1ST QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: WARDEN DEBRINA BRICKLEMEYER’S OFFICE:
“The contractors you requested have arrived, but I have concerns, sir,” stated Billma.
Debrina looked up at her coordination assistant and frowned. The mousy, Caucasian young lady was a mere twenty-four years old in Earth Standard Time, yet she still wasn’t broken in. The brunette with the outdated bowl cut still didn’t understand her place.
The little mouse was dressed in her pink vest over her white uniwear along with matching pink slacks and pink boots. Pink wasn’t a power color, but it was the precursor to red, which most certainly was.
Debrina, herself, was a power Caucasian, thirty-eight E.S.T., of medium build and height, 170.18 cm/63.5 kg to be exact, light-brown to hazelnut hair in a power bob, brown eyes, with the degrees and competence to match the demanding career of running the Confederacy’s largest unicohabitationary prison.
Debrina was dressed in her white uniwear, the matching white shirt and underwear in one uniform color, and over that uniwear was an identical dress to Billma’s, but in form only. Debrina’s outfit was red, the power color, and only those with power could pull off red, regardless of their ethnicity.
Power was for the elite, and the elite were for ruling, because they were superior. That was all that mattered.
This was why, of course, Billma was somewhat of a thorn in the side. The younger woman was little more than a child in Debrina’s eyes, and she often verbalized opinions that Debrina did not care for. Debrina would sometimes fantasize about having the young mouse taken to the Discipline Square to receive a standard inmate corporal for insubordination, but unfortunately, Billma was a free citizen, so that was off the table.
“You know I don’t have to listen to any of your concerns, Bill,” frowned Debrina. “I’ll hear what you have to say, but I doubt I’ll change my mind.”
“I-I know, sir,” said the young woman nervously.
“Out with it,” ordered Debrina.
“The three major points you wanted me to go over,” said Billma. “The information you needed…”
“Spit it out, Bill,” said Debrina in growing frustration. “And if you’re talking about Bainbridge, I don’t consider him or his little group a ‘major point.’ They’re a minor nuisance, and I’ve dealt with all of them anyway.”
“Uh…but…” verbally stumbled Billma. “That’s just one thi—”
“This is about the contractors, isn’t it?” asked Debrina.
“Y-yes,” said Billma meekly. “They’re Echelon Fundamentalists…”
Debrina rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.
“Who cares!” she said as she threw her hands in the air.
“The majority of terror attacks around the Confederacy are from Echelon Fundamentalists,” argued Billma quickly. “You have them working on the power core…”
“And?” asked Debrina. “No one knows Echelon like the Echelon Fundamentalists.”
“But they don’t believe in unicohabitation,” protested Billma. “Everything they do is segregated. They don’t believe men and women should live together in one space. Also, they don’t believe that a woman should be in charge of a prison that houses men…”
Debrina waved her off.
“They don’t have a say in the matter,” she said firmly. “I’ve already sent a rotating security squad detail and schedule to Power and Energy. We’ll have no trouble from the Echelon Fundamentalists. They’re contractors anyway. They get paid for this.”
“But…” began Billma.
“Enough!” scowled Debrina. “We have sexual suppressors in the inmates’ food! They called them contraceptives in the old days…That’s more than enough to eliminate any differences of cohabitation. Unlimited intercourse…with consent, of course…no marriage, no reproduction. You know the rules.”
“I…I uhhh…” began Billma.
“Repeat the rule of marriage to me,” frowned Debrina.
“M-Marriage is prohibited as it goes against the natural order of genetic propagation,” said Billma.
“The rule of reproduction?” asked Debrina.
“Reproduction is for the genetically superior only,” stated Billma. “A license must be obtained with all credentials verified.”
“Exactly,” said Debrina. “These overgrown toddlers get food, habitation, basic entertainment, and all the sex they want…They’re all in prison for a reason, Bill. This isn’t a luxury resort. They’re failures of society, and they will be treated as such.”
“Y-yes,” stammered Billma.
“Now, what were your other two concerns?” asked Debrina.
She had a good idea what the little mouse’s two other concerns were, but she wanted Billma to believe that she was willing to listen…even though her decisions were already locked in.
“There’s…There is the ‘Project,’” said Billma.
“What about it?” asked Debrina. “The Project is so important that we have some of the greatest minds on it. It’s going to revolutionize everything.”
“It sounds inhumane,” said Billma. “But that isn’t—”
“Oh, I knew you would say something like that!” huffed out Debrina. “They’re prisoners, Bill! They have no future! Once the project is in full swing, we’ll finally weed out their worthlessness!…They might even be able to live successful lives again…or at least be repurposed as indentured servants for both household and commercial use.”
“Y-Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” stammered Billma. “The nanites are having an adverse effect on the virus, and the results are—”
“I don’t need to hear the details,” scowled Debrina. “We will continue to work on The Project until it succeeds. End of story.”
“Yes, but it’s dangerous!” blurted out Billma. “If something happens to the core, ventilation will reset, and that includes the labs, which means ‘The Project’ will spread throughout the prison immediately! Everyone will die! Even worse, they’ll all—”
“I don’t care,” said Debrina with a shake of her head. “You and I both have ‘The Protocol’ injection, which the prisoners do not. If something happens to the prison population, that’s for the State to clean up, not us. We’re free citizens. We’ll just leave.”
“That’s so cruel, though,” whined Billma. “There are children amongst the prisoners…”
“Born outside of license when there’s the occasional sterilization fail,” finished Debrina with a shake of her head. “They don’t have any future in society. They’re few and far between…And don’t think I don’t know about the illegal marriages, either.”
“But—” began Billma.
“Are you finished?” asked Debrina.
“It’s just that…” started Billma. “It’s just that, this is setting up to be a chain reaction of unwritten errata for future historians. You have Echelon Fundamentalists working in the core…”
“You worry too much,” said Debrina with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s just switch to the third ‘thing.’ Is this about Bainbridge?”
“Y-Yes,” hesitated Billma.
“Classy!” ordered Debrina. “Bring up Merrick Bainbridge’s file!”
A huge screen on her southern wall lit up with Bainbridge’s information.
“Age 50. Male. Caucasian,” read off Debrina. “All of these troublemakers in Bainbridge’s little group are Caucs, Bill. How much damage can they do? We may not separate the sexes, but we do separate by ethnicity, and the Caucs have the lowest incident rate. Do you know who has the highest incident rate?”
“I already know, but that doesn’t matter!” protested Billma. “He’s up to something! His following is getting larger every day, but only his inner circle knows what’s going on! It’s spreading through the different ethnic divisions!”
“He was an author, a playwright, and an actor,” frowned Debrina. “He was mildly famous, he got into debt, he couldn’t pay it off, and now he’s here. The end. There’s nothing else to that story. Besides, I separated him from that woman he was with…What was her name?”
“Penna Hellby,” said Billma.
“Classy!” ordered Debrina. “Bring up Penna Hellby’s file!”
The big screen on the southern wall switched to the new file.
“Age 48. Female. Caucasian,” read Debrina. “She worked in lab research…Wait, is she the attempted snitch? Was she working here?…Oooooooh…She was the one…”
“Yes,” said Billma. “She was going to expose ‘The Project.’”
“Her arrest came down from Command,” said Debrina with a shake of her head. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“I know, but together, their little group—” started Billma.
“Separate them,” ordered Debrina.
“Wh-What?” asked Billma.
“I’ve heard Bainbridge has been playing dentist with her,” said Debrina.
“I don’t understand,” said Billma.
“He’s been filling her cavities,” smirked Debrina. “Just separate them. They’re not allowed to interact with each other until they start behaving. Double their correction time. Set up Bainbridge and Hellby for corporal punishment if they’re caught interacting. Punish Hellby first and make Bainbridge watch. Offer him to take her punishment for each violation after that. If he says no, she’ll willingly ditch him. If he says yes, he won’t be able to take repeated punishment. If they want to make happy, they have to play nice. We’ll see how long this lasts.”
Billma lowered her head and stared at her own shoes, her eyes wide as those dark orbs flicked from side to side.
“I…That is…” she tried to say.
“Just get it done,” ordered Debrina.
The young mouse looked up and stared at Debrina with strange eyes.
“Yes, sir,” said Billma.
*****
1ST QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: MID-QUARTER: OBSERVATION DECK: CAFETERAYARD: SECTION 7: CAUCASIAN DISTRICT:
The prisoners below walked from the food lines to their designated tables, mingling sometimes, throwing insults at other times, with security in full ivory guard armor patrolling through them, like flecks of dandruff sprinkled throughout bits of mange-ridden orange hair.
This was an ironic image, of course, since the prisoners were practically bald, their hair shaved close to their heads in order to prevent lice.
Ugh…
“Animals,” grimaced Debrina. “They’re just animals. All they do is eat, sleep, copulate, and defecate. It disgusts me that society has them at all.”
“But they’re people,” said Billma. “They’re human beings. You could end up there…I could end up there…Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“I’ll never end up there,” scowled Debrina. “But I can say that you may end up there if you don’t grow a thicker skin, Bill. You need to pull out your balls and let them drop, because the universe doesn’t work the way you think it does. If you’re too soft, you get eaten alive.”
“I-I don’t…Yes. Yes, sir,” said Billma.
It was clear the little mouse was going to be a problem unless she was corrected, and soon. Debrina had a punitive plan for this, but she’d hold onto that until Billma’s behavior became intolerable.
As it was, Debrina’s train of thought was interrupted by a swiftly growing incident down in the cafeterayard.
A particularly large and burly male prisoner in the standard orange jumpsuit began to yell at another prisoner, a female prisoner, a female significantly smaller than he was. What was exchanged was unintelligible, as the observation deck here was soundproof for obvious reasons.
Too many animals deafened the ears with all of their clicks, whistles, and shrieks. It was maddening down there.
The male struck the female with a fully closed fist. The female went down, twitching on the chrome plates that made up the cafeterayard floor, her face a cast of agonizing pain.
Security was on this man in a heartbeat. He was the one now beaten, beaten to the floor with several metal rods from every direction.
Debrina watched this with fascination. She normally did not come down here, but something had called her today, so she had come. Now she had the opportunity to do something novel, something that was a learning opportunity for young Billma.
“Did you see that, Bill?” she sneered. “This is what I’m talking about. Now observe.”
She raised her left arm and spoke into her service band, the small chrome band wrapped around her left wrist.
“Take that animal to the Discipline Square,” she ordered. “Postpone other disciplinary shows. He has priority. Let’s make room for a larger seating for emphasis. Strip him in front of everyone, put him up on the posts, give him the standard six, and then it’s time for a sausage grill. Take the shock bar to him, two seconds. Let’s make him wish he hadn’t been born with more muscular potential…Take the female to the closest Medical.”
“Yes, sir,” came a male voice from over the line.
“That…is…” began Billma.
Debrina gave her a cold stare, but this time she was surprised by Billma’s reply.
“That’s fair,” said the young mouse. “He should be removed from general and placed in solitary, though.”
“No,” sighed Debrina. “Oh, and you almost had it, Bill. You are improving, though. We leave him in general so that he’ll do it again, and once he does, we make the punishment worse. More lashes and a longer shock to his genitals will set him straight.”
“But another…a…another woman gets injured,” protested Billma. “That man has done this before.”
“He has?” asked Debrina.
She lifted up her wrist and spoke into her service band one more time.
“Change of order,” she said forcefully. “Give that animal the standard six plus two, and then give him the shock bar, four seconds. I want to smell the grill. Those blue balls need to turn red. I want this pig’s chestnuts roasted over an open fire. If he transgresses again, tell him I’m personally going to apply the shock bar to him. He’ll wish he’d never been born when I do it.”
“Yes, sir,” came a male voice over the line.
She turned her attention back upon Billma.
“And?” asked Debrina. “You’re worried about the women? Society has demanded that men and women are equal, thus our unicohabitation…Any concern of forced coitus is nulled by the punishment of permanent sterilization. This is near-perfect protocol. The male baboons you see below keep their privates private if they wish to keep their ‘privacy.’
“That means relations are entirely consensual without procreation. It’s a perfect society for these sponges.”
“But men are stronger than women,” argued Billma. “There’s still violence. That woman down there is seriously injured.”
“You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, Bill,” explained Debrina. “This ape will be punished accordingly. He will learn. That’s how you train these beasts.”
“I…Oh…Okay,” said Billma meekly.
“I’ve used the corporal whip before, you know,” said Debrina wistfully. “It’s most effective on the females, which is why the males have to have further incentive with the shock bar. I’ve only had to authorize the shock bar once on a woman, but she had been a former military grunt turned professional fighter…That had been ugly, let me tell you. I’d simply rather just authorize the whip for the females. It keeps them in line at a near one-hundred-percent accuracy.
“I have my own whip in the office, you know. It has a beautiful boiled red leather grip with ten feet of supple red leather coil. Four strips of knotted leather at the tip give it finesse and that satisfying “CRACK” I so love. You’ll have to get your own, of course.”
“I…I don’t know if I want my own,” said Billma.
“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to order one for you,” said Debrina. “We’ll arrange a punishment session for you. You need to cut your teeth in the Discipline Square, Bill. It’s time to take off the training wheels…I’ll order it in pink.”
The young mousy woman stared down at her own pink boots for some reason. Her mannerisms were baffling at times.
It didn’t matter.
Debrina stared up at a monitor on the west wall and gave a firm command.
“Classy,” she ordered. “Suspend ads in the Caucasian District Section 7 Cafeterayard. Display doctrine for the next ten minutes. They can choke on that.”
The change was instantaneous. The many giant monitors along the tops of the cafeterayard walls switched from their routine product advertisements to the standard Confederacy prison doctrine. The first sign read “OBEY” in big black block letters. Of course, Debrina knew those doctrine signs by heart. After one minute, the next sign would read “MARRIAGE IS AGAINST THE NATURAL ORDER,” and one minute after that, the next one would read “PROCREATION IS FOR THE GENETICALLY SUPERIOR.” More doctrine would follow, but this was the standard protocol after an incident.
Debrina smiled in spite of herself. The doctrine was always enjoyable.
She scanned over the crowd below and spotted two women who immediately stood out, if only because of a vague familiarity. One of these women was in her late thirties, while the other appeared to be an older teen. Both had barely any hair, of course, but that hair was auburn, an auburn that was adjacent to the standard prison orange they were wearing.
“Who are those two?” asked Debrina. “They look familiar to me.”
“Oh, that’s Barrina O’Doyle and her daughter Cana,” said Billma. “I know, because they’re in the Bainbridge file.”
“Bainbridge!” spat Debrina. “I should have known…Classy! Bring up Barrina…Barrina?…Barrina O’Doyle’s file.”
The monitor on the west wall brought up the file in question.
“Age 39. Female. Caucasian,” stated Debrina. “Smuggler and hacker…Smuggler and hacker, huh?…Convicted of moving contraband and hacking port terminals at various stations…Interesting.
“Classy, bring up the Cana O’Doyle file.”
The monitor brought up the next file with complete accuracy and without hesitation. There was obviously more than one Barrina O’Doyle and Cana O’Doyle out there, but Classy had been listening and assessing, so that was good. Classy didn’t have a verbal response, however. As far as underlings went, verbality was for Billma alone.
“Age 18. Female. Caucasian,” stated Debrina. “Electronics and holographics expert. Musical genius…Ugh…Music…Convicted of vandalizing government property…This happened after her mother was arrested and convicted…Amusing.”
“Those two are in Bainbridge’s circle,” said Billma. “I’m telling you, he’s up to something.”
Debrina ignored that little bit of paranoia.
“Has he been receiving discipline?” she asked. “Did you follow my orders?”
“To the letter,” said Billma. “Hellby received six lashes. Bainbridge elected to take the next six. Hellby took the next six after that.”
“That’s excell…Wait, what?” asked Debrina. “You’re telling me Hellby took the next six?”
“Yes,” replied Billma. “They appear to be taking turns.”
“No, no, no,” said Debrina. “No, that won’t do. Switch all future punishments to Hellby. Authorize the shock bar for each punishment.”
“B-but…But you just said you wouldn’t use the shock bar on a wom—” started Billma.
“Did I stutter?” asked Debrina. “Auth…orize…the shock bar…for…each…punishment. Don’t make me repeat myself. Bainbridge is going to learn. If he won’t learn by his own punishment, he’ll learn by hers.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” nodded Billma.
Debrina stared down at the two women in the cafeteria.
“And those two,” she scowled. “If they’re going to fraternize with Bainbridge, then separate them. They’ll only be united in the Discipline Square. Have Barrina O’Doyle watch as her daughter receives a corporal. A single viewing will change her mind, but keep them separated afterwards. They’ll be begging for a change after that. We’ll have them write a formal apology to me. Make sure it’s done.”
“Yes, sir,” said Billma, but there was a hint of sadness in her tone.
The young mouse was definitely going to have to toughen up. Well, Debrina still had a plan for that, but now was not the time.
*****
2ND QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: WARDEN DEBRINA BRICKLEMEYER’S OFFICE:
Debrina looked up as her little mouse of a coordination assistant walked in.
“Yes, Bill?” she asked.
“Are you aware of the growing incidents in Section 13, Afro District?” asked Billma.
“I’ve heard some things,” frowned Debrina. “Why?”
“There have been incidents of our contractors wandering into Section 13 from Section C, the power core, and starting mob fights,” stated Billma. “Also, we’ve had three reports of sexual assaults on the female inmates there.”
“Hmm…” replied Debrina as she screwed up her lips. “Have the perpetrators been identified and apprehended?”
“Yes, but the Fundamentalists are demanding they be handed over to them for their own punitive measures,” said Billma. “Plus, there’s a rumor the Echelon Fundamentalists are armed. They’ve been issued their own weapons for some reason. Did you authorize this?”
“We’ve worked out a deal with them,” said Debrina. “They’re allowed their own regional government as part of the contract. You will turn over the accused to them so that they can carry out their own justice. It’s not our problem.”
“But it is our problem!” said Billma, her face aghast with some unidentifiable and ridiculous expression. “Don’t you see the problem here!”
“What problem?” asked Debrina. “The only problem I’ll have with them is if their work isn’t completed by the end of the year. We need the core upgraded. That’s why they’re here.”
“B-But…But their leadership will just give these men a slap on the wrist!” exclaimed Billma.
“That’s their culture; I don’t care,” said Debrina. “Just add some security down there at Section 13 and restrict access to security only.”
“O-Okay,” stammered Billma. “That sounds reasonable.”
“It is reasonable,” said Debrina.
“But those women won’t receive justice,” said Billma. “There’s still the matter of that. Permanent sterilization is—”
“Permanent sterilization is appropriate punitive justice for inmates only,” replied Debrina flatly. “It’s mostly used on men. I’ve only had two cases where I’ve used it on women. I won’t go into the details of that though. Needless to say, that form of punitive procedure is for the worst of these animals. Actually, the worst is execution, but that’s only for in-prison murder. Those tried and convicted of murder are sent elsewhere, not to New Alcatraz. This zoo is for the regular baboons.
“The Confederacy has these laws because they are effective, Bill. You’d be wise to accept that. It’s all we can do to control these animals. Leave the Fundamentalists to their own laws.”
“But what if they are the animals?” asked Billma.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Debrina with a roll of her eyes. “They’re free citizens.”
“But they’re armed now,” said Billma, an expression of slight fear on her face. “What if they hold the core itself hostage? They’ll have control of the entire prison! They can demand anything they want!…And what if they overload the core!…My God…The Project…”
Debrina wanted to smack the young woman, but she settled for sighing instead.
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” scoffed Debrina. “Not all Echelon Fundamentalists are terrorists. At some point, they have to have normal lives.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to arm them!” said Billma. “Why won’t you listen to me!”
Okay, this was getting out of hand. It appeared Debrina was going to have to bring some discipline down upon her little mouse, at least by the next quarter. Honestly, it was getting tiring.
“We’ll be fine,” sighed Debrina. “Is that all you had for me? You need to get back to your duties.”
“No,” said Billma with a shake of her head. “Bainbridge’s inner circle is getting larger. My spies tell me there are now two more members.”
“Bainbridge,” muttered Debrina. “I should have known. Who is it this time?”
“That…I’ll bring that up, but…his influence is growing,” warned Billma. “I’m telling you, he’s planning something!”
“Classy, bring up the first new recruit for the Bainbridge file,” ordered Debrina.
The monitor on the south wall brought up a new file.
“Arca Elsa,” stated Debrina. “Age 30. Female. Caucasian. Expert in reviewing and falsifying identification…Has permission to own two pet cats. Does artwork on the side. Arrested and convicted for identity theft…Okaaaay…Hoo, she’s tiny. She’s smaller than you, Bill. She can’t weigh more than forty-five kilos. She looks like a human twig…
“Bring up the next file, Classy.
“Edor Elsa. Age 28. Male. Caucasian. Ex-soldier turned arms dealer. Weapons and mechanical expert…Arrested for…arms dealing, naturally. Has been seen with a female who is not in Bainbridge’s crew.
“What’s the point of this, Bill?…Wait…Are these two related?”
“They’re half-siblings,” replied Billma.
“This is an easy fix, then,” said Debrina. “Keep them separated. They’ll both be dealt with separately. First though, why does Arca have cats? Who allowed this?”
“Uhhh…I think the previous warden did,” stated Billma. “That was four years ago. One of the cats is old, though. I did some digging. Her older cat is very sick. I don’t think it has much time left.”
“Euthanize the sick cat,” replied Debrina. “Make her watch. She’ll get the picture. The younger one will remain alive as long as she behaves.”
“Oh…I…I don’t…” stumbled Billma.
“Is she doing any art?” asked Debrina.
“Y-yes…” stammered Billma.
“Take away her art supplies after euthanization,” ordered Debrina. “What about the female who’s been seen with the younger brother, Edor?”
“But…Why not just take away the supplies?” asked Billma. “Why kill the cat?”
“Did I ask for an argument?” asked Debrina. “I swear, talking to you is like pulling teeth. Just do it…And one more thing…What about the female who’s been seen with Edor?…Dammit, you know I hate repeating myself, Bill.”
“The…The woman with Edor is unrelated to Bainbridge’s circle,” replied Billma. “She has nothing to do with it.”
“Good,” nodded Debrina. “Send her off site.”
“Excuse me?” asked Billma.
“We’ll transfer her,” said Debrina. “Any woman this young man is interested in gets transferred off this rock. They can sit and spin somewhere worse. This will keep happening until he learns.”
“I-I don’t understand,” said Billma with a look of confusion. “Why do that? You’ve used the Discipline Square with everyone else. Why do this? Isn’t transfer way more difficult? Transfer is way more difficult.”
“Because he’s ex-military,” sighed Debrina. “Use some common sense, Bill. Standard punitive discipline will not work on him, so send his ‘girls’ off-site…No snake holes, no problems. He’ll learn…Also, make sure he watches the euthanization of Arca’s cat. If he witnesses her tears, he’ll shape up very quickly.”
Billma took in a long sigh and then released it. Her dark eyes were wide for a second, almost rebellious in look and feel, but then they went back to being their normal vacuous selves.
This, of course, privately enraged Debrina. A little discipline was definitely in order. She was going to have to arrange things soon.
*****
2ND QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: MID-QUARTER: OBSERVATION DECK: RECREYARD: SECTION 9: CAUCASIAN DISTRICT:
Debrina leaned back in her observation chair as she people watched. It was her favorite pastime, especially here, where she enjoyed the eccentricities of the undisciplined masses’ behavioral quirks come to life.
“Look at them, Bill,” she scowled. “It never ceases to amaze me how so many resources get wasted on these overgrown monkeys.”
Billma simply nodded in response. There was an unreadable expression upon her pretty face, something akin to…resignation? Helplessness?
It was difficult to tell.
“They’re people, though,” said the young woman after a few seconds.
Her quiet response was actually expected. It was the usual with her. Her resistance was breaking down over time, though. Perhaps Debrina was rubbing off on her.
Debrina turned her attention back upon the prisoners walking around the recreyard, trampling the carefully planted grass there, enjoying the fake sun from the screens overhead.
She nodded toward a group of women milling over by the side of the artificial brick wall on the east side.
“Look at them,” she said again. “The females are just as bad as the males. They huddle together and lay out their own plots and drama and social circling…I’m surprised they don’t fling their own feces at us.”
“They’re there for their own protection,” argued Billma. “They group together like that because of the different groups of men who could corner them.”
“Do you even see the security out there?” scoffed Debrina. “Those men can do nothing without my say-so.”
Security was all over the recreyard, of course, but this didn’t actually prevent incidents. If it did, there would be no shows over at the Discipline Square.
Debrina’s eyes narrowed upon one individual within that little east wall group. That individual was recognizable almost immediately.
It was Penna Hellby.
“There’s Bainbridge’s little flesh pocket,” snarled Debrina. “What is she up to?”
“She’s speaking to the newest member of Bainbridge’s circle,” replied Billma. “That young woman there.”
“Hasn’t our routine discipline been enough?” asked Debrina in surprise. “Her back and buttocks must look like a trading route by now. Have you authorized the shock bar like I ordered?”
“Y-Yes,” stammered Billma. “I’ve also personally watched her punishments. They are…traumatic.”
“And?” asked Debrina in growing anger. “They are still recruiting members for their little gang? Are you telling me Bainbridge is still preaching his nonsense?”
“Y-yes,” said Billma weakly.
This was both surprising and infuriating. Nevertheless, punitive discipline was the way to stamp this out.
“Who is this new one?” frowned Debrina.
“That woman is Langa Freeburn,” nodded Billma.
“Classy, bring up Langa Freeburn’s file,” ordered Debrina.
A monitor off to her left upon the east wall lit up with Freeburn’s file.
“Age 25, Female, Caucasian,” stated Debrina. “Expert pilot. Arrested and convicted for illegal reproduction, reproduction without a license. The baby was separated and is with an aunt. The child is a free citizen. Visitation is allowed bi-weekly, twice a month.
“Hmm…Such a shame his mother is a whore.”
“She’s a person, though,” argued Billma. “Shouldn’t she be given some respect?”
“That’s what they’d like,” snorted Debrina. “They threw their ‘personhood’ in the trash when they turned their backs on society.”
“But what if that happened to you?” asked Billma. “Anything can happen. The universe is full of surprises.”
Debrina choked out a sharp laugh.
“There is no way I’m having kids,” she said with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter. Eliminate visitation of Freeburn’s child. She can see her baby once she disassociates from Bainbridge and Hellby. Also, get me a security detail for travel. We’ll head to the Discipline Square today. I’ll be personally laying down some lashes upon Hellby. Make sure Bainbridge is there to watch.
“By the way, I’ve special ordered your whip. It should be coming in within the next few months.”
“I…I don’t really want a whi…W-Wait…You’re taking her visitations away?” asked Billma.
Debrina turned to view the look of slight horror upon Billma’s face. This was insulting, of course, yet one more insult to check off from the little mouse…Well, she’d put an end to that next quarter. Everything would be set and ready to go by then.
“Of course, I’m taking her visitations away,” frowned Debrina. “What else do you think will work on her?…You hit these animals where they’re weakest, Bill. When you have a man and a woman together, you punish the woman. Men have a natural instinct to protect women. When you have a woman and a child together, you take away the child. Women have a natural instinct to protect their children…It’s not quantum physics, Bill. Figure it out.”
“Oh,” said Billma, but she looked downcast.
“Don’t give me that look,” scowled Debrina. “Be useful. Give me the rest of your report.”
“It’s about…uhhh…It’s about ‘The Project,’” said Billma nervously.
“What about it?” asked Debrina.
“I think we seriously need to reconsider hosting this experiment here,” said Billma.
“And why would that be?” asked Debrina.
“It’s…It’s too dangerous!” blurted out Billma. “Plus, it’s inhumane…There, I said it.”
“I received reports of an incident in the labs,” frowned Debrina. “Is this protest because of that?”
“Y-yes,” said Billma weakly. “But it’s more than that!…The Project doesn’t work! At least, we have years before it will, but with the Fundamentalists here—”
“The Fundamentalists have nothing to do with The Project,” said Debrina unhappily. “What are you getting at, Bill?”
“The Project…” breathed out Billma. “It doesn’t work in its current state. The volunteer from the Asian District…It…It’s horrifying. The…The review log is horrifying. He turned into…It was like he had no blood. He was just a withered corpse of a man with white eyes. His eyes were bulging out of his head, but he was still moving, screaming…He was like a husk of a man. It was like a corpse that had no soul. He attacked without hesitation. He had to be terminated by security.”
“Those eggheads in the lab will fix that,” said Debrina firmly. “To achieve a nano-lobotomy without intensive surgery has been a longstanding goal of the Confederacy. We need to put this technology into play before our enemies do. With this, we’ll have a quiet and peaceful prison population.
“Do you understand the implications of this? No more wild animals to watch over. Everyone will be domesticated. We can even program pleasurable activities for them. They can enjoy all the little things in life, and there will be no need for the Discipline Square…I’d hardly call that inhumane.”
“Is that what you’d want to happen to you?” asked Billma. “To just…To just go to a corner and jerk off because a program told you to?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” waved off Debrina. “And why do you always compare these things to me? We’re free citizens. We’re above these wastes of flesh.”
“That isn’t the immediate issue, though,” said Billma. “The Echelon Fundamentalists…There have been seven more incidents of sexual assault by them.”
“I thought security closed off the Section 13 access point,” frowned Debrina.
“My spies tell me the Fundamentalists have a trafficking network now,” said Billma. “They’re bringing in women from every ethnic division. The seven assaults are simply the ones that have been reported. There’s no telling how many women have been assaulted by now! These people are a ticking time bomb, sir! We have to get new contractors!”
“Why would we do that, Bill?” asked Debrina. “The core will be finished upgrading by the end of the year. Let them handle their own discipline.”
“You don’t understand!” said Billma, a desperate whine in her voice. “It’s not just the assaults! They openly despise us! If they purposefully overload the core, the ventilation systems reset, containment fails in the labs, and the entire prison will be overrun with these…these Project husks in a matter of minutes! Everyone will die!
“No…No it will be worse than death. Far worse.”
“First of all, we are inoculated,” said Debrina. “If anything happens, we’ll take a direct route to my personal escape shuttle. We are fine.
“Secondly, security will be inoculated as per schedule. Have you been setting that up?”
“That’s been significantly slowed,” frowned Billma. “We…you and I…were given the original inoculation, the one that works. It’s been taking time to recreate the working vaccination because the original clinician on the project is gone.”
“Oh?” asked Debrina. “Where did he go? We need those inoculations, Bill.”
“You are giving her punitive lashes in the Discipline Square today,” said Billma unhappily.
Debrina thought about this and then shook her head.
“Well, we’ll have to get outside help then,” she replied.
“I don’t know if we have time,” said Billma with a noticeable scowl.
There it was again, that look. Oh, this little mouse was definitely going to be disciplined, and it appeared the next quarter would be just the right time to do so.
*****
3RD QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: WARDEN DEBRINA BRICKLEMEYER’S OFFICE:
“You called me, sir?” asked Billma.
It was time, of course. It was time to lay down a little discipline for the little mouse.
“Yes,” replied Debrina. “We’re nearing the end of your probationary period, Bill, and I’ve found that…Well, I might as well just come out and say it…I’m afraid you’re just not cutting it here.”
“Wh-What?” stammered Billma.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go,” said Debrina bluntly. “I’ve been looking for a replacement.”
“Wh-What!” exclaimed Billma in a visible panic.
“Your attitude simply isn’t shifting to a more productive stance upon prisoner management,” frowned Debrina. “I’m afraid as of now, you are unemployed.”
“But…But you can’t do that!” said Billma. “You can’t!”
“I can, and I will, effective immediately,” stated Debrina. “Pack up your things. You’re on the next transport out of here.”
“But…But I don’t understand!” protested Billma. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked!”
“I didn’t ‘ask’ anything,” sighed Debrina. “I gave you orders, of which, you continue to fight me on, so to put it bluntly, you’re out. What I need is a ‘yes woman’ who doesn’t argue. I need someone who simply follows orders. That’s what a coordination assistant does.”
The young woman was all panic now.
“What am I going to do!” asked Billma. “I can’t lose my job now! I have too many debts…Oh, my God…I’ll end up here!”
The young woman began to cry, though it was a silent weeping. Still, it was pathetic watching those fat tears roll down her pretty face.
Debrina held her forehead in her right hand and then shook her head. This, of course, was just the first part of her plan. It was time to bait the hook.
She lowered her hands to her desk and shook her head again.
“Look…I don’t know what to do for you,” she said unhappily. “I suppose I could give you another chance…If you can last long enough to get past your probationary period…”
“Yes, yes!” nodded Billma. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you say! I’ll do it without argument!”
“I don’t actually think that’s good enough,” said Debrina with another shake of her head.
“No, no, I will!” begged Billma. “Please, give me a chance! Please!”
Debrina smiled inside. This was going to be easier than she had first estimated.
“Okay, Bill,” she shrugged. “We’ll do this…I’ll give you a choice. You can either take it or be on the next transport out.”
“I’ll take it,” nodded Bill. “I…I will…”
Debrina stood, opened her bottom desk drawer, and grabbed the coil of her special red whip. She lifted it just high enough for Billma to view it, and the wide eyes of this girl…The expression, the open fear, was priceless.
“Wh-What are you doing?” stammered Billma. “Wh-What’s that for?”
“Well, you can either leave on the next transport,” said Debrina slowly, “or we can march down to the Discipline Square right now. You’ll be stripped, put up on the posts, and take six lashes from me. We’ll make a proper viewing of it in front of whatever lucky crowd happens to wander in.”
Billma’s dark, teary eyes were like saucers.
“But…But I’m a free citizen!” she protested. “You can’t do that! You can’t do that to me!”
“I know,” shrugged Debrina. “It has to be your decision. If you decide to, we’ll log it in as your decision to receive a punitive corporal.”
“But why?” asked Billma, her expression aghast with horror. “Why do this?”
“So you can see how effective punitive discipline is,” explained Debrina. “A few lashes across your naked back and buttocks in front of a crowd will change your mind in a hurry. Only a masochist and a voyeur would be enthused by this, but not for long. They’d break down eventually.”
“But, sir…Debrina…” begged Billma. “I…I already told you I’d follow your commands to the letter without argument! I will! I swear!”
“I know you will,” said Debrina with a grim smile. “This will ensure that you do. Of course, you can always accept termination of employment…”
That little mouse broke down into piteous sobbing. Debrina had to wait a full minute before speaking again.
“Does this mean you’re going to accept termination of employment?” she asked.
Billma shook her piteous little head “no.”
Debrina gave herself a wicked little grin, but she held her outward composure quite well.
“Well, then,” she said as if she were exasperated. “Let’s get this over with. We’ll have a security detail escort us to the Discipline Square.”
Billma nodded as if she were agreeing, but Debrina knew, of course, that the little mouse was most certainly terrified.
“I’ll call security,” said Debrina matter-of-factly. “A little advice…It helps to scream into the bit…or so I’ve heard. You can bite down into the bit as well. I’ve heard that also helps.”
Billma nodded once more as she continued to sob.
Debrina had to hold her excitement in check. This had been a long time in the making…Oh, this was going to be fun.
*****
3RD QUARTER OF NEW ALCATRAZ ON HALEG 7: 2826 E.S.T.: END-QUARTER: WARDEN DEBRINA BRICKLEMEYER’S OFFICE:
Billma walked into the office.
“Yes, Billma?” asked Debrina.
She looked over the little mouse. There were still red circles under this young woman’s eyes, and she’d lost a little weight, but that was perfectly understandable.
“There’s been a report of a disturbance,” said Billma quickly. “Something’s happening in Communications.”
“What?” asked Debrina. “What’s going on?…We can’t have anything disrupt Communications…Classy…Bring up Communications.”
The monitor on the south wall lit up with a surprising image.
It was the top of the Communications tower. The tower itself was a full kilometer high, the thick square metal block a true marvel of engineering.
That, however, wasn’t the issue. It was the small group of prisoners at the top of the tower who caught her immediate attention. It was a good thing that surface was shielded, or that little group would have been fried like an egg, but that wasn’t the problem.
The camera zoomed in to reveal…
“Bainbridge!” hissed Debrina. “That’s Bainbridge!”
The middle-aged man with closely cropped dark hair and grey at the temples stood before a microphone, his dark-blue eyes flashing with a look of determination. Beside him stood Hellby and the older O’Doyle, both ready to speak into the microphone as well…
Or perhaps not.
The younger O’Doyle stood with a white bass guitar strapped to her, and the newest recruit, Freeburn, stood nearby with a lead guitar ready to go. Off to the left of them was a set of drums, and sitting behind those drums was the tiny form of Arca Elsa, drumsticks in her tiny hands, and off to the right of Bainbridge was the athletic figure of Arca’s half-brother, Edor, on the synthesizer.
This was all offset by prison orange, of course.
“The concert’s starting,” said Billma quietly.
“What!” demanded Debrina.
“It looks like they’re going to play music,” said Billma matter-of-factly.
And they did.
The whole thing looked ridiculous, but once the music picked up, it picked up from everywhere, and then the situation was no longer ridiculous but disastrous.
A steady electronic beat started, the music played, and then the singing began.
“Music!” hissed Debrina. “How did they get up there! Where did they get that equipment!…Billma, shut down that noise!”
“I can’t,” said Billma firmly. “It looks like someone’s hacked the system.”
“What!” yelled Debrina.
Oh, she was definitely losing her cool.
“Get security up there now!” demanded Debrina.
“On it,” said Billma. “I told you they were up to something.”
“What did you say!” demanded Debrina.
“Sorry, sir,” said Billma coolly. “I spoke out of turn, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not!” spat Debrina. “Get a technical expert online! I want that noise shut down!”
“On it, sir,” said Billma.
The little mouse swiped over the electronic pad she held in her left hand.
“They’re working on it, but the system’s now encrypted,” said Billma.
“Bainbridge!” yelled Debrina. “I’ll have him castrated! I’ll do it myself! I’ll have his balls in a jar on this office desk!”
Classy’s monitor switched to view the giant monitors on the high walls of Communications, and those switched on to reveal prison doctrine, but that doctrine did not last long. The large black block letters on a white background that spelled “OBEY” scrambled suddenly and turned into “RESIST.”
“How dare he!” screeched Debrina. “I’m going to flay the skin off of his ass for thi—”
She never got to finish that particular threat.
Klaxons erupted as red warning lights flashed along the office walls.
“What’s going on!” exclaimed Debrina. “Bill!”
“I-I-I don’t know!” stammered the young woman. “This isn’t part of…I don’t know!”
The music continued to blast as the klaxons’ shrill warning broke through the beat.
Billma looked upon Debrina with horrified eyes.
“My God!” cried the young woman. “The Fundamentalists have overloaded the core! I knew this would happen! I knew it!”
“What?” asked Debrina.
All of her anger disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced with…confusion. Just sheer utter confusion.
“The lab’s containment has been breached!” screeched Billma. “The Project is spreading through the ventilation system as we speak!”
The music continued to play as the klaxons continued to blare.
“N-N-No!” stammered Debrina. “No! NO!”
She stared up at one of the vents in her office. A heat picked up inside her as her skin began to itch.
She opened her top left desk drawer and removed a kinetic heat pistol. She inserted a clip and listened as it snapped in place.
She raised her left wrist and spoke into her service band as she gripped her pistol in her right hand.
“I need a security detail up here now!” she shrieked.
She looked up and stared directly into Billma’s terrified eyes.
“We have to get out of here!” she cried.
The klaxons shut down, but the music continued to play.
“What the…” said Debrina. “Why is the alarm off?”
“That’s intentional,” said Billma quickly.
“What do you mean?” asked Debrina.
“I-I-I mean Bainbridge must have set it up to shut off so that…so that the music could keep playing without interruption,” said Billma.
“It doesn’t matter,” grimaced Debrina. “We have to get out of here! Where is your firearm? Where is security!”
“You don’t understand!” protested Billma. “If The Project has spread all throughout the prison, then there isn’t any security left!”
“Nonsense,” said Debrina as she waved her off. “There’s no time for arguing! We’ve got to move now!”
She looked up at her own Classy monitor for the last time. Bainbridge, Hellby, and O’Doyle were standing in front of their large microphone, all of them singing, all three of them clapping their hands to the beat.
“Deadbeats!” hissed Debrina. “Why haven’t they been affected by The Project!”
“They’re up on top of the Communications Tower!” said Billma quickly. “Maybe that’s slowing down the infection; I don’t know, but…they’re broadcasting across the galaxy! If they don’t succumb to the infection, they’ll spread their message everywhere. If they do change, everyone will see what our government’s been up to…We’re screwed either way!”
“Come on!” growled Debrina.
She took the initiative and opened her office door. She did not take five steps before she was rushed by her own personal secretary, the once-living Shanarina. This young woman was now a husk, her once peach-colored skin withered and dried like a pitted prune, her eyes bulging white orbs, the mummified lips pulled back to reveal the ivory pegs of her teeth, the body skeletal in comparison to the royal blue outfit surrounding it, an outfit identical to Debrina’s own, only different in color.
Debrina screamed as she lifted her pistol and reflexively pulled the trigger. The heat rounds ripped through the screeching husk, but there was no blood…Only a light-brown dust puffed out from the still-moving corpse, but the damage was enough to put the thing down.
Shanarina fell to the chrome tiles below, half her head missing, but the inside of her skull was nearly empty; her brain looked like the aforementioned pitted prune.
Debrina felt like throwing up, but she held it in. She was nearly hyperventilating anyway.
“It’s that fast!” she cried out in the form of a question. “I didn’t know it was that fast!”
“I told you the kind of danger we were in!” exclaimed Billma. “Why didn’t you listen!”
Debrina really wanted to put a round in her little mouse at that moment, but she resisted the urge.
“Let’s just get to the shuttle!” she growled.
“Neither one of us knows how to pilot!” cried Billma. “What are we going to do!”
“If the power core is in overload, we’re going to have a nuclear explosion very soon,” said Debrina in her most sarcastic tone. “I don’t think it matters anymore if we can’t pilot a ship. We’ll get out and push if we have to, so quit bitching and get moving before I put a heat-charged slug in your leg! If you’re not going to be useful, you can at least be useful by slowing down those things for me as bait!”
She was seriously considering aiming and pulling the trigger, but that thought flew off into space as the door to the outer office slid open and a security detail burst inside.
“Finally!” cried Debrina. “Where in the hell were you!…Wait…”
She stopped her oncoming tirade long enough to inspect the security group. The first thing she did was look for odd movements or behavior, because she did not want to be “rescued” by a squad of husks in full security gear.
That wasn’t what held her attention, though. What grabbed her eyes first and foremost was the odd makeup of the team. Two men led the squad, obviously, but the other five were female, one of them only 160 cm or so in height. That one was so slender, she looked like a younger teen, like a thirteen-year-old or something.
They were all armored from head to toe, armored in the security white armor with black joints, of course, with the helmets’ black faceplates giving them that classic “faceless” look Debrina knew was identity protection for security from the inmates, but still…this was not the issue.
The issue was pretty obvious. She could tell five of them were female, because the females were all wearing the classic “bumped” ivory female breastplates, and the armor could not hide the size of their hips…This was unacceptable.
“Why is the B-Squad here?” asked Debrina, her tone rife with indignation. “Where is everyone else! Why in the hell do we even have a squad like this!”
“There isn’t anyone else,” said the lead male over his helmet’s transcom. “We’re all that’s left, sir.”
“Seriously!” objected Debrina. “Why is there even a security detail like this! What in the hell is going on!”
“We normally just guard the shipyard and maintain vetting for arriving and departing ships at the port,” said the lead male. “Our best security was doing what they do best, but we’re still here. We came when you called, because there was no one else left.”
“Y-You came,” choked out Billma. “Y-You came anyway!”
“We’re not going to leave anyone behind,” said the lead male.
“Get it together, Bill,” chastised Debrina. “Now I don’t have to shoot you…This is…This doesn’t really make sense…Why are none of you affected by The Project?”
She knew all security knew about The Project already, as there had been a long list of them waiting for the inoculation.
“We were the first inoculated with the old vaccine,” said the lead male. “We were the control group. We were considered the most expendable, so we were tested first.”
“Well, at least that’s something,” frowned Debrina. “At least we have some security left, though it may not be much…”
She looked them over. The lead male held a heavy kinetic shotgun, the other male had a large assault shock-trooper kinetic rifle, and those typically fired homing rounds, a real weapon, while the females all had light kinetic shotguns, save for the little one, who had some sort of mini-sub-machine gun.
“Well, at least you have military-grade weapons,” said Debrina. “We need to get out of here now! Back to the port! My personal shuttle is there! We need a pilot, though.”
“We have that covered,” said the lead male.
The music continued to play, but this only annoyed Debrina.
“Let’s get out of here,” she scowled.
“You came anyway…” wept Billma.
“There’s no time for your inane weeping!” yelled Debrina. “Get us out of here, sergeant!”
“Yes, sir,” nodded the lead male.
One of the females opened the outer office door, and they were on their way. The little security squad surrounded Debrina and Billma, putting them in the center of their group, a tactical decision that Debrina most certainly agreed with.
If her security was anything, they were well trained.
“We’re going to have to cut across the main access points of each section to get to the main port!” yelled the lead male, the sergeant. “We’re lucky the Caucasian Division is next to the main port!”
It wasn’t luck. It was design. There was a reason the warden’s office was in the Caucasian Division. Fewer incidents meant fewer attempts at assassination.
She stared down at her service band.
Sixty-five minutes left until nuclear release.
Debrina looked up at the monitors lining the walls. They weren’t playing advertisements anymore, no. They switched between the new warped doctrine and the sinister band on top of the Communications Tower.
The screen showed Bainbridge, Hellby, and the older O’Doyle singing into the mic, clapping to the beat in time.
Debrina turned her attention forward. The sergeant and two of the females in front opened up fire with their shotguns as a small group of husks rounded a corner. Those dustbags went down, and they were on their way again.
“Bainbridge!” yelled Debrina over the music. “He must have had something to do with this! I know it!”
She looked up at another large wall monitor. That one flashed “MARRIAGE IS AGAINST THE NATURAL ORDER.” The screen warped after a few seconds, and then the message became “MARRIAGE IS SACRED.”
“That bastard!” screeched Debrina as she jogged within the small squad protecting her.
Billma, her little mouse, jogged next to her, but the young woman’s face was a mask of pure fear.
Debrina took a fateful glance at her service band.
Fifty-five minutes until nuclear release.
They passed another monitor, and this one showed Freeburn and the younger O’Doyle playing on their guitars, both rocking out next to each other.
“Those ungrateful little bitches!” hissed Debrina. “I should have whipped O’Doyle harder! I could have turned that little witch’s bare ass into a prison doctrine. I’d have displayed it as a message in the cafeterayard between ads!
“Dammit I should have spayed Freeburn, that little whore! I’d have cut them out myself! I’d have her balls in the same jar as Bainbridge’s!”
The two female guards flanking her opened up fire as more husks came from two hallways at an intersection, the prison orange contrasting with the spreading clouds of dust as the kinetic heat shells shredded the corpses like so much desiccated pork.
She stared down at her service band.
Forty-five minutes until nuclear release.
A monitor on her right displayed the little figure of Arca Elsa pounding on the drums for all the woman was worth.
“I should have euthanized both cats!” cried Debrina. “I was too merciful, dammit!”
The smallest security guard, the tiny female, was bringing up the rear. She turned and let loose a spray of kinetic heat rounds from her small SMG as a group of husks in prison orange appeared behind them. Heat rounds tore into the living dead, and those things exploded in puffs of more dust.
Behind those dust clouds appeared three white armored security guards, big males like security should be, but they charged in jerky, animalistic movements, the men unarmed and rushing forward like galactic linebackers with no brains between them.
“Armored husks!” screeched Debrina.
The walls their own security squad had just passed exploded outward and into the hall, eliminating the immediate threat of those affected security guards, but the explosions and debris caused their own little female security guard to drop her weapon.
One of the male security guards, the one with an actual bona fide real military weapon, pushed the woman forward and opened up fire down a side hall at a horde of husks. This rifle was impressive, as it reduced that crowd of prison orange into a cloud of light-brown dust.
Debrina caught a glimpse of a monitor screen on her left. Upon that screen was the colorful image of Edor Elsa playing the synthesizer, his ridiculous prison-orange jumpsuit emphasized by the lights over his head.
“I should have whipped him anyway!” she hissed. “I should have taken the shock bar to his military balls! Let’s see him arms deal his way out of that!”
Her eyes took a turn toward her service band.
Thirty-five minutes until nuclear release.
They kept up the pace, but the cardio was murder.
She looked up at a monitor at the end of the hall. It read “PROCREATION IS FOR THE GENETICALLY SUPERIOR.” That message warped and changed to “FAMILY IS OUR STRENGTH. CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE.”
“Dammit!” yelled Debrina. “Dammit all!”
An explosion rocked the hall behind them.
“The core is overloading every power system!” yelled the sergeant. “We’ve got to move!”
“Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!” screeched Debrina.
She looked up at another monitor as she jogged past it. This one showed at least a thousand husks in prison orange, some of those orange dots actually the white of security armor, all of those dots climbing the Communications Tower. They were like a wall of rising orange speckled with white, more and more appearing by the second as the husks climbed toward their intended target.
“Those idiots are still playing!” yelled Debrina. “They’re attracting every husk in the prison!”
“Those ‘idiots’ are saving our asses by being a diversion!” panted out Billma.
“Then there is karma!” panted back Debrina.
“Oh, there definitely is,” muttered Billma.
Explosions rocked the whole prison. It was like a series of mini-earthquakes as Debrina and her loyal squad reached the port entry. Next ahead was the long bridge, a narrow walkway that meant certain death if you fell from it, but there were guardrails, so there was that.
Debrina took a glance at her service band and felt her heart skip a beat.
Twenty-five minutes until nuclear release.
“Almost there!” called out the sergeant.
Several security guards in full white armor stumbled forward, some of them unarmed, some armed but with their strap weapons hanging uselessly at their sides.
“They’re husks!” yelled the sergeant. “Lay it down on them!”
“Lay it down on them?” asked Debrina. “That’s not very prof—”
She was cut short by several shotgun blasts.
The shots caused the guards to stumble and stagger, and one fell from the bridge, falling half a kilometer down toward the deeper sections of the prison, but the armored husks who had not fallen continued forward without stopping.
“Move!” yelled the other male, the one with the real military rifle.
He pushed aside the females and opened up fire, and those large rounds pierced the heavy security armor, the shots causing dust to blast out of steadily made holes in the back of each dead guard’s suit.
“Clear!” yelled the other male.
“Thank God we have at least one competent guard,” frowned Debrina.
The littlest guard, the small female, rushed ahead of the others until she reached the single port entry door. This particular door was for prisoner transport only, as the cargo doors were in another area of the port.
Debrina noticed the big black metal supply box the little female guard was wearing on her back.
“They gave her the supplies?” she muttered. “I guess she’s ‘The Little Guard That Could.’”
“She’s our way out,” replied Billma.
“What was that?” asked Debrina.
“Nothing, Deb,” said Billma.
“What did you call me?” asked Debrina.
But she was ignored.
The smallest guard swiped a key pass, and the single-prisoner transport door opened with a hiss.
“Everybody, move!” yelled the sergeant. “The core’s going critical! We’ve got to leave now!”
After a few tense minutes and another skirmish with dead security, they all reached Debrina’s personal transport. A couple of minutes after that, they were all on board.
Debrina winced as high Gs pushed her back into the seat she was strapped into. They hit orbit, and there they waited.
Debrina unstrapped herself as the long cone that was their ship began to spin its outer hull, generating artificial gravity. She silently cursed as she shook her head at the monitor that made up the “windshield” of this ship. Right now, that monitor displayed space and the planet they were orbiting, Haleg 7, below.
“Classy, bring up the Bainbridge band,” ordered Debrina. “I want to watch them fry!”
The image of the Communications Tower appeared on the screen. The tower was crawling with husks, those undead nightmares nearly at the top. The music played over the monitor, but Debrina could tell that the Bainbridge Seven’s music was coming to an end, the climax about to be reached.
The concert peaked at its final song on its ending verse, the husks rushed the players, and one particularly large husk, a male inmate, leapt at Bainbridge…
The big husk passed right through him.
“Wh-What?” asked Debrina in sheer surprise.
The husks dove at the band members, but those dust-filled corpses simply passed through each band member as if the last living inmates didn’t exist at all.
The song came to an end as a light appeared below the Communications Tower, that light rose, and then the feed cut.
“What just happened?” asked Debrina.
“The core went critical,” said the lead sergeant.
“No, Bainbridge and his little cronies…” said Debrina in shock. “They didn’t…The husks didn’t get them…What was that?”
“Those…” said the sergeant as he took off his helmet, “were holograms.”
Debrina’s dark eyes went wide as she stared up into the sergeant’s own eyes, or rather Bainbridge’s eyes, Merrick friggin’ Bainbridge’s dark-blue eyes.
“You!” she said in complete shock.
“Me,” replied Bainbridge.
There was a coldness in his eyes that immediately stopped whatever righteous anger she was going to put forth over this development.
It didn’t matter, though. An armored right hook from one of the women sent Debrina sprawling to the deck. She reflexively let go of her pistol, and it slid across the chrome flooring beneath her now-prone body.
The pain hit her a second later, and it was not pleasant. She was not used to such pain, that terrible sensation across the right side of her jaw, but it did not feel like she had lost any teeth or had broken anything, yet the pain was still present, and it was not appreciated.
She cried out as she turned over to stare back up at her assailants.
The rest of the security detail removed their helmets. They were all there, all of them, all of Bainbridge’s little group, even the tiny Arca, the “Littlest Guard that Could.” That little one snatched up Debrina’s pistol before she could even think to retrieve it.
It was, of course, that bitch, Penna Hellby, who had struck her. The look of fury on that woman’s face…It was disturbing, as if she had been the one who had just been wronged. The absolute audacity of this animal…
“I’ll have you flayed for this!” screeched Debrina.
She reached up to wipe something from her lips, and that’s when she discovered the blood on her fingertips.
“You bitch!” she shrieked. “You lascivious, conniving—!”
A swift armored kick to her stomach hurt like mad and took her breath from her.
The others had to hold Hellby back. It was clear this woman was nothing but a rabid dog at this point.
“Suck it in; bring it down,” ordered Bainbridge as he struggled to keep this beast of a woman in check. “She will be dealt with. She’ll be dealt with.”
“She killed all those people!” hissed Hellby. “The children! What justice do they get!”
“Billma…help…me!” gasped out Debrina.
After that last blow, it was taking a bit to get her breath back.
“Don’t hit her,” said Billma quietly. “Can’t she be turned over to the authorities? She should be turned over to them.”
The young mouse looked over to Bainbridge as if for approval.
It all clicked right then. It all locked into place, all of it, all of it at once.
“You!” screeched Debrina. “You did this, you…you…traitor!”
“We were going to leave without her help,” said Bainbridge flatly. “She offered to help us of her own accord…
“You see, Bricklemeyer, we knew who her spies were…We planted them.”
“No…” gasped Debrina.
“Did you honestly think she was going to remain loyal after what you did to her!” demanded Hellby.
“I taught her discipline,” growled Debrina as she slowly stood, found her footing, and faced these barbarians. “I taught her how to handle you wild animals!”
“All you taught me was how to identify injustice,” scowled Billma. “It’s you who are the most graceless one.”
“Oh, we could turn her over,” said Bainbridge coolly. “That would be a waste of time, though. They need someone to blame, so they’d either back her and scour the galaxy looking for us, or they’d make her the scapegoat and publicly execute her…
“Either way, she doesn’t learn a thing.”
“This pig is incapable of learning!” spat Hellby. “She had me tortured!…Let me take the shock bar to her, Mer! Let’s have a clam bake! I’ll roast off her little lady dick! She did the same to me over and over again! What goes around comes around!”
“Stop,” ordered Bainbridge.
“She tortured my daughter!” argued the older O’Doyle. “Let’s torture her and then throw her out the airlock!”
“We’re not murderers,” argued Bainbridge.
“She killed my cat!” exclaimed little Arca.
“I know,” said Bainbridge.
“She took my baby away!” cried Freeburn.
“I know that,” said Bainbridge.
This was getting out of hand.
Debrina had been angry before and rightfully so, but now she was feeling something she was not that familiar with…She was feeling…fear.
“Now…Now wait…” she said shakily. “Hold on…”
The smallest of the inmates, Arca Elsa, slung off the black box that was her pack, opened it up, and withdrew a rather small black and white cat from it. The twig of a woman then held up her cat and nuzzled its nose with her own.
“What do you want to do, huh?” she asked the cat in a ridiculous kissy-face voice. “Do you want to scratch out her eyes, hmm? Let’s scratch her eyes out.”
“N-Now wait,” said Debrina as she backed away. “I haven’t done anything wrong…I’m not the bad guy here!”
Edor Elsa grabbed her from behind and twisted her arms behind her back. She was firmly held in place now, and…this…this didn’t look good.
“Stop!” demanded Debrina. “Stop now!…You…You will…You’ll…You will turn yourselves in! Turn yourselves in, and I’ll see that you’re spared! You’ll receive a lighter sentence then—”
“Deb…” said Billma as the young woman shook her head. “Debrina, stop. You…You don’t have any leverage. I’m trying to help you…You’re making things worse…I don’t want them to kill you. Why can’t you listen?”
The young mouse held a severe look of disappointment mixed with pity.
This mix of expression twisted inside Debrina, though she did not know why.
“As a professional storyteller,” said Bainbridge calmly, “I believe I have a solution for this…It appears our gracious host is not going to learn anytime soon, so it looks like a lesson is in order, one that will…eventually…set her straight, and killing her is not going to do that.”
“Like what?” asked Hellby as she crossed her arms and glared at him.
“I had a couple of things stashed away on this boat before we took off,” said Bainbridge.
He walked over to a small-arms storage locker where locked firearms were normally kept, but he did not withdraw any such weaponry. No, he withdrew a small black device and a folded orange square of cloth.
He walked back over and planted the black device squarely in Hellby’s left hand. She held up the black rectangle and flipped a switch on it. It began to make a mechanical buzz.
“A razor?” asked Hellby.
Bainbridge unfolded the orange square of cloth, and it spread out into a typical inmate’s shirt, not one associated with the standard jumpsuits of New Alcatraz. No, this was intended for a different prison…Another square of orange cloth had been beneath it, and that one unfolded into a pair of pants. He held up both the shirt and pants, one article of clothing in each hand.
“I believe our first stop will be Ocarina Station for some necessary supplies,” said Bainbridge. “After that, we’ll head toward New Leavenworth.”
Hellby stared at him in confusion for a second, and then she grinned, a widening of lips and a baring of teeth that slowly came into existence across her previously enraged face.
“Mer, you beautiful genius!” she exclaimed.
“First, though, I believe I have a “thank you gift” for our helpful coordination assistant,” said Bainbridge.
He walked back to the arms locker and withdrew what looked like a coil of pink rope. He then walked over to Billma and handed her the strange thing.
“I believe this belongs to you,” he said firmly.
Billma took the rope with some confusion, but after pulling the coil out somewhat, it was clear that this strange gift was actually a leather bullwhip, a pink leather bullwhip.
“Oh…” she said nervously. “Oh…This is…Okay…”
“You’ll get a chance to break it in after we help our dear Warden out of her current wardrobe,” said Bainbridge with a grim smile.
Debrina looked between all of them, but it did not take her long to figure out what was going on.
“W-Wait!” she stammered. “N-No! You can’t do this! I’m a free citizen! I’m a free citizen!”
Billma stared down at the pink whip, raised her head, and then looked Debrina right in the eyes.
“I…see…” said the young mouse slowly.
“You have six good reasons to use that,” said Bainbridge.
The young lady stared down at the whip, looked up at Debrina, and then slowly nodded her head in compliance.
“I…Y-Yes,” said Billma. “Yes…Yes, I think I do.”
“Good,” said Bainbridge. “Now…let’s get this show on the road…Penna, if you please.”
Penna Hellby put forth a wicked smile. She let her strapped shotgun fall to her side as she switched the razor from her left hand to her right. She then held up the black razor in her gloved right hand and let it buzz.
“Hold this bitch steady,” said Hellby.
“N-No!” cried Debrina. “N-No, don’t! You can’t do this! I’m a free citizen! I’m a free citizen!”
The woman advanced upon Debrina, the razor buzzing away in her armored hand as Edor Elsa held Debrina firmly in place.
*****
1ST QUARTER OF NEW LEAVENWORTH ON PALOS 3: 2827 E.S.T.: MID-QUARTER: CELL BLOCK C-18: SECTION 4: CAUCASIAN DISTRICT:
“Hot tits is up to it again,” warned Gorman. “Sure wish I could see that sweet ass of hers again, Argie. Don’t matter, though. She’s throwing another tantrum.”
“Ugh…Okay,” replied Argus. “This got old the first time.”
They walked up to the cell. Argus stood in front of the thick, shatterproof plasti-glass and shook his armored head at the prisoner within. His face was hidden by the black faceplate of his helmet, but he knew that she knew what that shake of the head meant. That wasn’t going to stop her though.
Gorman held down the intercom button and nodded once at him.
“You gotta stop this, Hellby,” said Argus unhappily. “This isn’t helping your case. You’re not going to get any parole at this rate.”
“I’m not Hellby!” hissed the woman within the cell. “I’m not that lying bitch!”
This woman was supposed to be in her late forties, but she looked pretty good for being that old. Honestly, she looked about a decade or more younger than that. She had an attractive face when it wasn’t twisted into a sneer, and in another life, Argus may have made a pass at her, young as he was compared to her. She probably would have jumped at that.
Nevertheless, her personality was a big-time turn off. These tantrums were beginning to wear on him.
“What is it this time?” he asked. “Are we going to do this again?”
“I’m not Hellby!” insisted Hellby. “You have to listen to me! I’m Bricklemeyer! I’m Debrina Bricklemeyer! I was the warden of New Alcatraz!”
“Right,” said Gorman.
The man was probably rolling his eyes under that faceplate.
“I am!” exclaimed Hellby. “You have to run a DNA scan on me!”
Not this again.
“Look, I’ve told you this a thousand times,” said Argus. “We received your DNA clip when you were transferred here. You are one-million percent Penna Hellby. You need to quit this already. You’re just going to get whipped again if you keep it up.”
“I’m not Penna Hellby, you idiot!” cried Hellby. “I keep telling you that! I’m Bricklemeyer! I’m Debrina Bricklemeyer!”
Argus sighed. This was not going to be pleasant, but it was high time he informed her. Her crazy little worldview needed some correction anyway.
“Look, I didn’t want to tell you this,” he said, “because I know you’re crazy, and the rest of security knows you’re crazy, but this has got to stop…You’ve gotta stop sayin’ you’re Debrina Bricklemeyer, Hellby. Bricklemeyer is dead…She went up with everyone else at New Alcatraz.”
“I know New Alcatraz is gone!” hissed Hellby. “I was there!”
“No, you and Billma Anderson survived because you were already en route here for your transfer when New Alcatraz got lit up,” explained Argus. “Now, I didn’t want to tell you this, but you’ve got to stop saying you’re Debrina Bricklemeyer. It’s putting you in danger. If Bricklemeyer were alive, most of the galaxy would want her dead. She’s the most hated woman in history right now, and the inmates here? They take that shiz seriously, so you need to zip it with the crazy-daisy claims, okay? As much as you piss me off sometimes, I don’t want to see you get shivved by one of these goons out there…I don’t want to see you whipped again either.”
“I don’t mind,” muttered Gorman. “She’s got a nice rack. Nice ass, too. She’s got a perfect little pie down below for as old as she is. I like ’em bald, you know…Hell, I’d do her.”
Argus shook his head and screwed up his lips. Leave it to Gorman to go there. This poor woman didn’t need to be reminded of that public humiliation, and she certainly didn’t need the harassment.
Whatever the case, Hellby’s face twisted into confusion as she leaned her head to her own left. She was looking at him now as if he were crazy.
“Wh-What?” she stammered. “No…No, that’s not right.”
“Bricklemeyer’s not Miss Popularity, doll,” explained Argus. “Her incompetence got a lot of people killed, and the families of those poor inmates ain’t happy. Anderson exposed everything…It’s been the talk of the walk for a while now…You really need to quit with this nonsense.”
“No…No I don’t believe that,” said Hellby as she vigorously shook her head in clear disbelief. “No, you’re lying…Yes, that’s what you’re doing! That’s what this is!…This is all Bainbridge’s doing, isn’t it! You…You’re a spy!”
Argus sighed again. It was like chewing glass with this woman.
“Merrick Bainbridge was killed at New Alcatraz like everyone else who was there,” he said. “Thanks to his death, though, they’re thinking about banning debtor’s prison, so there’s that. Personally, I’d never heard of the guy before that, but hey…he got his fifteen minutes of fame, so there’s that.”
Hellby’s face immediately transformed into a perfect picture of rage.
“That conniving son of a…!” she hissed. “Just give me a DNA scan, dammit! I’ll prove to everybody who I am, and then I’ll set them all straight!”
“The place was running illegal experiments!” said Argus in exasperation. “Even if you were Bricklemeyer, you’d be arrested as a war criminal!
“I mean, come on…The Confederacy is still bombing the hell out of New Paradise for what the Echelon Fundamentalists did, so not only was Bricklemeyer a war criminal, she was also aiding and abetting terrorists…Now calm your tits.”
“No!” cried Hellby. “I need a DNA scan! I have to defend myself! I have to tell everyone what happened! I’m a free citizen, dammit! I’m a free citizen!”
“You need to quit your BS, is what you need to do,” said Argus. “You behave, and I might put in a request for a scan.”
“You will put in a request right now, you idiot!” cried Hellby. “Do your job, you incompetent moron!”
Argus sucked in his breath. Attractive or not, this bitch was starting to piss him off.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said angrily. “Keep it up, and I’ll give you six down at the Discipline Square.”
Hellby’s face was a mask of pure liquid rage. She turned red as she screamed at him.
“How dare you!” she screeched. “How dare you even think about it!…I’m a free citizen! Can’t you idiots do anything right! Both of you together have a single working brain cell! I can tell you have just enough thought power to eat, sleep, and take a shit! Damn you!”
Whelp…that was the last straw. At this point, he wasn’t even angry anymore. He was just done.
He made sure his faceplate was directly in line with her vision as he motioned to Gorman without looking. He couldn’t use Gorman’s name for obvious reasons, so he used the old “1-7” term in place of “partner.”
“Okay, suit yourself, Hellby,” shrugged Argus. “It’s time for the posts. I don’t want to have to do this, but you’ll keep getting the lash until you learn.
“Call it in 1-7. Get authorization from the warden.”
“Oh, goody,” said Gorman. “I get to see those hot tits again. Try not to mess up her ass too bad this time, though. You know I’m an ass man.”
“You piece of baboon shit!” screamed Hellby. “I’ll have you castrated for this, you little turd! I’ll cut off your balls myself! I’ll keep your balls in a jar on my nightstand!”
Weeeeell, this had escalated quickly.
“That is not gonna fly, Hellby,” frowned Argus. “Threatening security like that? Threatening me like that, huh?…Not smart…You want to mess with my junk, huh?…I don’t think so…I think you need a more severe lesson for this one…Okay…You know what? I think it’s time for a clam bake. Call in the shock bar 1-7. Two seconds.”
“You can’t do that! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” screamed Hellby. “I’m a free citizen! I’m a free…I’m a free citi…citizen…”
The woman broke down into tears after that. She broke down into piteous sobbing, and honestly, even after all of the verbal abuse this woman could give and the tantrums she could throw?…Argus almost felt sorry for her.
Houdini Copyright © 2026 bloodytwine.com Matthew L. Marlott
Note: The image for this story was generated via artificial intelligence courtesy of OpenAI.
