestow with her mouth, it would be a quick rush to the fat man’s head. Reaching into the small pocket in the right cup of her bra, Nora pulled out one of the small needles... concentrating on keeping him distracted. He groaned and moaned softly as she took the cap off the needle.

His sausage fingers suddenly grabbed her hair. At first she was afraid she had been caught, but as the cook began to shove her head against him, she relaxed and prepared to stick his vein at first chance. It came when she had to force her head up for a breath. Running her hand along the spit covered appendage, she stuck the bulging vein with the needle and pressed the drug as fast as she could. Quickly scooting away from his growing furry, Nora dashed for the safety of the opposite side of the room.

Within seconds, Adolfo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head... and he fell to the ground with a giant thud.

Not wasting time, Nora dressed herself and pocketed the gun. She only hoped she could get to Collin and the ship before the cook was discovered.

********

Collin ran through quickly, leaving Theo to dust himself off. His hands were already cooling off in the air, so any pain he might have felt was either not there or numbed in the wind. Either way, Theo forgot about it and ran off after Collin.

Or should he? He slowed down a bit, thinking as he ran. He could get to the hangar easily, that much was certain, and he was even certain that the security system protecting the hangar would be ten times more difficult than the door out of the yard. He probably could not pilot a ship, but it likely had an autopilot, and authentication codes to get by whatever ship was in orbit. The only problem was that it likely lacked some type of FTL drive for such a tiny ship. That would be the problem. Maybe he should take Collin, which meant taking Nora along as well. As far as Theo was concerned, they were dead weight. He hoped they were smart enough so that, when they finally reached freedom, they separated and never spoke again. Theo could fashion himself a new identity, he didn't care if they couldn't.

He decided he needed them, for now.

Nora exited the fat cook's bunk quickly, leaving Adolfo on the ground with his pants down and in an uncompromising position. She felt that would give the Provosts something unsettling to look at when they inevitably found him. She was just deciding which way to go before Collin almost literally burst through the door. From the noise it gave, she thought it was knocked off its hinges, but thankfully was not.

"Nora Sanders." Collin said, predictably.

"Adolfo will not be having a good day." She replied, dryly. "Come on, let's get out of her-"

She was inturrupted by a tall, thin babyface coming in after Collin. One look at him told Nora everything. Theo Calxes, a runner under the "employ" of several of the self-appointed drug lords of the prison, who, she suspected, receives way too much than any one man deserves. Whenever Nora had dealt with him, she always saw him as a ‘Yes, ma'am, no ma'am’ kind of weakling, which instantly made her think there was something else deep down.

That weak face was not on his expression today. Now, he wore one of intense determination.

Theo was surprised to see Nora standing there looking as if she had just exited the shower, save for the messy hair. Buttoning her shirt up, Theo caught a glimpse of breast and bra but roughly told his mind to shutdown at that and get to business. "Nora, I'm sure you know me. Let's save the introductions and get to the hangar. I'm sure I can get us through the security."

Nora raised an eyebrow at the suddenly-overconfident Theo. Where, oh where, did you learn to do that? She thought, but guessed that he was in Jakau for something. "Oh, do you, now?" she said, raising her brow.

Collin walked to the door leading out to the hallway. "Nora Sanders, there is no more time for this." He opened the door a crack but saw nothing. "The coast is clear, but won't be for long." He told them both.

The three of them silently left the kitchen, all attempting to pad their feet against the concrete floor to minimize their footsteps. Along the way were two guards, but both were easily dispatched with when Collin decided both of their heads needed a little... connection to each other. A sudden, hard connection.

Reaching the final door before the hangar, Theo's heart sank. It was twice as large as the other doors, and likely twice as thick to keep the engine exhaust and grease in and away from the prison and to keep the prisoners out of it. The electronic door lock was a newly-upgraded TanStar 3400, a model that hadn't even been released before Theo had been caught, although he had heard about it in the trade magazines. The previews described it as "unbreakable", although they were all intended to be, but the operating system had also been redesigned from the source code up. With no basis or previous experience to rely on, Theo would need hours upon endless hours to even get a crack in this machine, and his own computer link as well, none of which he had.

"Shit." was all Theo could say.

"What?" Nora said. "Is that what your mind is really made up of?" She suppressed a chuckle at her own joke, and even Collin had a slight upturn on the corner of his mouth. Theo's face went red with all the fire and rage of embarrassment and being called on it. He turned to slap her, not caring that Collin was right beside her and knowing he would be dead seconds afterwards, when he heard a rifle being cocked. A half-dozen rifles, to be exact.

"FREEZE! ON THE FLOOR!" came the unmistakable Provost orders. They all had the same tone in their voice when in authority.

All three of them put up their hands, but hesitation by all of them led the impatient Provosts to provoke them. "I said, get down!" their commander ordered. "Put them down!" he told his troops. And then, the rifles fired.

The last thing Theo thought was, "Why are they on stun mode?" before his mind went black.

Tyler cracked his neck and rose, snapping his joints back into place where they had dislocated. Quickly, he nodded at the doc and moved to a duo of injured guards. Both had broken limbs and wouldn't shut up. Tyler grabbed one, the one with a broken arm, bone sticking out, and tried to push it back down. The guard was not happy, "Get the fuck off of me, you cannibalistic maniac!"

Ah, this was one of the guards that brought him in. Tyler promptly grabbed his head, slammed his own into the other's, and, now with the man knocked out, went to work. When the guard woke up, he would be in royal pain, but at least he would heal. Tyler smiled manically at a thought: he could screw up this guy's arm forever, put him in the hospital for a few years with a regrown bone that grew just the wrong way.

Nah, he'd let him go without that. Tyler moved to the next guy and set his leg without a problem, probably because of the demon smile Tyler still wore. Slapping the dude casually on the head, Tyler moved on to the next, helping where he could and laughing at a few here and there. Somewhere durring his time, he said to the doc, "You know, this stuff is boring. Do you care if I break a few arms just to keep myself busy?"

After that, he laughed again, because the guy who's ripped open side he was working on started smelling a lot like piss...

Gril sat silently in his lone cell, eyes closed, breathing rhythmic, hands clasped before him resting on his tattered jeans. The sounds of the prison, his home, echoed along the thick, blank, unforgiving walls, carrying the gentle whispers of his fellow inmates. His eyelids shifted, as if the orbs below were darting from side to side, seeking something. Whether asleep, or meditating, or chasing the sounds around him in his dark mind Gril’s still form betrayed no other movement, no other sign that he was alive, save for his slow, rhythmic breathing, and the subtlest movements of his pale eyelids. As the slight clacking of hardened boots slowly approached the murmur of the many inmates swelled and shifted, bellows rising from those that sought to defy authority and the harsh world around them, cautious breaths accompanying the silence of those that sought to hide from it. Officers such as Demetrius were rarely as brutal or vicious as the many Provosts that patrolled the halls of the prison, but just the same held far more power and had been known to be the instruments of inhuman cruelty.

Halting before the cold bars of Gril’s simple cell the young officer drew his baton, clanging it loudly along the edges of his lonely prison.

“Up up. They want to have a word with you.”

A thin sneer spread slowly across Gril’s pale features as his eyes slowly returned to the world of light. Being a primarily non-violent and unimposing prisoner had made it easy for him to get himself alone with a number of officers and Provosts, and in time he had brought many of them under his employ. The many inmates had come to give him a wide berth as they quickly realized they could never tell exactly who was on his side. Some guards merely gave him his space, avoiding the trouble that had accompanied his earliest persecutors on Jukau Gamma. Many of the rest had, at one point or another, dealt with him in things such as weapons, drugs, food, information, even platinum, and often gave him a certain degree of respect, possible profit always in the back of their minds. Demetrius was no exception. With a slight demeaning smile Gril eyed the younger man before carrying on their way as Demetrius adopted a brisk pace, attempting to keep up the facade of prisoner and officer while avoiding any form of real contact. As the murmur of the prison soon return and the last of the jail cells disappeared in their wake Demetrius quickly fell into step beside Gril, eyes darting through the many silent hallways they passed, edging in close to relay his findings in a low whisper.

Gril’s eyes glinted in the artificial light as they quickly continued towards the Major’s makeshift conference room. From the Commissar’s bribe to the mission at hand Gril was quickly updated on the most recent happenings, or rumors, of the prison and its new arrival. So far it seemed at least two had been accepted into the Major’s keep, Inali, and Damia. Inali, Inali, Inali….yes….darker skinned, young girl, a relatively new arrival. Brought in for prostitution and whatnot. Had a good head on her shoulders, last he’d heard. And Damia…He’d heard of her in her two year little stay on their private slice of hell. Many said she was crazy, and Gril could see where they’d get the idea, but if so there was still some brain in there. Enough of a mind churned in that twisted head of hers to make her dangerous, and provide an interesting little logic to that mind of hers. Hmmmm….he could use this to help get himself on that little list of the Major’s….if he was lucky. Amid the light clicking of Demetrius’s boots and the rough pit pat of Gril’s own dingy footwear his weasely voice broke the silence as the continued onward.

“Anything else?”

“Ye-yes, a couple of prisoners were caught trying to get onto the Major’s ship.”

“Caught? Not killed? Who were they?”

“Um, Nora, that big fellow that’s always with her, and that nerdy fella, Thello or something.”

Returning to silence Gril’s eyes narrowed in concentration as they arrived at the Major’s room. Standing to the side Gril watched as Demetrius loudly conversed with the pair of Provosts outside the door before returning to stand just behind him. The Major was already busy with another inmate, but it shouldn’t take long before Gril would have his chance. He’d have to make quite an impression to insure his seat off this god-forsaken rock.

Well Nora and company were having a better turn of luck then before. Chief Petty Officer Nathanial Hawkins, the coxswain of the naval transport had spotted the trio attempting to get into the hanger when returning from getting a cup of the sludge they called coffee on this ice ball. A sweet boy to say the least, he couldn't bare the thought of getting them killed and had insisted that the Provosts he summoned, brought along stun rifles instead of the old projectile firearms they had grabbed at first. he also provided a second saving grace, he patched a call over to the Major.

Rogers, whom was disgusted by the wasted Herth user (who was on death's doorstep), was glad to have the distraction. Waving the man quiet, he strolled over to the door, open it and walked out, the hem of his greatcoat flapping around his ankles. His flat stare moved over the the fireteam sized grouping of Provosts lurking outside his door....and an inmate.

"Take him back" growled Robert, causing the prisoner within the room to wail. Ignoring the pitiful, mournful sound, he turned to head down to the hanger, when one of the Provosts step towards him and not into the conference room.

"Sir" said Demetrius, "Major Rogers Sir."

"Yes" said the Major, pausing in mid-stride and looking over his shoulder.

"Um...I have brought Gril Robinson up for an interview."

"I never asked to see Mr. Robinson"

"Yes sir....I know that...um....but I thought..."

"You thought?"

"Ye-yes....I thought he might be of some use."

Rogers glared at the young Provost and swallowed the unkind things he was going to say about the boy's mental powers. He at the very least seemed eager to help in his task of picked out misfits for a suicidal mission. A sigh escaped his lips, as he reached up and have his temples a slight squeeze. He really needed another smoke or some good booze, maybe both. Maybe both and that Inali woman. Yeah, that last combination sounded like the best.

"Alright" he growled, "Put the little fellow in the room and I'll get to him when I get back."

Not waiting for an answer, Robert walked down the hallway and out of earshot. When he reached the hanger, the trio of want-to-be escapees had been bound hand and foot (with triple the number of restraints for the big, dark skinned fellow) and were being leaned against the wall, of the inside of the hanger.

"I got all three of them here" announced Nathanial, with a rather lacking salute.

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

When Rogers returned to the conference room, his mood was far better. Almost forgetting he had a prisoner waiting for his return, he strolled into the room, closed the door and pulled our a cigarillo. It was when he was pulling out his lighter, that he got a glance at the small, weaselish man. A groan was suppressed, as he clicked the old style lighter closed.

"So" he said, sounding bored, "Mr. Robinson, what makes you useful to me?"

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

Rogers almost smiled. The woman with striking eyes had hit the nail right on the head and proved a sharp mind in the same stroke. He leaned back in the rather uncomfortable chair and ran an eye over her baggy clothing , which concealed any clues to the play of her muscle or the lack there of. He also guessed that such an outfit would be useful in both keeping warm and keeping the horny inmates off of her. She was proving to be different from the rest of the female population already.

"I wasn't friendly enough with my regimental commander" he said, in an unconcerned voice, "but enough about me. Lets hear about you. Are you looking for a way out or is prison life warming up to you yet?"

((This post was a lot longer but f my l, my laptop decided to reload the freakin' page all by itself. Most likely due to a sticky key, why it's sticky is a mystery to me but hell it's just a topper. Anyway, there is no way I'm retyping all of that so you're all getting the short version.))

Damia looked from the Major to the bag and weighed her options. The end results seemed good enough for her, she'll get to kill as much as she wants instead of a few cheap kills every blue moon. She'd be able to have "fun" before the actual kill. Taking the bag, she said, "Alright you have a deal." She wasn't in total agreement with the whole pill part but she was sure there was something she could do about that. Then she stood up and went to the door, opening it, she startled the guard, the same one from before. "Aw, sorry did I wake you up?" She taunted before saying to Major Rogers, "See ya around Major." With her back to him, she gave him a mock salute/wave with two fingers, while the guard glared at her angrily.

With that the guard escorted her back to her cell, practically shoving her the whole way. When she got back to her cell she opened the well rusted locker and looked at the cobwebbed shelves. "Oh I forgot, I don't have much. Shame so much space will go to waste." She said looking down at the bag. Her statement was a big understatement, in her locker she had one good sock, which she was saving for when one of hers got too holey, a black shirt with sleeves that were practically nonexistent, and few other threadbare articles of clothing she'd saved anyway. All in all, the items hardly created a layer in the bottom of the bag. "Are you ever going to say something again Molly?" Damia asked after awhile, noting that she'd been so quiet.
"You don't seem to need me to say anything, you made the decision quite well without my help. Maybe you don't need me anymore." Molly said, her arms folded as she sat on the bed.
"Would you rather I stay here? You told me to give my name, I thought the answer you would give me would be obvious." Damia responded as she zipped up the bag. She waited for Molly to say something again, but she didn't she said nothing.

Clicking his ruddy fingernails on the thin metallic table Gril sat, deep in thought. Demetrius had gotten him in the door, as bumbling as he had been. Just the same things weren’t looking good. The Major had at least two members of his group for sure. His quick departure along the worn halls of the prison could only mean he’d gone to inspect the little group that had sought to take his ship, as nothing else of consequence had taken place, otherwise the main speakers would have been brought to bear and the Provosts would have stirred at the chance for blood. Theo, Nora, and her big brute….Collin…. Their little stunt had almost certainly gained the Major’s attention. The boy Gril new for a fact was more dangerous than he let on, and from what pieces of his file the Provosts had relayed to him Gril knew he was familiar with electronics. Nora was resourceful, and from the streak of women the Major had enlisted so far would be a likely choice. Collin was the perfect brute for any military mission. The Major’s choice would be simple. Three inmates, thoroughly willing to take risks and at least moderately capable would likely make a fine addition to his little rabble. That would probably bring the count up to at least five, and depending on the extent of their mission that could be a full boat. He’d have only one chance to get on board, or he could probably expect to spend at least the next few years on this god-forsaken rock.

As the door swung open Gril’s eyes darted to the worn figure before him. There was a bit more energy in his walk than before. He’d added the group to his team, at least one of them, or something else had happened, something that helped the Major, which would no doubt hinder Gril’s efforts. The bored tone of his voice and barely suppressed disgust did little to aid Gril’s situation. All finesse had to go out the window. The Major wasn’t going to give anything he said any real thought, he’d already made up his mind on the weak, weasely figure before him. Gril would just have to adapt…

Mirroring the Major’s bored composition Gril casually adjusted himself in his chair, eyeing the Major over lazily. Reaching out his left hand across the bare table before him he casually slid his other hand beneath the table, reaching into one of the many well placed compartments of his raggedy clothing. In a fluid motion the crude shank hidden there found itself buried through the back of his own hand, dodging all bones and primary muscles; essentially cutting through filler flesh. Suppressing a yelp of pain into a low growl Gril looked the Major dead in the eye, almost to stare him down. Shivers running through his spine from the burning pain in his hand Gril managed to force out coherent words, picking up momentum as he went.

“I’ve..*shudder*..I’ve been here for nearly eight years now. I’ve lived a life you will never know, a life you can hardly comprehend. I’ve done things to survive far worse than what I was sent here for, and I’d do it again to survive. I’m still alive because I’m smarter and more cunning than those around me, more vicious and ruthless than those that wanted me dead. You’ll take me with the rest because you need me as much as I need you.”

“You need me because you’re worn out, worn out from war, worn out from life. You’ve still got fire in you but this mission is suicide and you know it. That’s why they picked you, that’s why you’re here to use the scum of the galaxy as soldiers, because this is a far shot, a one in a thousand chance, hardly worth funding, hardly worth manning, and hardly worth trying. You need me because the smoke in the air says you’re addicted to Carlia, and you need me because when you start falling apart I’m just enough of a snake to keep my head on straight and keep things going. You need me because I know these people like you never will, and because I may be a liar, a cheat, and a snake, but I’m you’re snake because I need you and the rest of these scum to stay alive.”

“But then again, what do I know? I’m sure you can keep Inali from ditching the first chance she gets, and of course everyone knows Damia would never stoop so low as to kill you all in your sleep the first night. Not to mention some of the bigger fellows who just can’t wait to get their hands around some fresh necks.”

His heart pounding in his ears Gril quickly regained his calm composure as best he could, considering there was a knife in his hand and all.

"That, Mr. Briggs, would be counter-productive to what we're trying to accomplish here," Doc Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar replied to the 19 year-old inmate, "and if you continue to injure my patients any further we'll be working backwards."

Despite the doctor's words, that little punk was actually doing an unpredictably good job, for a crazy, cannibalistic criminal. Not only that, but she was surpised he was even half-willing to do what she had told him. It was definitely more than what most Jukau Gamma prisoners were willing to do.

'Still,' she sighed with her thoughts while dragging an unconscious Provost, a victim of Tyler's temper, to an empty bed, 'I think he's trying to make this more difficult for me.'

"Kid, just bear with me for now," Doc Bolivar grunted, "and as long as they're in no worse shape than they were when they got here, I don't care what you do. Just--"

She collapsed under the weight of a particularly hefty, barely-conscious inmate, "Just give me a hand!"

“Oh if you’re offering me the job, I’ll take it. You can be sure of that.” Charlie said leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over the chest. She received an evasive answer, hadn’t really expected anything else, but it still brought her a twinge of annoyance. “I’m assuming I’m here because you’re gonna need someone as handy with a pair of pliers as well as a gun. I couldn’t say as I haven’t seen your ship yet, but I can’t see the Army being overly generous with a mission of this sort.” Charlie took the opportunity to look the Major over as she talked. He was older than her, well into his forties from what she could tell, not too horrible on the eyes, and if the tan of his skin he had could be trusted, he was used to infinitely warmer climates. He must be miserable here, the thought came without the least bit of compassion. And why should she? He was going to be out of here soon enough regardless. Besides someone high up in the military obviously trying to do him in, there was no reason to feel bad for the man.

“Food, clothes, life essentials; those are going to be infinitely better on your ship no matter what, so I’m not going to waste my time asking about that. My only question of real importance; if we make it through this mission, what guarantee do I have I’ll see that pardon and you won’t just dump us off right back here?” Charlie asked, eyes narrowed on the man. She didn’t care what the odds, if she had that pardon assured in her future, she wouldn’t let herself die.

Tyler saw the doc fall and moved fast. He pushed off of the table close to him and slid on bare feet under the falling man, then braced and grabbed one leg. Using a lot of his remaining strength, Tyler flipped the inmate onto a bed and held out a hand to help the doc up, "I'm not canniballistic, just feral. What else do you need help with? I'm pretty much done with setting breaks and closing up the ones bleeding out, by the way."

IC: Theodore Calxes

Theo's vision came back slowly. Foggy at first as well. He couldn't tell where he was... the last time he was conscious, he had been standing, staring at the barrel of a half-dozen Provost's rifles, before seeing the stun bolts hit him everywhere. Now, it looked like he had his arms propped up against a wall, with another wall stretching out and cornering to another wall that moved to the left.

He backed away from the wall, but instantly regretted that action. The "wall" looked oddly table-like - wait, it was a table. And the wall that he saw stretching out was the floor. He stood up straight, but instantly felt woozy and fell off the chair he just now realized he had been dumped into. Still not sure if he had fallen onto the floor or the wall, he vomited. Screw gravity... he thought, It hates me. This is why I don't do drugs.

He had never been hit by that many stun bolts before, and he hoped he never would again. The room he was in didn't look like solitary confinement though, so his wish might be fulfilled, maybe. He crawled away slowly from his own retch, the stink threatening to bring another out of him, but he hadn't eaten in almost 12 hours now, and there was nothing inside that would come out. Luckily, the loss of yesterday's prison supper helped his mind recover from his daze.

He only now realized someone else was in the room with him, the Major Rogers, in fact. He had been staring at him the entire time.

Theo's face instantly became scared. He wasn't even sure he was acting at this point, "S-s-sir, what happ-happened?" Theo congratulated himself on a good job of looking the scared little boy, but only half of it was fake, he was sure. He really was wondering what this military-type would do with him.

TAG: Irish Wolf

Damia walked the halls of the prison carrying her bag with her as to protected it better. "Now what?" Molly asked, breaking her earlier silence, there was of course a guard to make sure she didn't get into trouble trailing after Damia. "I don't know, you're the one who usually comes up with the ideas." Damia replied as she walked.
"You have to do some work for yourself you know. Maybe you should go see how bad those bruises really are. They still hurt don't they?" Molly said.
"Bruises are bruises." Damia said as she continued walking.
"Go, it'll give you something to do, besides I'm sure that infirmary smells of blood, flesh or something like that, I'm sure, it'll be somewhat enjoyable." Molly ordered.

Damia, always listening to Molly, did exactly that. She didn't know the doctor all that well seeing how she often refused to get injuries treated. Walking into the infirmary, she looked to the doctor, ignoring everyone else in the room. "Hey doctor, Molly told me to have you check out these." She said pointing to the purple bruises on both sides of her face.

The heavy mass of fat pressuring her into becoming one with the floor was pulled off of Doctor Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar. Soon, air was once again flowing through her lungs. She hadn't expected the obese man to decide that the perfect time to mimic a frozen vegetable was while she was helping him walk to a bed. Doc Bolivar definitely hadn't expected Tyler Briggs to pull the unconscious man off of her, and it was beyond all previous expectations that he'd offer a hand to help her up.

"I'm not canniballistic, just feral."

The doctor chuckled as she took the extended hand and pulled herself up, "My apologies. Do forgive me, my good sir."

'I guess some people are just beyond all expectations,' she thought with a sigh.

"Well," Tara Bolivar examined the situation, "I suppose--"

"Hey doctor," an unknown voice called out from behind her, "Molly told me to have you check out these."

She spun around to face the newcomer with a flick of black hair near Tyler's face. A young woman looking about the same age as Tyler was standing at the entrance of the infirmary. She didn't recognize her immediately, but that didn't mean much to the doctor. She knew plenty of the inmates by faces alone, but it would be impossible to remember every one of them. This girl was just another nameless face in a sea of many people that she might or might not have treated at some time. Except that, for some strange reason, she wasn't. She was different.

Doc Bolivar assessed the woman carefully before responding. First, there was only one guard around her and he didn't look too particularly concerned about escorting her. Second, she was carrying a bag with her. Third, she was bruised pretty badly in the face identically on both sides, yet the doc could spot no other injuries. Strange indeed. Fourth... who the hell was Molly?

"Alright," she spoke cautiously before attempting to approach the woman, testing the water, "do you mind if I take a look at those bruises?"

A sharp pain brought Nora quickly out of the dark haze of unconsciousness, snapping her head up. It took her a moment to realize the pain had come from a swift kick from Collin, who sat as stiff as he usually did. After blinking her heavy lids, she could see that he was bound tightly... and with twice as many restraints as what was normally required to bind a person.

Struggling halfheartedly with her own restraints, Nora fought the urge to vomit. It had been a while since she had found herself fighting a 'stun-coma' as it was called. Clenching her teeth, she looked around the room. Laying in the middle of the room was a vomiting Theo. Under normal conditions, she would have called out a smart crack... however, her head throbbed and she feared she would be in the same boat if her mouth opened.

Noticing him about the same time, Nora stared the major down.

"S-s-sir, what happ-happened?"

Pathetic sniveling piece of shit. she thought. Suddenly, she could no longer hold her vomit in. With a hacking noise, Nora threw up hard, leaning her head as far over her knees as the restraints would allow.

Rogers sneered slightly, as he swallowed hard, after watching two of the three inmates wake from the effects of stun rifles and puked up what thy had left in their stomachs. The sight, sound and smell were horrible, even under the bast of all possible incidents when one must be around heaved contents of a human's digestive system but this was barely tolerable. The young naval rating, whom had been standing behind the army officer, covered his mouth in haste and stepped outside of the storage room (which had been changed over for its new use as a detainment cell), unable to bare it. At least the big one had yet to vomit.

"You" said the Major, swallowing again as the stench wafted around him, "Were captured, attempting to escape with these other two characters. I must say that you were doing a good job, until you reached that last door. Pity there were guards waiting. Although, I must wonder at your logic, in choosing to try and steal my transport. Do you think that I traveled across space in a vessel made for short range landings or did you think I came in some small vessel that could land on this hunk of rock?"

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

Rogers starred hard Mr. Robinson, before his mouth twitched and twitched again. Soon, there was a smile and a thin laugh, not filled with mirth or joy but a savage acceptance of the situation. Here before him, his hand staked to the table, was one of the few people on this whole damn world, that understood what was going on. Looking at the growing pool of blood, he lifted the cigarillo to his lips again and lite the thing, after all, someone this smart and well informed, shouldn't be wasted because of a little pain.

"And you don't even know the details of the mission" he said dryly, "And yet you will jump at the chance to get off this ice ball. That shows that you are very brave or very stupid. I still can't make up my mind in that little matter, given you just stabbed yourself to make a point. I could have just finish my recruiting for this little job and you'd have to stay here, with a nice hand wound to fester and kill you. A very big gamble on your part and one that seemed to have payed off. Not only did you get a weapon in here but you claim that you'd be able to hold this merry band of basketcases together if I fall apart."

"I'll give you a chance" said Robert, exhaling a cloud of smoke and stepping over to the inmate, "And see how you do during the four months of training. Want a hit, before we pulled that knife outta your hand or are you really attached to that table?"

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

"You don't" said Rogers, looking at the woman with his flat stare, "You have nothing to guarantee that I or the Federation will pardon you. All you have is my word and you'll have to take it at face value or go back to your cell."

"Let me tell you something" he continued, looking up that the ceiling, "As I said before, I wasn't friendly with my commanding officer but he never had anything on me, not to get me assigned to a pisspoor job like this. No, I volunteered for this. Why might you ask, because it was take this job or watch, as one of my soldiers was court marshaled for shooting an officer and get the firing squad. That soldier is still serving with the Ninth and I'm here. What does that say about my word?"

Tyler moved in front of the doc and looked the girl in the eye with an unwavering gaze. Then, without turning, he said, "Doc, I got this one, go tend to someone who needs ya."

Then, lightly, he touched the bruises, feeling for how bad they were. After a second, he took his hand back, cracked his neck loudly, and asked, "Unless you're missing teeth, I don't see a major problem. It'll hurt for a while, but that's about it."

"Inali is not in there" said the calming voice, as he stepped into the doorway.

Alistair caught a glimpse of an elderly man complete with smouldering cigarillo wedged in the corner of his mouth, tucked behind the semi circle of armed Provosts. The way they acted towards his presence there was no doubt in his mind that this was the man in charge. The man who was about to abscond with his meal ticket putting him back in the regrettable position of relying on Commissioner Baum for his next meal. Such circumstances would simply not be favourable after the luxuries the girl had provided.

He was about to question the seductive young inmate’s whereabouts when the familiar sound of her voice reached his ears. It wasn’t long before the feisty dynamo had pushed her way through the crowd and positioned herself next to the giant man.

"Hey! Alistair!" She spoke softly, though her voice held a neurotic undertone. "What the hell kind of trouble did you just get yourself into?" She asked, titling her head and inspecting his shoulder with an almost uncharacteristically maternal concern.
He followed her gaze as she looked up and addressed the Major who had lectured him. "Long time no see." She grinned weakly. "Now, do you think you could get them to get him.to the infirmary?"

"Inali, if I get medical treatment for your Alistair, he becomes mine, just like you. Will he do well with others because I don't have the time and materials to waste on a mad dog, which would have to be put down."

For a moment the dark woman cracked a smile, her gray eyes glinting at a joke she'd managed to find somewhere in Rogers' sentence. Biting down on her lip Inali chuckled silently to herself, putting what she was about to say next through a filter before speaking. Deciding that her words weren't too out of order she looked back up at Rogers as she spoke, one hand unconsciously tangling itself in Alistair's strawberry blonde hair.

"I'm yours?" She asked, raising an eyebrow with a sarcastic smirk. "Mmm, Mr. Rogers you shouldn't be saying that. You haven't even signed the Prenup yet." With the joke out of the way Inali turned her attention back to Alistair, her brow furrowing as if she was in deep thought. Which she was, the decision was something one had to take the time to contemplate. Not to mention in the end it wasn't exactly her choice to make. Especially considering Alistair's. . . lifestyle choice.

"I would hope so. He does well with others. . . For the most part." She wasn't about to lie to the Major. It wasn't that the woman wasn't good at lying. No, lying was a pretty damn easy thing to do. Still, she had come to find that most of the time honesty was the best policy. For the time being though, she'd have to skirt around the truth. "I think we should talk it over more later. It isn't really my decision to make. Though, I don't think Alistair will say no."


Alistair's blood boiled at the indication of property causing his upper lip began to furl exposing the jagged yellowed fangs below. He was poised to pounce at the indignation of the Major’s words. Such an action would most likely see him killed but he was slowly dying under the handy of his current master. He couldn’t see how anything would be different under this authoritarian should he choose to follow. A glimmer of hope reached his ears as Inali stoked his ego. Hidden within her words came the underlying message that hinted to Alistair to remain calm, she would look after this.

The burly man had no sooner let his guard down when he felt the jarring jolt from the butt of a rifle greeting the base of his skull. Such a blow would instantly incapacitate a man f lesser stature. Augmented by the current dosage of adrenaline that coursed through his veins Alistair was able to turn his head to catch a glimpse of the assailant before a second blow raked across his cheek. He manage to roll will the blow lessening the impact as he tumbled hard to the cold floor. Looking up he could see the ghastly silhouette of Commissar Baum looming over him.

“Not part of the deal.” Baum scolded as he let out a nervous chuckle hooking a thick finger into the exposed wound on Alistair’s shoulder claiming ownership. “Take the girl, and the others;this one still belongs to me I’m afraid.”

Alistair fought to sit up against the weight of the oppressive thumb that sought control. He chose to remain silent for the moment and watch how this would all play out. Any racket Inalie had planned to run on the Major just got infinitely more complicated now that Baum had thrown his chips into the pot. The awkward silence that followed the Commissars demands did nothing but strengthen his position giving him a chance to up his ante as he clarified his stipulations.


“Fill your ranks anyways you choose. Just leave this one out of them. He’s far too valuable a commodity to just send him off to be killed.”

That told her he was either good at spinning tales on the fly, or good for his word if he was telling the truth. But that didn’t give her the confirmation she wanted, and she couldn’t help the tick in her cheek that was now there. No guarantee meant she could risk her life and still end up back on this God forsaken ice ball, bur if she waited here, for another fourteen years, even with an unlikely chance for parole, it would be too late to save her brother. To stop him from being sent here…

No, waiting wasn’t an option. She’d have to take his word on it…for now. She didn’t have to be happy about it though. The ticking in her cheek ceased, as she came to her decision. She pushed off the wall, and stuck her hand out. “Fine I’m in, so let’s shake on it soldier boy. You men of your word take this kind of thing seriously right?” She asked, one dark brow lifted slightly in taunting inquiry.

Eyes narrowing slightly at the mirthless laughter Gril’s mind spun into turmoil. Was the laughter that of cruelty, or of simple acceptance? As the Major lit another of his cigarillos Gril’s mind rapidly considered the possibilities. He might have made it. Or he hadn’t. If he hadn’t he’d have to act fast. A carefully planned prison riot could cause enough of a disturbance to sneak onboard the Major’s ship, or even hijack it. Set some of his makeshift grenades throughout the base and blow through all the security checkpoints, destroy the power source for the locking gates on all the cells in the middle of the night. This could work.

“And you don't even know the details of the mission, and yet you will jump at the chance to get off this ice ball. That shows that you are very brave or very stupid. I still can't make up my mind in that little matter, given you just stabbed yourself to make a point. I could have just finish my recruiting for this little job and you'd have to stay here, with a nice hand wound to fester and kill you. A very big gamble on your part and one that seemed to have payed off. Not only did you get a weapon in here but you claim that you'd be able to hold this merry band of basketcases together if I fall apart."

Seemed to have paid off? Did that mean he’d made it? Withholding any reaction of surprise or happiness Gril maintained his still composure, his hand twitching slightly in its own little pool of blood.

"I'll give you a chance and see how you do during the four months of training. Want a hit, before we pulled that knife outta your hand or are you really attached to that table?"

Breathing a small sigh of relief Gril dismissed his thoughts of rebellion and riot, returning to the now relatively straightforward matters immediately at hand…like his hand… Reaching across the table with his good hand and coming to an awkward risen position Gril jerked the rough shank from his hand, audibly drawing in a short breath as the crude blade drew free of his hand, drawing a thin spurt spray of blood as it went. Repressing a shudder as he slowly manipulated his fingers and finding no damage Gril returned his attention to the Major.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that one. I’ve never been very fond of taking hits, in any respect of the phrase.”

A small smile crossing his face Gril’s mind soon diverted to the matter at hand. Things were moving now. He was essentially off this rock, but there was much to be done. He couldn’t skip out on the Major early, because he needed the pardon….and maybe a few other magic tricks from those in charge, be it a new identity or a nice retirement on some far off planet. Sticking with the Major would obviously put him in harm’s way. He’d need to get the Major and the rest of the convicts under his control as soon as possible. Gril the slinking, sneering coward had died as soon as the Major had walked into the room. From now on, if he expected to survive, Gril would need to be someone the convicts and the Major would listen to, someone they respected, or at least feared. So much to do, and only four months to set it all in stone…

“Demetrius!”

Turning as the door slowly edged open Gril eyed Demetrius over, ignoring his obvious eavesdropping and turned once more towards Major Rogers. Back straight and face set to display confidence and determination Gril spoke to his new commanding officer.

“I need free reign of this facility, access to inmate files and records, and permission to be in possession of prison contraband. Is that acceptable? Also, how long until we leave? There are some things I need to do.”

Once the ball got rolling every minute would count. Every expression, every word, every movement could seal his fate, for better or worse. Gril had no illusions as to his new situation. He had one chance, one chance to survive whatever the Major had planned for them, and to do that he would need to play the game like never before. For eight years… For eight years he had been a thief, a cheat, a liar, and a coward, because that is what was best to survive, the best to thrive. But now the game had changed. A new game, a new mask, new enemies, and new rules.

Gril had never been stronger than those around him, or faster, or smarter. He had no special gifts, save one. Will. Through his will he’d gained all things, everything he’d ever had. From the strength in his arms, to the fire in his heart, and to the wit of his ever churning mind, his will had been his one call to power, and now it would have to keep him alive in a whole new world, a whole new life. The game had begun, the first move had been the Major, and soon the other convicts. What fun...