The Lucky 13 chapter one

Prison physician Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar observed the young woman's face carefully with the eyes of an experienced professional. One side of the woman's face was adorned with a familiar bruise. A bruise she'd seen countless times on the faces of defiant inmates from the Provosts as a punishment for disobedience. The other bruise found on the opposite side of her face, however, was different. A darker shade of red with purple discoloration already visible, this bruise didn't come from a simple club or hand to the face.

"Well," the doctor said with little emotion, "one side'll heal up fairly quick, but the other's in pretty bad shape."

Doc Bolivar urged the bruised inmate to follow her to a nearby sink where she washed her hands and applied soap to a moist towelette-like cloth.

"I'm going to clean that bruise there to avoid infection from any cuts in the skin," she announced in a rehearsed manner.

The doc made sure both hands were visible to Damia as she scrubbed the wound firmly, keeping an ever vigilant eye on Damia's emotional state to insure she didn't react with hostility at the action.

"Geez," she wiped away some soap near the woman's eye, "what did you do? Slam yourself against a wall or something?"

With both bruises cleaned to the doctor's satisfaction, she wrapped a moist towel around an ice pack and, after clarifying what she was doing, gave to the young woman to hold against the larger bruise.

"Keep it up against the bruise until I tell you to take it off in about ten minutes," she doctored, "and then I'll give you something for the pain once I've had another look at it. Got it?"

She took another look at the 19 year-old as she exhaled a satisfied breath of air. Her work here was done, for the time being. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in an authoritative position and a smile slipped past her chapped lips. While searching the dusty corners of her memory for a possible past encounter with her, a thought of realization crawled into her mind as she observed the young woman.

"Doc Bolivar, that's who I am. Doctor Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar. I thought it might help for you to know who's been poking away at that bruise there for the last ten minutes or so," she stood in silence, perhaps letting the young woman consider whether or not to reveal her name before she finished the statement with, "Do you want something to drink? Water?"

She looked over to the nearly forgotten Tyler, "What about you? Thirsty?"

"My favorite" asked Rogers, glancing over at Inali, "Is a sweet little lab tech back on Regina. Of course, thats when her hubby isn't around. However, that is not whom your inquiring about. I do not have a favorite among your number, although Damia is not in the running. Charlie however, is interesting but I doubt she'd go for an old boy like me. So I guess that leaves you, from those three."

He glanced over at the young woman, searching her face with slow sweeps of his eyes. Why was she asking who his favorite was? Did Inali think that being the Major's favorite would keep her from being forced to train along side the rest of the damned souls he was pulling from this hell? Did she think that maybe he would spare his favorite from going planetside, to risk life and limb for the total victory of the human race over this alien aggressor? Never, he would work reach and very one of these sorry bastards into soldiers, for all their lives depended on it. She would sweat for him, in more way then one.

"Why" said Roberts, "Are you interested in the position?"

"Why" said Roberts, "Are you interested in the position?"

There was a double entendre in there somewhere. Inali didn't take the opportunity to point it out. Though, briefly it did cross her mind to consider writing those cheesy porn lines for a living if she ever got out alive. How much money was there in that? Probably more than the dignity one losses and the ability to become a serious writer forever taken away. Inali shook herself out of those thoughts quick, there were more important manners.

And while she deliberated what she was to say next a small chuckle left her throat at the Major's response. She found humor in the situation, though his response itself would have been enough to make the woman crack a smile. The thing that really tickled her funny bone was the idea that Alistair was in the next room plotting out some sort of shenanigans. Hopefully it didn't include getting either of them killed, she'd like the opportunity to play with the Major more.

There was also humor in the fact that she'd been in such a situation countless times before. Providing a distraction for her business partners, asking questions when she really didn't care for the answer, waiting. It irked her slightly, making her wish she'd been the one who pilfered the gun. Still, this was what she'd been best known for, it was a practiced skill, and she'd probably be stuck doing so until she could prove that when handed a gun she could shoot the stripes off a bee from down the hall. Albeit, the bee analogy was probably a bit of an exaggeration on her part.

"Hmm." Inali mused thoughtfully, brushing her bangs aside and shrugged. Her lips cracked into a smile and her eyes cast to the side, giving her an immediately I'm-up-to-no-good look. Granted, it was intended to. Of course she was supposed to look like she was up to no good. Good people don't try to seduce a Major on a suicide mission. Good people did things like rescue old ladies from trees and help cats cross the street. . . Or was it the other way around?

"Well Major I wouldn't ask if I wasn't interested." She began, unfolding her arms and leaning back against the wall. "I told you already, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a tease."

"Oh send him off" said the Major, sighing softly, "No need to have...Alistair was it.....show up for some medical treatment and a need a new pair of pants. I have some doubt that he'd get a pair and the naval squids will complain if they have to clean up the seats on the transport. It would be a shame if I have to refuse him for being dirty."

Inside Alistair puffed proudly realizing his pitiful dance seemed to sell the urgency of the matter to the Major well. He could feel the corners of his mouth begin to tighten as the distaste in the voice reached his ears those valuable words were spoken. While it was a relief to be dismissed so easily it was of even greater significance that Inali had seemed to gain a grasp of what he was up to. He was sure she would play the part and grant him the luxury of time should he dally in the disposal of the piece.


Leaving his companion behind to do what she did Alistair quickly made his way down the hall and through the doorway to the prison washroom. The choking stench of the dilapidated bathroom had overwhelmed his olfactory senses as he neared the threshold. Finding himself alone he made his way to the nearest stall and removed the cold porcelain lid. Leaning forward he took a quick survey of the contents. It was as vile and disgusting as he had expected given the sordid condition of the facilities and the neglect it received.

Procuring a medium sized plastic bag from his pocket he held it up to the light looking for holes. Finding the integrity of the container intact he carefully placed the prized pistol within the bag. Satisfied that he had squeezed the unwanted air from the package he gave it a few abrupt twists to secure the contents in place before doubling the bag over and repeating the procedure. Confident of the makeshift watertight seal he had created he placed the packet in the bottom of the tank for safe keeping.

Returning the lid to its original placement he began to shove an enormous wad of toilet paper into the grisly bowl effectively disrupting the function of the device. A quick pull of the lever and the putrid flow of yellowed water continually rising reassured his assumptions of success. Task completed he headed over to what they claimed to be a wash station to at least rinse the vile concoction from his hand. The water ran cold as he turned the facet handles and motioned them underneath the slow flow. He at least had made the attempt.

Stepping back from the sink to take a look in the broken mirror, something he had failed to do in a great long time, an odd hollow sound from the tile below his right heel caught his attention. Stooping down to one knee to get a closer look he managed to make of the small scrape marks the encompassed the square. Tiny filings were also present indicating the procedure was recent. Pulling back the tile revealed a tiny hole littered with maps and magazines. It would seem that somebody else had a secret stash and had already managed to obtain the more valuable contents.

Quickly rummaging through the contents Alistair managed to find nothing that would be of much use or able to pinpoint just who the prison pack rat may have been. He managed to ascertain the person in question was resourceful judging by the content and the accuracy of the maps provided. If they were left behind in such an obvious manner one could be sure they were no longer of use to the scribe. They too were likely to be part of hat the Major was putting together.

“Interesting”

Kicking the tile back into place Alistair realized he had overstayed his visit. Picking up the pace it wasn’t long before he found himself outside the doors to the infirmary. He took a deep breath holding as he passed through the doors. The room was pristine white in comparison to the filthy services he had just witnessed down the hall. It wasn’t long before he managed to spot Inali working her magic with the Major.

“L-let’s get this over w-with.” He stumbled out nervously as he approached the pairing.

"Its a few benefits job" said Rogers, taking a final pull on his cigarillo, as the burning intoxicant started to singe his lips. It wasn't so much that the warm feeling hurt, not with the drug coursing through his blood stream. However, the little tingle was the signal he used over the years of his addiction, to keep from getting his mouth full of ash (and the blisters on his tongue, which hurt like a motherfucker after the buzz was gone and made kissing strange, according to the lap tech). Without a sound, he reached up, plucked the smoldering nub from his lips and flicked to the ground with a careless grace. Smiling suddenly, he turned to Inali.

"Maybe more then a few comforts though" he said, as the smile melted away back into the normal smooth face of the Major.

Hearing an odd footstep, he turned and stamped his boot down on the still glowing cigarillo, grinding the life from the embers with his heel. One could compare the action to his purpose there. Like the boot coming down, he arrived with a force unknown to these souls, a power to free them. Like the heel, he was grind through the population, snuffing out their lives as inmates. From this point on, they could either become dead rubbish, like his smoke or turn into heroes.

With the return of the giant, Robert walked before the inmate and the chosen woman, leaving Inali to carry or guide Alistair. God knows, he wasn't going to touch the man. One never knows if a simpleton will react like an abused dog at a touch or if they've act like a love sick puppy. Even though thy were almost into the medical ward, he didn't want to have to get treated or hold the clawed hand of big brute when the doc cleaned the wound and put a bandage over the cut on the fellow's shoulder.

After a short stroll, his ears pricked up, listening for some scraps of whispered conversation, Rogers was pushing the doors to the infirmary. Inside, the wounded from the never riot, sat in chairs (for the better off) or laying on beds or gurneys (for the worse). Also, standing by a sink, was Damia, having her face looked after. Well, at least the insane girl was stable enough to seek medical attention, even for the self- inflicted bruises. There too, was the wild boy he had sparred a brain dissection while still alive.

"Well" said the Major, standing aside and holding the door open, "Still alive boy?"

Inali had raised an eyebrow at his statement. It threw her off for a moment, something she wasn't used to. While she could have prodded around her brain for some form of witty comeback, it wouldn't have had any effect due to being delivered a day late and a dollar short. Thus Inali opted to do nothing but keep the smirk on her lips as she shook her head slightly.

The sound of Alistair's footsteps echoing off the floor caused Inali's head to perk up. He'd returned, and hopefully he could brief her on whatever plan he'd thought up. It was at times like those that Inali wished he'd had telepathy, it would make trying to stay secretive infinitely more easy. Fortunately, the Major seemed utterly disgusted by Alistair's presence, for he made it a point to float off into the medical ward before Alistair could even get half way down the hall. The action was just peachy keen for Inali though, it provided them with enough time to talk even if it was only for a small frame of time.

"Hey there darlin'." She grinned widely at the strawberry blond, walking towards him and grabbing him by the sleeve. Inali tilted her head up and let her eyes widen slightly so that her expression seemed sincere. Anyone watching them would probably think she was giving him a pre-doctor pep talk. "So what did you do with it." She asked him, stressing the word it so that he knew that she knew about the gun. Not waiting for a response Inali's hand went to where she'd last felt it near his waist band, though to no real surprise it wasn't there. Chewing on her lower lip Inali hoped he'd had a good reason behind why he'd disposed of the weapon.

"It's gone." She mused aloud, removing her hands from the cannibal. With a slight jittery air Inali traced the scar on her her left little finger, cracking her back and letting out a bit of a sigh. So much for that idea, she wasn't about to have Alistair brief her on any ideas in the middle of the hall where someone might hear them. "Well, you'll have time to explain later, right?" She asked, though not expecting a real answer. Inali's head turned towards the door, then to her vertically mutated friend. "So, you wanna go in there or do you want me to take care of it? I'm not so sure we should PO the Major right now." Inali leaned in and mocked a whisper. "Between you an' me, I don't think he likes you all that much."

Personally, Inali didn't want to be in the room while the Major was interviewing another person. She still had to get a good amount of things into that duffel bag anyway. Not to mention she'd want to go and get her things from storage, where they were put with the intention to be issued to her after she finished her sentence. While no one expected her to get out she didn't believe things were tossed after seven months. In a hidden compartment in her coat was a pack of Marlboro Menthol 100s and Inali was jonesing for a cigarette like a pregnant woman wanted a twinky.

Why the hell was she so damned cold? No matter how hard Kendra attempted to warm herself up it just didn't seem possible. Huddled under the blanket the prison provided she blew into her hands, hoping her breath would warm her fingertips up. The fact that she hadn't really eaten anything in the last day could have had something to do with it, but it wasn't her fault that the food tasted a little off. Not her fault that "they" were trying to kill her. Maybe that wasn't being logical exactly, but it was a spur of the moment action to upchuck the supposed poisoness food.

Another shiver caused her body to shake. Surprisingly Jukau Gamma wasn't as bad as she expected it to be. Her first day there she had run into a group of brutes. Fortunately Kendra had managed to get herself out of there without any injuries. Running had been the smart choice, for both her and them, because being realistic, there was no way someone her size was going to take out three men.

She had managed to accomplish a couple things in the last week though. Even though she was in this horrible place, even though she no longer had her proper equitment, even though she no longer possessed her research materials, her work still continued. It had been easy to use her appearance and lure a 'innocent' girl into believing she was a good ol' doctor there to help them as best as she could. It had made her feel much better to know that she was once again moving down the road of proceeding with her studies. Her body though, was not in proper health at the moment for her to work. It was the second day that she was unable to continue her work.

Taking a deep breath she attempted to clear her head. Now would be the time to take some form of hallucinogen. After taking a nice and mind clearing trip she could relax and continue on her merry way. Alas none of her choice of narcotic could be found in the prison. She tended to mix and enhance to get the effect she wanted.

Sure she had only spent a month in the joint but she had been placed in a special institution for the time it took for a proper, but according to her lawyer, a rather rushed, investigation to take place. She remembered all the headlines that the local papers had put out, all the pictures of the victims who actually had people who cared about them. Two surviors were found in her lab, a young boy and a woman in her thirties. Apparently both refused to be in the court room during her trial and sentencing.

Oh Doctor Kendra Lawrence, how much scrutany you've taken in your search to better mankind. She thought as she huddled the blanket more securely around herself. Hazel eyes roamed over her nails. They were still yellowish, she hated that color. "What I wouldn't give for some nailpolish." She said to herself.

"Between you an' me, I don't think he likes you all that much."

I large grin erupted across his face as she spoke those words. He wasn’t here to make friends the Major anyways. He had an agenda and he didn’t need any unnecessary baggage to slow him down along the way. This other prisoner with the hidey hole intrigued him slightly. Somebody else was running a gambit and Alistair wanted in on it.

“You t-take care of i-it.” Alistair returned briefly from his current thoughts to answer the woman’s question.

Statement made, his mind quickly wandered back to its previous muse. There had been rumours floating about the hallways when he was making his way to Commissar Baum’s office. A small group of prisoners ha reportedly made and attempt to escape aboard the transport the Major and his men arrived on. Almost made it from the accounts he had heard. The small group had some serious skills to have made it that far with such little time to plan.


He doubted the two events were connected in any way but all the same the Major’s arrival had put the players into motion. It wouldn’t be long before all hell broke loose. Each scrambling for position atop the floating metal canister that allowed them to climb out the cesspool they found themselves part of for so many years. What they failed to identify is the brash daunting presence that waits nearby ready to plunge their hopes back into the soiled culvert they had just emerged from.

“We will retrieve the weapon in due time.” He caught himself in the faux pas. It-It’s safe for n-now. B-better in y-your ha-hands than mi-mine.”

Looking through the glass doorway that lead to the infirmary the giant man sat quiet as he kept a close eye upon the Major. It seemed he had found the young candidates he had mentioned. Still his presumptuous self, his business in the medical centre was bound to be brief. Alistair was sure the military man was on a tight schedule to pull all of this together and wouldn’t be wasting any time. After all they still had to rendezvous with his ship.

Glancing over his shoulder he couldn't help but noticed that the girl’s sewing techniques had improved drastically from their last attempt together. Alistair still sported the scar as a reminder of that night’s affair. She was just tying off the final few stitches and he hadn’t even noticed she had started. Had he really been the preoccupied with his own thoughts?

“I’ve go-got a b-bad feeling about all of th-this Inali. I d-don’t l-like him either.”

"No shit." Inali muttered, tapping the end of the stitch with a bit of a thoughtful frown. Before going to the Jakau Gamma Inali had learned how to sew at the age of fourteen. She could make her own clothes, though they were nothing elaborate. After her sewing machine broke she'd resorted to simply doing hand stitching. However, it didn't matter how many clothes one could mend. Human skin was something entirely different. The first stitch job Inali had done to Alistair had ended terribly, the second slightly below average. This time Inali was shooting for a simple halfway decent job.

"We, inmates on what is today's Alcatraz or Guantanamo Bay, are being enlisted into the army. The whole thing smells worse than the Jersey shore." She grumbled, idly wringing her hands together as she took a few steps away from Alistair. Her eyes shifted to the medical ward, it's glass doors exposing the events going about inside. Gray eyes narrowed at the Major, and Inali had managed to chew skin off of the inner left side of her lip as she drifted in and out of deep thought.

"Besides, it isn't as if I don't like the Major." Inali began, flipping back her hair and setting her weight onto one leg. "I don't have the time or the energy to dislike people. It's just that I'm not sure how much I trust him. I mean, he doesn't trust me and that whole thing is a two way street you know. That and he choked me when we first met. I mean, that doesn't exactly earn you brownie points as far as first impressions go."

In truth, Inali wasn't sure what point she was getting at. Hell, she didn't even have a point. There was too little information on the man to form bias on. And, Inali wasn't the type to pass quick judgment. She'd begun to admire the man somewhat, though his attitude towards her vertically abnormal friend proved to be off putting. Not to mention he was a crazy ass son of a bitch recruiting them on what seemed to be mission friggin impossible.

Turning back towards Alistair she gave her fair complexioned friend's sleeve a tug. For a moment she was going to inquire about the gun. However, with the idea of him having to be interviewed Inali didn't deem it a good idea to have a weapon on him. Alistair couldn't do much with a gun. As he said, it would prove to be more deadly in her hands. Still, that didn't change the fact that it would seem mighty suspicious of he was caught with a gun with being interviewed. Though, Inali suspected he was aware of that.

"Come on." Inali sighed, 'dragging' the man towards the doors. One would think that with glass doors the people within the ward would notice them coming. However, even when the pair walked in no one raised their heads. This was fine with Inali, seeing as she wasn't seeking attention. Not to mention she wasn't there to socialize so much as she'd been there to keep tabs on her large friend. Still, as the two stood there unnoticed the Major not holding a conversation with anyone in particular and the room rather quiet save for a groan from the wounded, Inali felt rather awkward simply standing there. Putting one hand on her hip and moving her head to the side face the wall with covering her mouth with the palm of her hand Inali let out an "Ahem" sound.

“Well what are you lookin’ at?”

Gril’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered “Charlie’s” query. She wasn’t really being hostile…maybe a bit defensive, but that was reasonable, considering their location. His usual sneering remark wouldn’t be appropriate, seeing as he’d have to put up with her for the next couple of months, maybe even rely on her to help keep him alive. Might as well approach this one lightly, and stand out later. Baby steps.

“Just another crazy fool off to get themselves killed, not that I’m in any position to talk really”

With a light chuckle Gril easily slipped into a friendly demeanor, slouching down in his seat and adopting a playful smile.
“Man, sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me. Just look at us. Ditching this wonderful little vacation spot of ours for some suicide boat. Man, and I hear the food in the military is terrible. No more steak and wine for us.”

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Charlie kept her mask of indifference in place with even neutral eyes as the man talked on. The greasy man was trying to be friendly at least, so as long as he stayed put and didn’t get too close to her, she supposed some light conversation with a future…colleague wouldn’t do any harm.

“Better there than here, though you might try some optimism, even if we’re living in a ‘the glass nearly empty’ sort of place.”

She commented lightly, and even snorted with a bit of restrained laughter at his later comments.

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Grinning ever so slightly Gril’s eyes lit briefly at her laughter. And the iron gate slowly opened... In times long past Gril would have considered viewing every person as an enemy or potential conquest an issue, but anymore it just helped him survive. He had just as much of a chance to be staring down the barrel of her gun than any other person they might meet, at least that was what he’d learned these past few years. Just the same she was doing the same thing, in her own way; a blank mask, unyielding of emotion, her light green eyes observing him neutrally, emotionless.

“Oh but I’m being plenty optimistic. It’s just hard moving on you know. I’d just got done finding that perfect little spot to sunbathe over by the east wall, and heck, I’ll have having to miss my weekly poker game with the guys. I’m afraid I might just get terribly lethargic before long.”

Following his words with another award winning smile (especially with the nice piss colored tint of his teeth) Gril’s mind churned. It had been a while since he’d had to deal with small talk. He’d ask Charlie her name, but he already knew it, and then he’d have to give his, which could be bad if word had gotten around in her short time here. The old him was dead, so there was no point in having to deal with his reputation. He might have to give himself a new name, though it wouldn’t be the first time. He’d ask her why the Major had picked her, but then she’d want to know the same thing, and laying down that he was there to help control all the convicts wasn’t a good idea either. Socializing was so complicated…

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If this was all they were going to talk about, Charlie was already bored with the conversation. This place was a shithole; anyone who’d spent any length of time here would know that. She had no desire to talk about it now that they were finally getting out. What was this guy’s name again? Grim…?Griz…? …Gril? Something like that. She’d generally avoided extended contact with anyone of the opposite sex, especially the kind that liked to sneak around.

“So, was there something you wanted, or are you just as bored as I am?”

She asked with an eyebrow raised.

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With a friendly smile Gril ignored the raised eyebrow.

“Just trying to make pleasant conversation. From the looks of it we might as well get acquainted, seeing as we’ll be spending at very least the next four months of training together. Besides, I figure this is a new life for all of us, best to start anew. Military life’s going to change all of us, one way or another, so we might as well start getting along.”

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“True enough.”

Charlie allowed with a sigh, as she stood up and stretched. She was almost looking forward to the exercise, but then again, this wouldn’t be the recreational kind she was used to. This was going to be hard core military stuff, and not to be taken lightly.

“So what bought your golden ticket?” Charlie asked, knowing full well none of them had been “randomly” selected.

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Starting with a thin smile Gril’s eyes suddenly snapped open in shock, his body tensing. His hand. His “golden ticket” to whatever suicidal crusade they’d all be attending had essentially been his over the top impaling of his own hand. His whole little monologue wouldn’t have gotten a second thought from the Major otherwise. And he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel his entire hand. He could move it, flex the fingers as easily as ever, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel the pain of the through and through cut, or the chill of the ever cold prison air, or even the light crustiness of dried blood. He just couldn’t feel it. Thinking quickly Gril returned to his previous carefree expression. He’d done an excellent job of keeping himself intact throughout his nearly eight year stay on Jakau Gamma, and as such he’d never even considered the type of infections and diseases that would thrive in such a place. In the short time since his visit with the Major it had already grown infected, or at very least something had taken hold fast enough to deaden the nerves in the entire area. He’d have to get it taken care of.

Returning to the task at hand, Gril smiled and raised the offending appendage, showing off the crusted blood and relatively clean cut through his palm.

“Let’s just say, I was sure to make quite an impression. On that note would you care to join me on a leisurely stroll to the infirmary? It wouldn’t be polite of me to bleed on the good Major’s ship.”

Damia listened to the doctor as she looked over her bruises, had she really hit herself that hard? The pain had felt the same to her but apparently she was wrong. She avoided eye contact as the doctor cleaned her cheek. She didn't feel comfortable being so close to people but Molly wanted the bruises looked at so that's what had to happen. "I suppose you could say that." Damia said with a slight smile, she found it curious that the doctor had almost been 100% correct.

"Thanks," Damia said taking the ice pack and doing as the doctor said, "I'm Damia Jones." She noticed that Dr. Bolivar seemed to enjoy her work, even if it was treating crazy inmates. "No thanks, I'm fine." Damia replied to Dr. Bolivar's offer, she didn't feel the need for water much these days, after awhile you get used to the amount of water the prison had to offer, even if the cold was dehydrating.

Doctor Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar placed the cup of water beside Tyler on a small desk, an identical glass in her other hand. She didn't urge him to drink it, nor did she force it into his hand. Whether he drank it or not wasn't her concern for the moment. The doctor set down the twin cup onto the counter next to Damia in a similar fashion. Despite refusing the drink earlier, she brought it out in case her mind changed. Water might even do her some good.

"Alright, miss Damia," she announced as if to force the name into her memory, "it's been ten minutes. You can take a break with the ice. We'll put it back on in another ten."

The doctor took the ice pack from the young woman and lay it on the counter by the cup of untouched water. Neither of the two patients had said a word for quite a while now and Doc Bolivar was displeased with the calm silence in the room. Nothing but the quiet groans of treated patients and a deafening silence filled the room, and she was discontent. The rush Tara Bolivar got while dealing with several injured patients at once had excited her earlier, and, now that the job was done, she found herself terribly bored. No wounds to treat, no legs to sever, no arms to sew back on, and no missing limbs to regrow. Life was simply too boring without a little bit of blood and excitement.

Tara Bolivar watched him as he entered, his head turning rapidly in examination of the infirmary. A man, late 40's by the look of him, with all the appearances of the military, through and through. The six foot tall man's acute eyes ended their inspection of the room and rested on Tyler.

"Well" said the Major, standing aside and holding the door open, "Still alive boy?"

If the military was here on Jukau Gamma visiting this hell-hole of a prison, they'd officially reached the lowest of the low. Yet here they were. It was obvious that the man knew Tyler, which meant that he hadn't just came here because it was such a hot vacation spot. The fact that he was interested in at least one of the inmates in this godforsaken prison had to mean that he wanted something from them. They weren't just scraping the bottom of the barrel anymore; they had gone far past it.

Two figures arose silently from behind the man in the doorway. The first was a hulking man of monstrous size, an injured beast leaning against his companion for support. To the doctor, his appearance was completely foreign to her. She'd never seen him before (if she had, she wouldn't easily forget a face like that) and she knew that there was no way he could be a Provost, though he had the air of someone who wasn't just your average inmate.
The second figure, however, was a familiar one. Inali Vercona. One of the many whores of the prison, she'd found her way up to the doctor's infirmary many times for STD screenings and the like. Doc Tara Bolivar pondered the crude definition of 'whore' that she'd given the inmate. There was no doubt that she was one, but Doc Bolivar had met with and treated hundreds of inmates. Forgetting names and faces of useless criminals was an easy task, yet Inali had a name and a face that was more memorable than the rest. If anything else, her fake-pregnancy schemes seemed to amuse her from time to time.

A small cough awoke the doctor from her thoughts. Dazed by her own analyses, she had said nothing for a few minutes of awkward silence. Regaining her composure, Doc Bolivar pulled her attention back to the real world and stood up with a straight back and curious eyes. The 34 year-old prison physician walked with purpose toward the trio disturbing her workplace.

"You three," she reached up to brush away loose tangles of shineless black hair, "can I help you?"

She glanced over the two male members of the group and let her eyebrows raise as she focused her attention on the woman with coffee-brown skin.

"Back so soon? I do hope you're not "pregnant" again," the doc smiled with a tease of familiarity.

Her eyes locked onto the critically injured member of the group, the giant of a man, "Or maybe he's the one who's pregnant. He certainly seems to be in enough pain."

Cutting straight to business, the doctor moved to an empty bed and motioned for Inali to lay him down. Wasting no time, Tara Bolivar left the room, returning with an array of medications, bandages, and a needle that were placed on a small table next to the bed. She spared no glances in the direction of the newcomers as her fingers moved like hummingbirds in a meadow of flowers, preparing to work on the wounded mammoth.

Her eyes never left the work at hand as she called out to Damia, "Ten minutes are up. You can put the ice pack back on now, Damia, and don't forget to at least try to drink some water."

"So, my good sir," Doctor Tara Astraea-Izar Bolivar turned with the needle in hand, looking at Alistair in the eyes without wavering, "may I have your permission to help you?"

Tyler growled when the Major spoke to him, "Damn right I'm still alive. If I died from something like that, I wouldn't be me. Now," he turned and grabbed the Major's collar, "What the hell is the deal with this mission? What's the criteria for recruitment? And while I'm at it, why didn't you put one in my skull earlier?"

((I feel like sh*t for this post, I honestly do, but if this doesn't go up I don't think the Major can do anything and I'm not holding up the line anymore. Peace))

A vein twitched in Robert's left temple, as the long haired, feral inmate grabbed his collar. A sneer crossed his lips, as thoughts of the stains being rubbed in by those grubby hands, soiling his nice service uniform. The stress and frustration just boiled over at that point, as the jungle fighter shoved his hand inside of of his greatcoat and drew forth the Mark IX pulselaser pistol. In a moment of savage fury concealed behind a disapproving face, he stuck Tyler with the grip of the weapon, repeatedly, until the savage let go.

"You'll keep your hands to yourself" he growled right back at the inmate, "You've already met the first criteria to come along but so haven't many in this place. You've also met the second criteria, which was coming to my attention. You don't get mission details until I give them out and I didn't let the Commissar have your brain sliced up because you interested me. You keep getting my uniform dirty and you'll stop being interesting. Now, if you want off this rock, you be a good boy, following along quietly and behave or I'll put you down like a dog."

Having little more works or time for the boy (whom was in need of a hair cut and would get one, should he have his way), Major Rogers stepped away from a potentiality deadly basketcase, keeping the pistol at his waist and a finger wrapped around the trigger. Before too long, he was standing beside Inali. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of the inmate (any sane person would have at least some little kernel of fear when facing these people) but that he wasn't stupid (or was he for even accepting this deal?). He couldn't put it pass these rejects to make an attempt on his life, even after he offered them a pardon.

Now he was relying on a whore to come to his aid, should the wild boy attack him. I guess that would convey some feeling of trust. Or maybe a gaint might help but he had doubts about him. Of course they had a stake in his living on this planet. If he was dead, then Captain Alaksei wasn't going to stick around much longer then it took to either recover the transport or destroy it. The old man wasn't going to end his career in the navy, taking the blame if inmates from a Provost control prison. No Sir. He was the only ticket off. Even if the entire prison rioted and was able to overcome the company of guards, the transport couldn't get away from here and the Federation would halt food shipments. They would all starve.

For the last few minutes of her life, Kendra had been drifting in and out of conciousness. The chills she had experienced were, for the most part, gone. She also felt conciderably warmer, whether that be because her body was done having its fit or because her body heat under the blanket was building up. Either way she had become quite confortable. Of course, this relaxation was short lived.

Never having been a heavy sleeper, the sound of footsteps brought her into complete awareness. The jingle of keys came after that, causing her to sit up and watch for the guard to arrive at her cell door. "Get the hell up, Lawrence." A rough voice announced, unlocking and opening the cell. "The Commissar wants you in the infirmary, now. Proper medical treatment shouldn't be wasted on a bunch of disgusting convicts, so they get you instead."

One pale eyebrow raised in suspicion. They wanted her to patch people up? Didn't they have an actual doctor who committed some grotesque crime locked away in there? Apparently not. The plus side to this little turn in events was the possibility of Kendra being able to steal a few choice tools if the chance arose.

Slowly, she moved off of her bed and out of the warm comfort her blanket provided. Her eyes watched the guard with caution, trying not to put her back to him. When she made her way out though, there was another guard standing to the side. Apparently she was in need of two big men to escort her to the infirmary. That's what they were too, big men. Both men were six feet tall and older, but beyond that there was nothing a like about them. One pale, the other dark. One more muscular, the other being fat. Neither were very nice to look at.

"Walk." The pale guard ordered, pointing down the hall to her right. Not being one to protest when two bigger men told her to do something, Kendra reluctantly turned down the hall, taking her time while walking. For the entire trip both men stayed at least a foot behind her, she checked every once in a while. Kendra had seen the look in their eyes before, not necessarily by them, but from other people who thought of her research to be "inhumane".

After taking a few right and a left or two, the trio stopped at a door. One of the men moved around her, avoiding possibly touching her like she was a leper, and opened the door, making a motion for her to get inside.

Kendra stood there for a moment, looking at all the occupants inside of the room. A giant man and his darker female companion, a doctor, a wild child, another woman, and some officer. Now that was a combination she wasn't expecting. "Dr. Kendra Lawrence as was requested sir." One of her escorts announced from behind her.

Tyler was smiling, despite the beating he'd just taken. He held up his fist, then slowly raised a finger, "Dude, you got nothing on me. You can chop off my arms, legs, dick, whatever you can get a blade or bullet on, and I'll still be the defiant little bastard I am. But apparently you need help for whatever the fuck this is, so I'm gonna be nice for now. But I swear to every god that don't exist, if you ever look down on me like that again, I'll prove who's higher up on the food chain."

To make his point, he rotated his hand until the palm faced the floor, then opened it. A single button with some cloth still attatched to it fell and pinged on the floor, reddened by the blood on Tyler's hands from both killing and helping people. There was one thing said in that moment, one solid thing that no one here would ever forget: Tyler was a killer, and he didn't break, no matter what.

When Bolivar's eyes fell on Inali the woman gave her a bit of a self mocking smirk. Her eyes almost said "Well, this is a bit out of our norm isn't it? Doctor Bolivar was one of those people, who like her, didn't seem to take herself too serious. Not to say she didn't have respect, but she sure as hell hadn't had a large stick large into her rectum. Most of the employees of Jakau Gamma had been too proud of themselves. And for what? Being in charge of the garbage of the universe? Being the kings of trash? It didn't make sense.

The only thing Inali could say bothered her about the woman was that Inali found every female to be pretty. They couldn't help it, they were the "fairer" sex. Though, there were quite a few cases of the unfortunately ugly. The fact that Tara didn't bother to do anything to herself to make herself look as pretty as Inali believed she could be quite peeved her. It was a sin to waste the gift of being female. However shallow the idea may have been.

"Not this time, as shocking as that may be." Inali snickered, walking her companion over to the Doctor. In due time the woman had helped her ease Alistair into a chair. Though, he'd been a little more than unhappy about this and under her breath the little woman had muttered "sorry" several times. Eventually though the giant was eased into an empty bed and Inali grasped his hand and gaze it a sympathetic squeeze as she flashed a half smile.

"I don't think the needle will be necessary!" Inali snapped looking up at the needle being held by the doctor. She did so specifically before Alistair had freaked out, for the man's eyes had taken on a wild look and a very low grumble had been emitted from his chest. A sound she didn't hear, but rather a vibration she'd felt. "Maybe some antiseptic." Inali muttered, motioning for Alistair to show her the wound. Begrudgingly the giant did so, a slight frown forming on his face looking none too happy about the position he was in. "I managed to patch him up real quick. Better than the last two times. . . .It just needs to be cleaned a little."

Due to the fact that Inali had patched the thing up relatively quick it was debatable that infection would start. Having endured her share of wounds and shot enough rounds, Inali knew that a lazer was so hot, that most bacteria was burnt out of the muscle and skin, and if treated soon enough wouldn't be infected. However, stitches could still get quite nasty. The scar Alistair had was proof enough of that. That little fun fact was learned when snowed in at her husband's lodge during their one year marriage anniversary. Guns soon became only second in Inali's heart to herself.

From behind Inali was able to hear the skirmish going on between the Major and some inmate she hadn't bothered to give a good look at. Normally she did, for she liked to be aware of the faces of potential attackers or something of the like. Even as the guy made threats, which probably should have frightened Inali more than they did, she hadn't bothered to look back. No need to concern herself with savages. And she would argue her the aforementioned statement to be quite true. For in her eyes Alistair was more of a predator than a savage. There was a definitive difference, such as that between a Komodo dragon and a Tasmanian devil.

"Hello Major." Inali muttered, not bothering to look up from her view of Alistair's hand as she inspected his claw like nails. She'd known that the Major was the one standing beside her just judging from the manner in which the conversation had halted and the distinct presence of a man at her side. Though, she could have gone so far as to say she'd felt the vibrations in the floor through her chair. But, Inali certainly wasn't looking to show off. She didn't need anyone knowing she was anything near smart or observant when she felt out of her comfort zone. Being a dumb whore was a good thing. No one overestimated a dumb whore.

"Dr. Kendra Lawrence as was requested sir."

Inali heard the voice of what she could only guess to be a guard announce gruffly. Kendra Lawrence. . . . The name sounded familiar. But, she couldn't seem to place her finger on it. Looking up Inali caught sight of an emaciated looking woman, looking rather sickly she seemed more like a patient than a doctor. That would be expected. She was in prison after all. Still, looking at the woman Inali could help but feel like she knew her from somewhere. Before she could dig deeper through her brain a voice cut through her thoughts like nails down the metaphorical chalk board of her mind.

"Dude, you got nothing on me. You can chop off my arms, legs, dick, whatever you can get a blade or bullet on, and I'll still be the defiant little bastard I am. But apparently you need help for whatever the fuck this is, so I'm gonna be nice for now. But I swear to every god that don't exist, if you ever look down on me like that again, I'll prove who's higher up on the food chain."

Inali furrowed her brow while biting on her slightly puckered lips. The face probably looked jocular, which was why she'd quickly stopped. The angry rant didn't make since at some points. Such as whatever you can get a blade or bullet especially since various arteries and organs could be pierced and shot to cause death. Inali knew a bullet or stab to the jugular caused death in roughly four heart beats. Thump-thump-thump-thump--- And then you pushed up daises. Roughly four seconds, give or take. There was also something to be said in the fact that it was also took the same amount of time for a male to die after having his genitalia chopped off. And, therein that fact also lied the fact that Inali had learned this first hand.

It was one of those things you had to know when you went off to deliver messages. Sometimes you shot them in the arm to ensure their cooperation, sometimes in the knee cap so they couldn't ever run away from you again, and then sometimes in the lung so you have just enough time to tell them just why you'd gone out of your way to kill them. Ah, the things you learn when you marry into organized crime. What fun she'd had.

“That would perhaps be wise.” Charlie said looking over at his bleeding hand, and wondering how she’d missed it earlier. It seemed a bit hard to miss now that it had been pointed out to her. The brutal wound made her look at her own bleeding hands, mere scrapes in comparison, but open wounds none the less. In the interest of avoiding infection and potentially loosing some fingers (which would make holding a wench, much less a gun, quite the difficult task.), she decided it might be to tag along.

“Sure thing.” She drawled, following him towards the infirmary. The walk wasn’t too long, and they soon found themselves watching a somewhat strange scene. Crazies, that’s exactly what this mission needed, she thought sourly. At least it appeared the Major could hold his own she commended slightly impressed. Charlie was from the cut that believed respect was earned not freely given, and the Major was starting to gain some.

“I miss something here?” She asked, eyes narrowed as she stepped through the infirmary doors, and stood on the other side of the Major. “I’m thinkin’ one clear shot to head with that fancy gun of his might put and end to that problem of your’s pal, so cut the tough guy shit. The Major here’s our ticket off this rock. You do something stupid like jeopardize that one-way, and I promise it won’t just be the barrel of his gun your crazy mug’s gonna be taking punishment from.” Charlie said with acid in her eerily calm voice. If this crazy piece of shit did anything that interfered with her one shot to save her brother, she’d do worse things than what got her sent here in the first place.

Walking down the cold, echoing halls of Jakau Gamma’s prison colony Gril led the way to the infirmary. While the habits and tendencies he’d developed over the last eight years warned against walking with his back to his fellow former inmate, Charlie, he dismissed these thoughts, and even the raised hairs upon his neck, in favor of his new role. He was no longer Gril “The Sneak”, a weasel, a snake, and a coward, but someone that should be, and would need to be, respected. Yet as they came into full sight of the infirmary room these thoughts were quickly forgotten, as was the present state of his wounded hand.

Before him lay a medical room not only packed with those wounded from the rush in the prison courtyard, and likely from other smaller scuffles, but also a large number of other individuals, many representing a far superior degree of health to their fallen brethren. His eyes flitting from person to person, his mind digging from file to mental file, he quickly sized up the group in front of him. The Major, of course, stood near the door, not far from a blonde of average height, observing the small pot of insanity. She must be new, for Gril was sure he’d never seen her before….

Dude, you got nothing on me. You can chop off my arms, legs, dick, whatever you can get a blade or bullet on, and I'll still be the defiant little bastard I am. But apparently you need help for whatever the fuck this is, so I'm gonna be nice for now. But I swear to every god that don't exist, if you ever look down on me like that again, I'll prove who's higher up on the food chain."

Repressing a familiar sneer Gril’s eyes were quickly drawn to Tyler “Kid” Briggs. Having been a resident of Jakau Gamma for maybe a year longer than Gril himself this boy had spent nearly half of his life in this hell hole. He was a nut, a killer, and a loose cannon. His simple, violent mind could be useful, or he’d have to be put down….or in the line of fire, either way. Yet Gril’s attention was soon drawn from the wild child to the interesting young lady he had just entered with; Charlie.

“I miss something here? I’m thinkin’ one clear shot to head with that fancy gun of his might put an end to that problem of your’s pal, so cut the tough guy shit. The Major here’s our ticket off this rock. You do something stupid like jeopardize that one-way, and I promise it won’t just be the barrel of his gun your crazy mug’s gonna be taking punishment from.”

The cold, calculating, and dangerous calm of Charlie’s voice was music to Gril’s ears. Not only did it show there was something dangerous, or at least confident, behind those light green eyes, but she was definitely interested in leaving Jakau Gamma for more than the usual reasons. This was personal to her, and Gril sure as hell be finding out what it was as soon as he had the chance. What fun.

As his eyes glinted and a thin smile split across his lips at this new development Gril’s eyes soon flitted across the other active participants in the room. There was the hulking mass of Alistair, another long-timer like Gril. If the sheer size of the man wasn’t enough to tell Gril to keep his distance, his reputation had been more than enough. He was said to be a cannibal, and embodied the meaning of the word ‘dangerous’. To his side stood Inali, the whore. What was left of the values and ways of the man Gril had once been despised every form of prostitution and the selling of a body, and the idea of one women whoring out another repulsed him. Just the same he knew she was resourceful, intelligent, and had the giant’s ear. That, and the look she’d just shot Tyler bespoke complete contempt for his words, so perhaps there was some fire within her Gril had never considered.

Damia was also off to the side of the little infirmary, keeping to herself to the time being. She’d already been accepted into the mission, and must be behaving. He’d have to investigate her a bit more closely as things went on, after all, the Major must have seen something in her that would make her useful, both to the mission, and in turn to Gril.

His attention slipping from one potential pawn to the next the good doctor was the next to enter Gril’s gaze, if only for a moment. He’d never really seen her, as he’d done an excellent job of avoiding injuries. Pretty girl, interesting that she’d taken a job at this little hellhole considering how capable she was said to be. And that was the end of his little list….the rest of the people in the room either weren’t worth noticing, or he didn’t have much of a knowledge of, either because he knew them by reputation rather than by face, or because they were too new to have gained his attention. Interesting group the Major had pulled together though, assuming that Alistair and the Kid were coming along to shake things up.

What an interesting bunch…..

Breaking back into his new character of friendly and respectable addition to their little bunch of crazies, Gril walked through the clear infirmary doors, moving in close to one of the guards and whispering lightly in his ear.

“Go down to records and get me a file on everyone in this room who can still walk, someone should already be down there and have some of them…go!”

Ignoring the Provost’s surprise at being ordered around by an inmate Gril approached the Major, coming in off to Charlie’s side. Considering most of the group seemed to be hear he might as well get things going on his end, after all, a few of these people had been here long enough to know Gril the spineless Sneak, so he might as well go about killing that image as soon as possible.

“Well hello again my good Major. Alexis Illaertes, reporting for duty. I must say this is quite an interesting bunch you have here.”

Lazily throwing up a mock solute Gril’s eyes briefly took in the many faces before him, his mind churning, looking for any hint of a reaction. Considering that a pardon under a fake name was rather useless, there was no point in using his false one any longer, especially considering that he no longer wished to maintain the reputation “Gril Robinson” entailed. Gril…Alexis…would have to become a completely new person in the eyes of Alistair, Damia, and Tyler “Kid” Briggs, if he was going to be able to control their extreme personalities…

His sweeping gaze ending upon the prison’s resident doctor Alexis raised his left hand, clearly showing the large cut to his small audience.

“I believe you’re the person to talk to about this?”

His little entrance over Alexis moved over to the doctor, his controlled, open movements projecting a friendly and passive nature.

“Afraid the things already infected. Caused by a rough shank, completely through and through. I can move the fingers just fine, but I can’t feel a thing. Heat, pressure, pain, nothing. It’s my first real wound since I got here, so I imagine I was an open target for this sort of thing.”

With a friendly smile surrendered his hand to the doctor. He’d always taken an interest in medicine, but had never really spent a great deal of time on the subject. He might have to start picking up things like pain killers and antibiotics considering the things that might be in store for all of them after their brief training…

Rogers was contemplating just shooting Tyler, to prove that even a defiant little wild boy could be turned into a mewling bitch, given enough low power laser rounds to his guts (a sick little twist to the new Mark IV's, developed for interrogating Tarnakian prisoners, whom could be called tough-sons-a-bitches to a man. This low settings, instead of sending a beam of energy slicing through you, would only cook a few few inches or fractions of an inch at a time), when reinforcements arrived. It was Charlotte and that ratish fellow Mr. Robinson, whom now introduced himself as Alexis Illaertes. It was Charlotte (whom was not going to be called Charlie, not by Rogers), whom won the most brownie points, as her little threat conveyed the most appreciation for his well being.

"They are" said the Major, returning the sloppily salute with a crisp one, "Aren't they? I see you have already met Charlotte. I also plan on taking Damia there and this creature, who has yet to name himself. I think I'll call him Boy. We also have Inali and Alistair, that will be joining this little mission."

"You know Alexis" said Robert, the wheels turning as he watched the man that promised to hold the entire mission together request medical treatment for his hand, "I am concerned over the startling rate of injuries around here and we haven't even left the prison yet. How in hell, are you lot going to withstand training for a behind the lines operation? I'm going to have to steal an entire hospital's worth of doctors and nurses to keep everyone in full health and hold them hostage on at the training facility. It be a shame too, think about all the people who will have no one to look after their sick babes or scrapped knees. I know that Inali has shown to have some medical skills but she will need to be training as well, not looking over everyone else's cuts, sprains and other wounds."