A/N: My Muse is still silent mostly. The problem is while I know where this should be going, Jack's voice is missing. I know you want something though, so I'll try to bridge the gaps here. All Kyra here- just about. Hey at least someone was talking... finally.
Thank you to all my reviewers and sorry for the long wait.
A Passage, 32
Checkmate
Kyra found that slipping the 'Goll Brethren stationed at the Kova Embassy was not nearly as easy as she imagined it would be. There was no quietly slipping out at night, unseen, even though her 'room' had only a curtain holding her in, because she could never get time to study the guards' movements and patrol patterns. Her bunk mate was nearly always there and always chattering about how few people she was reaching, and that she was desperate to get her quota. As far as that went, Kyra doubted now, after going out on a few conversion attempts, that she could slip away from the Rychengolls while out preaching either. This was because she was consistently asked to speak to people who gathered. She'd not figured out why, but had complied anyway. She'd considered walking out during services, and going right out the Embassy doors. The problem with that was that Mikal was always, or nearly always, with her then.
What it boiled down to was that she was never alone for very long. Someone was always around her. Neither in the field nor in the Embassy did she get much physical privacy. That did not mean that she could not think and ponder about the problem, however. It was that planning and scheming that kept her marginally sane. She'd considered, too, the option of fighting her way out. The size of the embassy made that less then attractive as an option. Brute force, her common way, was not the way it would have to be done. She needed to be sneaky about it. She taken note of where certain things were, like the guards banner changes, the weapon stores, the general locations of various offices and things she would rather avoid in leaving. Basic plans were falling into place, if she just had enough time to finalize them.
Time was the thing she was short on. Not only was it getting physically difficult now to hide her condition, but fighting in this state of being larger then she was used to being would not be easy. Or safe. Well, fighting in any condition was not safe, but this condition put an innocent at risk and that ran counter to the convict code that she'd learned and taken to heart while under Charlie's wing. Time was short also because the task of conversion she was set to was proving far to easy for her liking. Just a couple of weeks and she'd gotten 13 already, and that was without really trying. The target number was 15, and then – she was not sure what would happen. Her guide, Mikal, seemed overjoyed with her progress, although the wild haired young woman was less then happy about it herself. She supposed the target numbers were why she was asked to speak as often as she was, even though she considered the words to be spoken with little effort or feeling.
She had been able to do some searching however for one dark skinned holy man. That he was in the local political scene rather helped her a lot- she could can the papers easy enough and spot his name. The problem was, someone that public often hid in private. His personal address was not so easy to come by, even when she did have access to public data. In spite this, she believed she might have narrowed down in general where the Imam was living, what quarter of New Mecca he and his family were in. Getting an excuse to contact the holy man was another story, however. She had hoped that if she asked for a chance to convert someone ranking here that she would be given a green light to contact him. Mikal had discouraged her from even asking. And using political clout or seduction to convince someone else in the Embassy to allow her access to communication equipment had not proven effective either. She'd gotten into this mess to protect her babe, and risking the child to play rough passion games like the Ambassador had hinted at wanting to do was never going to be an option.
Kyra sighed, eyes sweeping the gray on gray with no break in the colors that her 'room' provided her with. The gray clothes she wore blended with the gray bedding and blankets here. The underside of the upper mattress was gray with silverish bed springs under it. The curtain was gray across the alcove entrance. The padding on the floor was gray, and the pictures on the wall were all water washed gray toned images on pale gray paper. That the walls themselves were gray with tan and cream flecks and veins had proven to be the only break on the color had been something she pondered for endless hours when she should have been sleeping. Sometimes her eyes picked out faces or pictures in the natural stone's oddities. Sometimes she just stared blankly at those walls. Which was what she was doing right now, as her mind tried to work out a solution to her situation.
One thing that Helion Prime had given her was some healthy color to her skin and hair. Her curls, consistently clean now that she was a 'free' woman, were a mass of chestnut brown with copper streaks from exposure to the strong Helion sun. Her once nearly pasty pale skin had taken on a touch of tan, not enough to call her tanned, but certainly enough to chase away the traces of being stuck in a 'no daylight' double max prison basement level, like she had been. Right now those curls were loose and free, forming a halo around her head. She supposed she should be trying to rest instead of sitting up on her bunk staring at the walls.
She was having trouble getting her mind around the fact that the 'golls willfully overlooked her pregnancy. It was both a relief to not have anyone fussing over her, and bothersome at the same time. While the robes hid the evidence well there was no denying the babe's movements inside her, slight as they were. Maybe she was just super aware of it because no one else was. She did not know. The freakish people around her blindly believed the weight gain was just her eating well and the glow to be evidence of her new found faith, content in their delusions. And time was running out if she wanted a chance to give this child something better then what her own life had been. Somehow she doubted that whatever the Brethren had in mind included a white picket fence and 2.4 kids. She was only slightly upset by that, really. She could not picture herself domestic in any fashion anyway. The memories of raising siblings on a mining world oh so long ago just did not seem real anymore. Certainly they did not seem like hers. But then if they weren't hers then who did they belong to?
These times like this gave her too much to think about, really. It was silly to think that she was not Audrey Johanstein. The memories were all there- maybe too crisp and clear. That annoyed her. Sometimes it was like the memories she had were fed into her brain, like the images of history and conquest that were piped into her awareness during worship. And or course they were different then those memories she had of being with Toombs, even though the cryo experience at the start of it made those moments very vivid in her mind. She'd not pondered this in the slam, when survival took the lead and every sense was focused outward. But here- it was safe. Sometimes too safe. And her mind wandered, even when she did not want it to.
Soft shuffling on the floor outside her alcove caused her to raise her head, looking to see who was approaching. She almost felt a flare of gratitude at this intrusion, seeing as it gave her something besides herself to think about. That she recognized the tempo of the movement, indeed that she knew it was Mikal even before he came within smelling distance, did not register with her as being overly strange. She noticed two things. He was buoyantly happy about something and trying to remain meekly humble about it, as though an outright display would cause whatever it was to fade away. And she was not overly sure that she would take the news he bore the same way he had taken it. He semi- slid up to her, parting the curtain that acted as a door, the expression on his face alone confirming her worse fears, "Sister Kyra, I have wonderful news. Two more people came in last night carrying your card. You have made the quota."
The correct reaction would be a brilliant smile. Everyone here was eager to meet the quota. Some of them had been trying for years. She'd been here a short matter of weeks- someone else should have gain the benefit of her work, taken those numbers for themselves. Of course she was never that lucky. So brilliant smile? Her face refused to form one. In fact it was having a really hard time just staying in the 'brainwashed' neutral range. One look at her eyes would show how upset and pissed off this news made her. Mikal, she knew, would reported her as a failed conversion if he spotted this reaction. That would get her tossed back int Kova Penal, exactly where she did not want to be. Kyra cast her eyes to the floor, trusting her wild curls to be an effective block to the reaction she could not suppress. A reaction that took the form of a scowl so intense that it made her forehead ache from forming it. She made a watery sounding protest, "There must be a mistake, Brother Mikal. Surely my unskilled words could not have impacted so many- others have stronger faith then I."
If anything the protest made Mikal gush even more then he was before, "Oh, Kyra- it is this humble nature you have that makes those words worth listening too. I'm surprised you did not touch more. Perhaps you should come with me to worship, Sister. It's been too long." His hand extended toward her. She knew the suggestion was not one. It was an order. And she'd gone to 'worship' just a few short hours back on her own to avoid the attentions of that Kovan Ambassador who'd taking a shine to her "plump" middle and expressed a desire to fuck her. But instead of protesting she took Mikal's hand and stood with a mumbled thanks. His arm slid around her. "I'm gladdened by this success, Sister. I've waited a long time for conversion into Brethren. It's only now that I can see the path open to me, with someone who is compatible."
Scowl finally smothered, she glanced at him sideways, now trying to fight off shock and surprise, "Come again?" Her legs were refusing to work on her, nearly locking to keep her upright at the moment. If Mikal thought it odd he did not show it. Maybe it was more common a reaction she was having then she had expected. Or these lusus naturae were truly blind, deaf, and dumb. Part of her scoffed inside at that. Brain pans fried was the case here, and willingly so.
If any of the internal whirlwind of emotions that Kyra was feeling actually showed, her mentor was oblivious to the real meaning behind them. He raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you know, Sister? The converts taken from prison have Warrior blood in them, and this is what the Brethren need."
Had she been eating or drinking anything, Kyra would have choked. She was not, luckily. Of course, her knees went half wobbly, meaning she had to catch herself from falling. It was the numbness of shock that finally settled in which saved her from the building rage that was threatening to overwhelm the civilized facade she wore. "So, I'm going to ascend, is that what you are telling me?" It was very hard to suppress the scoffing tone in her words but somehow Kyra managed it.
Mikal either did not care about or did not notice the struggle she was having, "Isn't it glorious? I would envy you for it, but for the fact that it is finally my time to ascend too- indeed we shall together." He flashed her a huge grin. But of course, he was too high in rapture to give a rat's ass about anything but himself at the moment. Seeing it on his face made Kyra pause and blink stupidly at him for a moment. He did not see that reaction either, assuming that she too must feel the same glory he was enfolded in.
The animal instinct inside her clawed its way to the surface, They are going to rip out your fucking spine and fuse you to this freak. They don't care if you are pregnant or not. Now, what are you going to do about it? The creature of darkness that had been tempered inside her in the slam circled and paced restlessly. She felt like she needed to be keeping a eye on it, but really could not afford to let Mikal see exactly what was going on. Kyra knew she had to distract him. The only thing she could think of was bluffing like she was playing along. She turned and gripped his darker gray robes with both hands, startling him but causing him to stop. He looked at her. Kyra did not find him overly attractive, no. He was nothing special. She had a feeling though that she would end up with his blood on her hands, that there was not going to be much choice in the matter. The shaking running though her was threatening to send her to her knees. "Mikal, please-" He put his hands over hers and opened his mouth to speak, and her instinct was to just kiss him to shut him up. So she did. He gave her a dazed expression. "You've been a good friend, Brother, I'm -honored- with what I'll be able to give you." The words were truth, in a fashion- she'd have to accept that his blood would coat her skin. No other course was left open to her.
It was enough though to sooth any suspicion he might have had, that kiss and those words. It never occurred to the religious male to question her motivations. He'd been told she would be the one he'd be bound to, and so it would only figure that she would have positive feelings for him. Mikal smiled softly at her, "Come, sister- let us worship, it will be soon enough that our final conversion will occur. We have nothing but rapture to look forward to." She managed a blandish nod, and he took it as astonishment, not rebellion. The part of her ready to break and run relaxed, marginally.
Getting her legs back under her, she remained silent as they walked through the massive, streamlined building. The Kova style was ultra modern with the occasional strange organic decoration. The colors at least were not overly annoying, or bright. The predominantly gray tones of the sleeping area gradually gave way to tans flecked with charcoal, and amber lights here and there. The more public areas were designed to mostly to fit in with the native color scheme really. The civil part of her pondered this concession to the Helion 'melting pot' while the animistic side of her brushed it aside in favor of clues and details that would help her escape- when the time was right.
It was ironic, Kyra decided as the reached the worship hall that when this had first happened, she had almost hoped, in spite of herself, that she would discover God really existed. At the time nothing would have been more welcome- to find an all consuming faith in something bigger then herself. After finding that there was no Doc in double max to shine her eyes, the words she remembered about getting tossed into a no daylight slam, the words she had taken as truth and something she could use to turn her mess of a life around, became these bitter shards of glass cutting away at any faith she might have had left. The Rychengolls had offered her a tiny, tiny shred of hope that perhaps there was something worth believing in.
But time and exposure had washed that glint away. What she had learned was that the entire thing was man made, a scheme, a ploy. She was not sure who benefited from it, or why it became this self replicating monstrosity, but she was sure the entire thing had little to do with religion. There might be something there with the tech, but it was not God. Perhaps it mattered little. Maybe there was no such thing as God. Or maybe she'd been born to Hell -and this existence was hell- for some transgression in a past life.
And yet- she could not and would not be the one to condemn her unborn to this. One thing she was sure of was that the child was innocent in everything, past life or no, and that made her certain that she would have to carve her way out of this, because there was no way in hell she would willingly become one of the Brethren. Mikal was nice an all, but to be connected to him for the rest of her life? She did not think so... If they would not listen to her protests, and clearly they were not going to, then she would have to make a new path. Nothing in her life had been what she wanted. And no matter how much she tried to make good on the crap dished to her, it was still crap, in the end. As long as she accepted that her life was shitty, then perhaps there was a chance that her unborn could have better, if she fought for it.
Worship, now that she had made her quota, became a morning to night thing. Every waking moment was spent in prayer, and hooked up to the devices that fed history into ones brain. The message was always the same- glory to God and his chosen – the Brethren. His Holy Warriors. Such grand future that awaited those blessed to ascend... yadda, yadda, yadda... The same dogmatic crap they fed her before, telling her that only the blind could truly see, only the deaf truly hear- that God demanded the devout do certain things to prove themselves to him. Only after such steps were done would God prove himself real. As before, and as always, she shook it off, knowing that if God had to work so hard to get someone to believe in him then perhaps God was more man-made then divine.
When the first day was over, Mikal led her to a different area of the Embassy and told her that she would have new quarters, as benefited one chosen to ascend. These rooms were plusher and more exotic then she was used to. Rich materials and colors, fine soft things that were beyond anything she had ever owned before, much less touched. After so much gray it seemed garish and loud to her. If she was supposed to feel gratitude for the luxury, she failed. She barely touched the bed to sleep in, instead scavenging from it anything that might be turned quickly into weapons or lockpicks. And while Her clothing and the food she was given were both better then what she had gotten before, she did not trust any of it in any way.
Her paranoia surfaced quickly. Since she found her lack of faith kept her from being overly riveted to the images she was able to nap at the services. This meant that while she would lay down when the lights when out, she did not stay down. In fact she stopped sleeping at night altogether. The wild side of her scolded her to not dare risk such things. Hell it did not even trust the food when it was given to her. Not to say that she did not eat- actually she did eat, but only a set aside portion. She stuck to fresh fruit and veggies as much as she could, peeling or double washing it as needed before eating it. She was very careful to make it look like she had consumed it all however. The fear was that the food was laced with drugs to keep her docile and make her do what they wanted her to do. The fact that the cheerful way the empty trays were taken after each meal only made her more suspicious that she was right. Those last nights gave her time and materials to prepare because she needed to be ready when it came.
She knew too, the day it happened, before she even opened her eyes- it would be this day, and the scheme was over. The facade so cracked that it barely stood up to her looking in the mirror. She was what she was, Kyra could never be tamed, and she was tired of acting like she had been. So she was crouching when the door was rapped on, her animal mind back in focus. She stood, one shiv tucked into her sleeve, tied there against her arm. She had several knives from the food service trays tucked in between layers of her socks, too, and more then a few sharpened spoon edges. That her normally wild hair was bound up in a braid tucked into her robes and her hood up should have indicated something was not the same about her. The 'Golls missed the cues though, ushering her into their middle, acting as though this was just like any other conversion. Kyra went without a fuss, moving into their midst and biding her time.
Walking silently, not even a whisper of cloth against the floor, the killer swathed in a female form kept pace with her escort. There were 4 of them, one to each point, front and back. Soft bellied civies, would fall easy. There was the room now ahead of her, one Embassy guard stationed at the door, more to keep the curious out then the Brethren in. His gun might be tricky, but she suspected he did not know even how to use it. The man was sight in build, tallish and lanky. About her size, she figured. If she was careful, she might be able to use his uniform to get out of the embassy, and away from the Kovans. The door slid open, revealing two surgeons, Mikal on the table, his face bloody already with fresh self inflicted wounds where he'd stabbed his own eyes out, and one Brethren, who was watching and "blessing" the proceedings. All this she took in through the open door in an instant. The pause was slight enough that her escort did not notice it.
She cleared the threshold, crossing into the sterile room, and was hit with a thick heavy yellowish mist. Kyra was not ready for the face-full of gas washing her in a wave of disorientation. What the fuck is this? She swayed slightly. The four to her sides were also swaying, but she was unaware of it. Her mind was too taken up with the room spinning, the distorted forms moving toward her, and the weird sense that she should be both calm and panicked. One of the figures resolved itself into the horrific shape of a cyborg-Siamese twin. Her instinct to retch would not serve her here, so she clamped down on the disgust that triggered the wave of nausea and steeled herself to face the monstrosity.
The Brethren shuffled to her, his odd toned voice echoing in the rapidly drugged state she was slipping into, "Take the sacred Blade, Sister." Kyra blinked- there was a beautifully crafted heavy dagger, ornately embellished and barbed on he edges, being extended to her. The Brethren need not tell her twice to take the weapon. She hefted it in her hand, thinking about how nicely balanced it was. It would do much better then the blades she had. Yes, much better. "God demands that your give up sight so you may truly see. A display of your profound faith would be to take this demand and do what need be done yourself -with this blade," the twin voice told her.
Kyra cocked her head to the side, the entire room moving disjointedly in her perception. You want me to do what? Hack my own eyes out? Are you fucking insane? Something kept her from voicing the thoughts though, and her hand flipped the blade so that she was holding it in such a way that self inflicted wounds would be neat and quick. She raised the blade level with her eyes and focused on it. Beyond the edge of the weapon the Brethren turned away from her, as though they trusted she would do it. One eyebrow quirked slightly. She did believe that there was a gap in the Brethren's armor there, one that might well drop it fast. Lucky for her, the shiv she made was in the other hand, and loose enough on the tie that it dropped into her hand
Even in this state of mind, drugged as she was, the instinct to fight kicked in. Her hatred of the Brethren flared. Yea it's time, Brother- Time to die. The killer inside Kyra exploded into action, flinging the first shiv into the gap and hacking at the closest of her escorts with deadly precision. The Brethren froze as the blade shorted its cybernetics, reducing it to a living statue, unable to move at all. It started wheezing as the jolts of foreign power crossed over its flesh. The 'goll next to Kyra went down in a spray of crimson, his charcoal robes blackening with his blood. She did not pause, swirling to kick the one behind her to the other side, sending her sprawling, sideways, into the wall hard enough to crack her head against the granite tiles.
Krya crouched, pulling a knife from her sock, taking in the situation quickly. The one surgeon was thinking perhaps the the Brethren had malfunctioned and was moving closer. The other two escorts were acting shocked and confused, having gotten just as much of the gas as she had gotten. Kyra cut the closest one on her leg, deep enough to drop her and hobble her, but not enough to kill her. The other surgeon was raising a tranquilizing gun her direction, she noticed. This caused her to grab the fourth escort and pull him in front of her, before the dart hit. He fell, totally, instantly out. Krya blinked and looked back at the surgeon who seemed as startled as she was. Oh that gun – she needed it.
The robes were getting in the way now, so a knife slice later, somehow done on the move, Kyra crouched down behind the table, the one she should have been strapped to, she suspected, sans the gray material, as the other medic circled, trying to get her back in sight. His pause to look at the robe made her wonder for a moment, just how much of the gas he'd gotten, to be acting to stupid. She hit the the fellow over by the Brethren with a blade to the spine, causing him to fall into the energy he'd been trying to avoid. The room must be sound proof she figured, because the scream did not cause anyone to come running. The last man standing leveled the gun at her again and this time she jerked Mikal off the table and tossed her self up onto it, causing it to roll fast across the room, hitting the man in the middle, pinning him to the wall.
"How about I show you my faith?" she asked him as she sank the 'goll blade into his eye. "And, I'll be taking that gun there, thank you." The man was screaming, having dropped the gun in favor of clawing at his own face in an attempt to get the barbed blade free from his eye socket. Kyra flattened herself to the wall, checked the darts in the gun, and hit the intercom, "Hey, we have a situation in here, do you think you can come in here and help us hold this chick down while we strap her in- She's convulsing." The guard must have thought that sounded reasonable enough, as he opened the door and stepped in.
Kyra, flat to the wall on the guard's left, spread her arm straight out, extending the gun to nearly touch him about neck level as he entered. There was just enough time to register that the door was opening and him to step inside before she pulled the trigger, sending a dart right into his unprotected neck, between the headgear and the chest armor. He dropped before the door had time to close. Kyra wasted no time, dropping into a crouch and dragging him clear. The door slid closed and she shook her head as the fresh air helped push the drugs out of her system.
She knew she had to move quickly now. Time was running out. Krya stripped the guard, dressed in his uniform, and searched the room for more of the darts... finding none, and not wanting to actually be caught here, she snagged the real gun off the floor and moved back to the post outside. This allowed her to get herself centered and calm. The replacement guard came by soon enough. He asked, "Any word?"
"Full conversion, still in progress. Had some issue with the girl, was convulsing there for a bit, but stable now."
The guard taking over said, "Yea, these things take 36 hours usually. I'll take over here. Go kick off for your break."
Kyra just nodded, "Yes Sir". She walked away with military precision, as expected. The pieces of the plan were in place here, all the time she had observed little things that had not made sense before, now in this light were. She paused only to change into a exterior guard banner, found at the side station near the door before exiting. No one even looked twice. The alarm would not be raised for another day at least. That was more then enough time. She intended to kick off. It was the plan. Kicking off Helion, and getting the fuck away from here as far as she could go. She just needed to act civil for a little while longer.
The guard outside was not expecting a relief, and did not seem to think that her walking past him around the corner to be a big deal. She paused at the corner, ditching the armor and banner in a hedge, carefully looked both ways to make sure she was not observed, and slipped into an alley. The white shirt that had been under the armor was not the best fit for her, so she scanned the narrow alley as she walked, looking for something looser that would allow her to blend in here. Luckily for her it was common practice to line dry things in the hot Helion sunshine. Within a couple of blocks she had shed the uniform top and snagged a tunic off a laundry line. The guard's boots had not been the right size however, and the soft shoes she wore inside them did not help her much. Both sets of footwear neede to be ditched. While the pants were neutral enough, she needed shoes. She doubted that shoes would be found on a clothes line. Kyra paused at a noisy junction and dug through the pockets of the guard's uniform pants.
The previous owner of said pants had taken his wallet with him on his shift. Inside it was a withdrawal card, a note with some numbers, and she noticed an imprint of one finger on the photo window. All of that meant she could get UD. She just needed some clay. Or tape. One of the houses along the alley had both, some blobs of child's clay and a role of tape on a nearby desk where it looked like someone had been clipping something out of a newspaper. A bit of crafting later, she had lifted the print, and carefully attached it to a clay finger. Inside the wallet too was a few loose UD, enough to buy a pair of sandals from a street vendor. So leaving the alley barefoot was not too bad and she needed not walk far that way.
She located a withdrawal machine, fiddled with the card and the listed numbers and the print- and cleared out the guy's account. From there she was able to get a lift to the spaceport. Her idea was to try to get a job shipping out. No one was hiring though. So the next choice was a ticket- only she did not have quite enough for one. But she did find a freighter on the route to Proxmia. It was easy enough to slip aboard. She was able to avoid being seen and caught the entire trip too. No deaths, nothing messy, just a little computer hacking was all. But then they reached Proxmia. It was the exit that got her spotted. She was in not condition to run at that point- visibly pregnant, and dressed in clothes from Helion that gave away that she was not just some local kid checking out the ship and getting too close. Instead of making the situation worse, she attempted to charm her way out of it, paying what she had and working off the difference. The Captain of the ship was not happy – but by the same token he was not mean either. He listened as she explained to him her situation, the 'golls and their conversion idea, and how she had not wanted to do it. He even was sympathetic seeing her rounded belly, why she was wanting to get away from the Rychengolls like she had. Kyra said she slipped out, not mentioning killing anyone. She said she had computer skills that he surely could use. Only the guy proved to be too honest to take her up on it, instead turning her over to the authorities.
Since Proxmia was not a very populated place, the powers that be told her she would be sent to Aqualia, and once there her records would be pulled and justice served. If she behaved then they'd do what they could for her unborn, and give her a real chance at rehabilitation. The sheriff here on Proxmia was a nice lady, one that really seemed to care. And Kyra found herself trusting her. So she told them about what had been done to her, how guild law was broken by Toombs when he raped her, and then sold her to Kova penal- and that she had no idea who "Jack" was, because she'd never been on no ghost run or anything.
Even so, the transfer to Aqualia went smooth enough and the public defender she got was an ok lad. He listened to her story, coaching her to tell him everything, including stuff that would end up stacking her sentence higher against her. Right now he was sitting across from her, free of fear, unlike so many other civies she had met in similar situations, looking at his data screen. He took a deep breath, "Well Kyra – There is some good news. The court will hear your case, from the beginning, and count time served in Kova penal as time paid to society. This is excellent for you, because you did not get a trial last time."
She nodded at him, and said, "No, sir. I did not."
"Once more, the judge made an executive decision and dismissed charges against you on the murder of the Kovan citizen Mr. Junner. The evidence is that the prints on the murder weapon, a homemade shiv, do not match you. That's one off your record." He smiled at her. Kyra allowed herself to relax a little, just a few more weeks here and it would not matter where she went. The child inside her would be safe and that was all that mattered. "Now, I'm still trying to get the Rychengoll incident at the Kovan Embassy on Helion reduced to self defense. Your actions killed 4 and injured 4 others."
"Thanks for trying, really," she said as she ran her hand over her belly, "Only it was not just self defense here- they totally overlooked I was pregnant. Now you cannot tell me I should have let them blind me, cut out my spine, and graft me to someone else in my condition- or in any condition, for that matter."
The public defender nearly choked on his coffee a moment, "No, no- good point there. I'll raise that next time I meet with the opposing council."
She shrugged, "Soon it won't matter so much."
He frowned at her, "Kyra, they are talking about sending you to Crematoria. That's waking Triple Max, harsh does not even cover it. If I can get those four extra deaths reduced they'll keep you here, in double instead, for cyber crime- much less dangerous for you."
"Yea?" The lawyer nodded at her. She made a face, "Well, you keep trying then. No harm done there." He made a determined face and nodded, feeling like he had a plan of action now and her permission to follow it. She doubted he would succeed. As he stood up she said, "Can ya do me a favor?" He paused and looked back a her, "Send me something about Crematoria, will you? Just in case I am sent there, so I know what is in store for me?"
The fellow shook his head, "You won't need it, I promise, but I'll send you the files anyway."
She let him go with that, waited for the rather nice female guard to come escort her back to her plain if clean room. In her condition no one was really scared of her. Of course, she was glad for it- it was somewhat normal feeling. And just a few weeks more this would be over. The legal wrangling would buy her time to have her babe, and to have it in minimum security.
Ten days later she went into labor. The medics here were pleasant, the process painful but she was never mistreated. The public defender even was there holding her hand, telling her it would be OK, he'd made sure that the babe would not be taken by Johanstein – that it was registered as an Aqualian native, being born here. It eased her mind somewhat. It had been her greatest fear, really- that the child would lack birth papers as she had done. But her legal council being there in the room made it so that the birth was documented. Birth papers made it safe for someone outside the penal system to adopt the child. She heard it cry, born healthy and with no major crisis- and she smiled. She was not allowed to see the babe though, instead the milk was extracted from her to give the child, after testing to ensure it was drug free. The the lawyer told her if she signed over her rights as the mother that the babe would be given a good home. In the spirit of being reasonable, and trying to show that she was not a horrible person, just one stuck in a bad situation, she signed the papers placed in front of her.
The trial was lengthy, complete, and exacting. She was kept in minimum security on good behavior, while it was in progress, and given tests that to her seemed like the sort of thing that promised rehabilitation. Because of this she went along with it all, trying to believe that these people were just and that maybe some good would come of it. By Kyra's way of thinking, maybe there were some decent folks left in the 'Verse. The justice system in Aqualia Major at least was giving her a fair shake, treating her like she was human. She was not free, but she was not being brainwashed either.
It took months for the trial to reach the end, and when the verdict came down that 5 murders, with justification, might be forgiven, but it was the cyber crime, the creation of a viral program that would threaten all of civilization had it gotten loose, that made it too risky for her to be released into the general prison population on Aqualia. Even with the killings dismissed, she would be sent to Crematoria. Kyra merely lowered her head. She'd known all along- but her kid was safe and that was all that mattered.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Eva Logan learned enough on Aquila to know Riddick, aka Smyth, had come though space here, hitting one of the outposts between here and a neighbor in contested space. Her contacts had wanted to feed her crap, but she knew better, and sometimes playing hardball turned up things that were just a bit unexpected- like the ironic fact that the funeral barge for Antonia Chillingsworth had been the ship Smyth hijacked. Funny how the universe was sometimes. The Telvis Class Amenjard was not the fastest ship Smyth could have taken, but it was the most reliable one. It had been stocked with a shit-load of feast supplies and goods for religious services that only the richest of Kovan elite could have afforded. It would be easy enough to set the intel up for Toombs to locate on his own, without selling it to him, so she had no qualms about not passing the sensitive data over.
Before she could leave Aquila, however, something else fell into her lap- the very interesting chance to get a look at one Audrey Johanstein for herself. Or Jack B. Badd. Or Kyra- as the young woman was calling herself now. This was not the girl she had scans of with Smyth. That much Eva knew on sight. So then, it was the one that Toombs left at Kova. It was hard to see the the gal she picked up as dangerous, seeing how she was clean, groomed, and well behaved. Older then Eva expected, actually. She looked more in her early twenties then late teens. The two women eyed each other over, and Eva wondered if this gal really was Audrey. She was a fighter, true enough, but she did not smell like a Furyan. The pheromones were wrong for it. So who exactly was this young woman? Toombs must have told her the truth, so Johanstein had done what, exactly? Clone his adopted daughter? If so, Eva was left wondering why.
The prison system gave over the records when asked for them, Kyra herself honestly providing the data needed to track her movements from the time she was turned over to Toombs until the moment Eva took her into custody. If the truth had been told and the real Jack B. Badd was still with Smyth then Audrey was effectively in two places at once and had been for - years.
What happened once she had the young woman alone was hard to explain. Kyra seemed to know, instinctively, which side she was really on, hissing to her, "You're no fucking Merc. What are you doing this for?" Eva got Kyra onto her little ship, only pausing to motion her quiet. Kyra took the suggestion to behave until she was in the craft with her, "Not setting me free are you?"
"Can't do that. You have a role to play, my Da told me so and he's never wrong about these things. Trust me here, huh?" Telling Kyra that good behavior would benefit her was pointless. Explaining that fate was rolling things to were they needed to be was likely a waste of time. That did not mean that Eva did not try however.
Kyra gave her an odd look. Something told her that shit would be OK, if she just played the game correctly now. But what game was it? How could anything be OK with her on her way to Crematoria? "Why the fuck should I trust you?"
"Look around, Kyra." Eva said with a wave of her hand. The hardened young woman scoped out the ship noticing it was clean, much too clean for a merc ship. The state of the art Cryo system was in extremely good shape. Whatever this woman really did for a living it was not ferry prisoners to the hardest slam in the known Universe. Watching the chained woman take in the ship and clues, Logan frowned, "I don't know if you would believe me. But – no harm in telling you, I guess." Kyra's eyes flicked back to Eva, and their gaze caught, "My Da fled from Furya when he was a teen- claims he was told to go, to hide, to wait for the correct time for things to set into motion. Just like your Da was sent away, or dragged, or something- Both of us have roles to play and it's bigger then any single one of us."
Her day was taking a turn into surreal. Was the chick telling her the truth? The disbelief rolling off Kyra was almost like a smothering wall. "Furya? What the hell are you talking about?"
Logan rubbed her temples. Clearly Audrey had not been told about the past like she had been told, it was possible that the other half blood's sire had not ever had a chance to say anything. And furthermore, Eva suspected that Johanstein had not given his adopted daughter much of a real education. "Okay- there was a war, before we were born, between the various colonies- one of the places that lost was Furya. But the war is not over-" Kyra interrupted her with a scoff. Eva tightened her face, "Listen, you don't have to believe me. I doubt that Shirah has reached out to you. If my Ma hadn't been part Furyan too, I'd never have been marked, myself-" she paused to see how the other woman was taking this, noting that in spite the scoffing Kyra was listening a least, "My Ma, being half-blood, was never contacted. My Da had to do some serious worshiping to get her to show and accept me. And even so, she does not speak to me, just the one vision, one time, because my Da led me into it."
"Would this 'Shirah' have like long blond braided hair?" - Kyra had never heard the form say anything, but she did remember the woman in her visions, one that looked eerily like her, but was really not, and that woman did have her blond tresses made up that way. Could it be that her sanity had been saved because of some mystic connection in her blood?
She got a cocked eyebrow, "Yea- she did have. Dressed in leathers, with weapons- old fashioned weapons-" the expression on Kyra's face was odd, almost like she was trying deny what she was hearing. "You've seen her, haven't you?"
"Maybe," Kyra conceded. "I saw someone, anyway- in furs and leathers, with her hair in braids, long blond hair." Logan was nodding. Kyra took a breath. This woman believed her, almost like she was in awe of her. "So – OK... say I do believe you. Doesn't mean much. What can I do stuck in the Slam?"
Eva smirked, "Oh, I think fate will surprise you, Kyra. Your role will be vital."
Given the odd nature of the conversation, Kyra surprised herself by not fighting Logan and getting into the cryo chair on her own. Her mind was taken up with remembering the visions, ones she had not experienced for a very long time. She did not ask about the details, or ponder if the sun she should have noticed being dim icy purple or warm orange. She did not think to ask if the world this woman inhabited was icy and cold or lush and forested. In fact, Kyra realized as she sank into Cryosleep that it mattered little if she had seen Shirah or not- she'd already chosen to go along with the game.
Eva watched the hardened young woman slide into the blackness of chemical sleep, Wondering for once if her Da's instructions was really right. It seemed as though the train had the breaks off, and she was in a very dangerous position at the moment. Perhaps not as much as Kyra was, but when she did finally meet Riddick face to face would he kill her first and then ask later who she was? The dark headed woman rubbed her upper chest lightly where the remembered sting from the mark still burned, even after all this time. She knew what had happened- she remembered it. If fate called for her death, then she would die, willingly. Her brown eyes flicked back open as the sound of the rest of her "cargo's" arrival reached her. They would function as a temporary crew, those handful of new guards for the Crematoria Slam who needed to get there before the next supply run. Only the insane, desperate, or cunning actually wanted to work there. She suspected that these men were a mix of all three.
Not wasting time, she got them into space, sleeping, with herself as the point person to wake up first. She did not trust anyone else with her ship.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Kyra's eyes opened to the the controlled chaos of landing on Crematoria. Everything she had read indicated that this world should never have been built upon. Or inside of, for that matter. Volcanically active, wobbling on it's orbit, atmosphere dominated by nitrogen and argon that was both baked at 400 degrees above zero and frozen at 200 below it, often within ten clicks of one another, which generated intense winds on the surface filled with ash and other lose debits. The temperature extremes meant that metal even did not last long here. Most of the surfaces that were exposed to the sunlight were made of special heat resistant materials. All of this filtered through her brain as she tried to wake up. Cryo impacted her oddly, as though at some point she'd had knowledge pumped into her brain that resurfaced only when she was half awake. The more alert she became, the less she remembered of it. Her grasp on the understanding of what she had read faded as her eyes focused.
She was woozy still, unable to follow the reasoning for the orders that Eva Logan barked out to the men under her. None of the males had made this run, and it was clear that Eva had done it before, commanding them to do things as though their lives depended on it. Considering how they responded, perhaps it did. These were guards, not mercs. There was no whooping when the ship slid to a halt in the hanger, instead there was the sensation of that being that- perhaps even it being more then they were expecting. Or less. The men got out of the ship, turned their attention to getting their gear, leaving Logan to handle the prisoner, considering that they were not being paid to escort one. This suited both women fine. Kyra had already decided to play this safe, to not make trouble.
Logan indicated for the men to allow her to keep the prisoner in front of the tram, while it meant that Kyra got a real seat, and one of them had to ride with their luggage, they did not protest it much. The prison boss met them at the far end, and Eva told him she was not there for an extended cut- she'd been paid already by Aquila to make this run. Douruba had other reasons for wanting to keep Logan there- he knew of her rep, her call on info. Surely there were things she had for trade, and he would be willing to ply some of his hard eared UD for it. Eva made a face, "I'm on a tight schedule- I can spare you 26 hours, Doobie." Not everyone could get away calling him 'Doobie', but Logan could. He might even pay her the merc's fee for her prisoner.
Kyra watched the man flirt and Logan act amused. The new guards were shown off to their quarters leaving the prison boss, Eva, Kyra, and a handful of other guards in the control room. "You sure you don't want that cut, Evie-girl?" the Boss asked the merc again.
"Um? What did I tell you? Every time I come here as a favor for someone you pull this. I am not staying a day for you to look shit up to figure my cut."
Several of the guards looked uneasy at that, which Kyra figured might be a pretty rare thing. Douruba was shaking his head, "You know I have to add her to the books anyway. You have her Ident, or do I need to scan her?" Eva looked around and handed a card off to one of the others in the room, a baby-faced fellow with the name Anatoli imprinted on his pocket label. "Good, saves us a lot a hassle."
Eva made a face, "You know she came straight from Aquila. You know because it was called in to you. I was fucking there, so I know it was called in to you."
The guard with the card was shaking his head, "Somethin's not matchin up here, records of this one from Kova, and this chip here places her on Helion, Boss. - No good this one."
Eva snarled, "Anatoli, - I'm not even taking the fucking Merc's cut for her, just sign her in here so I can get clearance to leave!"
While the man was looking from Logan to his boss, Kyra was noticing one the guards eying her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. She knew that even if she lived out the rest of her life here, it would never be free from certain dangers. The guards were as much predators as any criminal was. Right now she knew that she had caught the eye of on such predator. What the punishment for self defense was here, she had no idea. She doubted it could be worse then Kova's tiny rat infested garbage filled bins that she had spent far too much time in. It was clear that this Slam did not get that many visitors, even when supplies came in. Certainly female visitors were extremely rare. It was not likely that the women inside the prison proper were all that easy to convince that they should be showing the guards any sort of lovin' either. This meant that many guards would learn to do without, or even attempt gang bangs on those they caught. The most pragmatic of them knew that such things were risky, and that getting ones dick shoved down ones throat was just as likely to happen as any other outcome.
Once in a while though, there would be some smuck who though it would never happen to them. One such guard was Vladimir Pavlov. He'd arrived on Crematoria about 3 supply runs back, a beefy, broad man who thought the world was his oyster. Well trained in other slams dealing with double max prisoners, he assumed that triple, waking or no, would be just about the same. While Crematoria was one fairly fucked up place, he got on well enough with the Boss, and the violence tempered his own instincts. He liked Eva well enough, but she was not what was giving him a rise at the moment.
Oddly, Kyra was more then aware of this and had been even before she got off the tram. Maybe it was his leer. Maybe it was how he leaned toward her. Or maybe it was just instinct. Sometimes a killer just knew who would end up dead by their own actions. Good Old V. Pavlov was someone she'd have to watch out for. Douruba waved aside his underling's protest. Eva was not going to stay. Not this time. "Sign her in, drop her down." With that Kyra put her focus on what was important, survival.
"Drop? Put her down on a fucking lift, Cocksucker!" Eva protested.
Douruba raised an eyebrow, "My Slam. My Rules. Drop her on a line." Pavlov moved over and caught Kyra by her hair. He dragged the slim girl to the hook. Kyra let out grunt but went with him peacefully enough, moving quickly to avoid major pain. She glared at him as he caught the chains in the hook and flipped up the manhole in the floor that opened for the wrench and rope. The Boss merely watched the proceedings as Kyra was pushed through the hole in the floor.
She heard Eva mutter, "Bastard." If the prison Boss had a retort it was spoken too softly for Kyra to follow, and seeing as she was being dropped into the pit, it really did not matter. What did matter now, was the place she was being lowered into, and the people who lived there, captive because society had decided that they, like her, were to dangerous to be allowed to live elsewhere. Where the micro-society inside the Slam was one that sometimes mirrored the one outside it, just with more intensity and danger, Kyra knew it better then the outside. In some ways this was home, more so then anything else she knew. Part of her settled into place again, and she became truly calm for the first time since she'd left Kovan Penal.
She took stock of what she had, some news, contact with the outside world, her clothes, her shoes, her skills- the Aquailian prison garb was high end stuff, and she knew she'd have to fight to keep it. The rest of it was immaterial, she would just have to prove the skills as something worth trading for. As she approached the bottom of the drop it became clear that the fighting to keep her clothing might start sooner then she expected. Now, normally, being as she had no blades on her, that would be considered rather tough, and indeed the three scrawny men covered with sulfur-yellow streaks must have thought she'd be an easy target. Well, she came in quiet enough, considering she figured why waste the energy on the guards and crap, because she was not leaving this place – not even in a body bag.
She remembered again what Logan had told her about fate and scoffed. This place was better then being pimped out by Johanstein. Better then being abused by a boat load of horny mercs who would rather stab you in the back as to teach you anything. And yes, here was better then Kova, because here there would be no sickos trying to break her. Kyra's mind snapped back to the moment, the approaching fight. One thing everyone, Prisoner and Guard alike, would learn fast- she was not easy in any sense. The first ones to learn this would be the yellow streaked trio waiting for her to get in range.
The first guy, a little taller then the others, was overly eager for his lesson, she decided as he reached for her feet. He was not intending on helping her to the ground. She certainly did not trust him to be acting with any thought of kindness. Fact was, he had weapons, and it looked like to her that he'd cut her feet off to get her boots, if she gave him half a chance to. Nuts to that. She kicked his head hard, that his face was there hardly mattered. The scream and blood as he fell did not even raise an eyebrow. It certainly did not stop the other two with him from advancing on her.
Kyra pulled her legs up into her chest, plan forming as she eyed them both over. She was about 2 meters up from the lava hard surface now. If she was to have a chance here she would need to approach this – hands first. With her hands caught over her head, that was not exactly an easy situation. Time was of the essence here though, and she could not doubt herself. She would have to beat the three, outsmarting them, or kill them. And while breaking the chains would have helped, Kyra just did not have the mass to do it.
Thankfully she was still very limber from her fights on Kova, If she could not break the chains she would have to use them as a weapon. She folded herself up and caught the ropes with her feet, shimmying up it, wrapping one leg around it, like an acrobat might do. Once she was sure that the weight was off her hands, and she was definitely upside down, she worked the chains out of the hook.
As the chain popped free she became aware of another issue though, the oil in the rope. Her fast slide meant she had to adjust her plans on the fly. Her foot caught the hook, and the energy allowed her to catch on of the other sulfur-boys with her arms, chain around his neck.
It was a good catch. He'd brace her fall, she'd snap his neck- looked like a win to her. The other of the trio caught her hair, keeping his buddy gasping, bruised, but alive. Kyra grunted, twisted, and landed a heavy soled boot in the joker's family jewels. He howled and let go, while the man she'd used to catch her fall whimpered and rolled away, his own hands on his throat. The wild haired girl crouched, arms positioned to use the heavy cuffs as a weapon. She had picks in her hair still that would get the blasted things unlocked. She never got a chance to use them however, as someone above her who had been watching her arrival chose to step in. The clear echoes of hands connecting in applause were so unusual that she found herself trying to peg the source of it.
The slow clapping caused the "salvage" crew to back away instead of coming in for another round. They knew who it was, and they knew that their existence even at this level was fully dependent upon his approval. If he chose to step in, then they backed off. If he chose to stay away, they took it as permission to keep harassing and attacking said arrival until they had gotten what they were after. While they might have felt cheated, it did not keep them from scattering from the source of it, fleeing into the crevasses of the old lava flow and the steam vents that scattered across the lower level of the prison.
Kyra's attention was thus divided between the sounds of the three would be attackers and the source of the noise. It did not take long to spot the movement of the gathering crowd. The second wave. These people were dressed in rag-tag clothes, pieced together from whatever they could find or salvage. One thing they were not, however, were dirty in the sense of the Kova prison. Sweaty, yes, dirty no. They seemed to take enough pride in themselves that they wore clean clothes, kept the level of the place clean enough to reduce the chance of getting sick, and all told she though they looked healthy enough.
Her eyes then spotted the leader. A weathered soul, one that seemed to have the authority of age here. Older but not weakened with it. Wise but not softened by keeping more for himself then his fellows. Lean and tough, and he looked to her like someone she might respect enough to consider actually liking him. Maybe. There were many similarities between this guy and Charlie, she thought. Certainly both commanded respect and likely had beaten everyone who challenged them to it.
But for all the similarities, there were massive differences too. She could see that in the way the man carried himself, in the band that glinted off his battered and mangled fingers, in how the others seemed to follow him almost as though he alone had any sanity left to them all. This man was not looking for goods to trade. He was not after sex to sell. He might not even want services of other sorts, like guards or blade makers. Indeed the people here seemed to have a different way about them. It was as though this man imposed his will over them all in such a way to make them work together. This was something new for Kyra, and she would have to learn fast how to fit into this new kind of place. Her eyes flicked up the levels of the prison, puzzling over the clues there about exactly what sort of slam this was. Other prisoners were gathering to watch on the levels above her, leaning on the rails as if to overhear the distant conversation. Those following their leader formed an honor guard of sorts, but as he got within range of non-shouting communication they stopped down the ramps, hanging back. Clearly then he'd be the one then to tell her the real rules here. Kyra focused on him, her blue eyes meeting his gaze with an openness that could only come with youth.
That locking of their eyes told the older man volumes about the young woman he was approaching. Wild, untamed, honest- able to be a violent as the situation called for, but basically the kind of person who treated others as they treated her. He supposed then that his speech would not fall on deaf ears and she might even be smart enough to actually understand the message behind it. He would have to guard himself from caring too much about this one, because he could, if he tried, find himself caring far too much. Kids like her did not last long in places like this. Not unless they found themselves a champion, someone older who was willing to take them under a wing. And even then, the chances were that next culling they would end up dead anyway.
Still, sometimes fate had other ideas. He might just risk it, depending on how she took his words, "There are Inmates..." he stated as he ticked the stick across the metal scaffolding forming the ramps that connected the levels of cells which were their shelter in times of need. Most of them functioned to keep something horrible out, not them in. As such the doors were open, the inhabitants standing on the tiers above him, looking down, watching the happenings. The girl was as aware of this as he was, but totally focused on him with every pore. He was casual enough, secure in his place here. It was a good thing the newcomer paid attention, because he was not the sort to repeat, and brushing him off meant the scavengers would creep back out to slit her throat later. "And there are Convicts."
Kyra slowly relaxed from her 'kill everything' stance. The man was down to one level above her and descending. She found her voice and tilted her chin up at him, "Says who?"
The man revealed a grudging approval, faint but there, "Says the Guv." He pointed at himself, "Says me- little girl."
Kyra quirked an eyebrow. The man seemed to take this as a fact of truth, a point that was unchanging. She supposed that here, in this prison, is was. Now then, what would she do? It was survival, fit in and follow the rules or die. She doubted if anyone cared if she died or not, and here the passing would not even be noticed. Her entire life would be unremarked, she supposed. But then he was offering her a choice. That much was clear. She chose to accept his authority, indicating such with a nod.
The Guv was impressed enough as her stance to give her the full spiel, "A Convict has a certain code. Learns the corners, the pulse of the slam, the system – not the prison system, but our system. A Convict knows to show a certain respect to the fellows when it is warranted." He was putting foot now on the ground, the uneven surface of an old lava flow that was newer then the prison itself.
"I'm listenin'," she told him, holding her head high, and thinking she knew already what else he was going to say. This was old stuff- things Charlie had taught her. Of course she expected to hear that their way was a fighting way. That's how double max had been, after all.
He eyed her over with practiced care. Someone this young was either totally amoral or had been given a really rough shake. He was making a bet on the latter, "An Inmate, on the other hand, pulls the pin on the fellows. Does the guards' work for them. - Brings shame..." He swung the stick at her stopping just shy of hitting her, watching her reaction, and she surprised him by tensing but not striking back, "To the game." Calling that a 'pass' the Guv tapped the heavy rod and cuffs with the tip of the stick causing the locks to spring open, "In this slam, Inmates don't last long, girl. It might be shards of volcanic glass in their food, or a shiv to the gut, but I assure you- we take care of our own right fast here."
"What I gotta do?" she met his gaze, the blue of her eyes sparking like diamonds in the gathering heat of Hades, the name given the sun here, which was felt even this far down.
Motioning to another con, the man raised the cuffs up on the end of the stick. The fellow approached the Guv on the left, a roughly sewn bag in on hand. Once in range the leader deposited those chains into bag open for them. The return of the gear, unharmed, would get them extra rations, which was more then they could catch in this rat hole. The girl watched, seeming to understand that they were his to take, "Do? All you got to do is answer one thing- which would you be?"
She smirked, "I ain't no rooster, if that is what you are asking, Guv. Just give me a chance to prove it." The Guv nodded. She'd get her chance. He'd extend trust to her on her word, not being a plant or inmate, and let her earn the title of Convict.
There was the bell tone above them that announced the arrival of trade items. Guv motioned to the guy with the bag and he hurried away to the lift, along with a bunch of the others who had followed the leader down. Kyra found herself still face to face with the older man. He motioned to her and turned to ascend the catwalk back up the tiers. For whatever reason, he chose to show his trust in her, and she rushed a step to come up to his side, "I read about this place. So hot in the dawn that it kills, So cold in sunset it kills- only twilight is safe- ."
"The day- which, mind you lasts a good 52 hours here- forms our fame work, hot and cold, even this deep down. Don't go making plans to leave. Once that rope drops you, you are stuck here," Guv told her. "You got a name?"
"Kyra. No last, no middle, just Kyra."
"Kyra," He repeated, letting the name flow across his tongue and form in the air, carried in his gravelly voice. "You must have done quite a lot to get tossed in here, Kyra. Young thing like you normally would wind up staying in Aqualian slams." Of course he recognized the jumpsuit and shoes. "The threads will get you a lot, if you are willing to trade and don't mind rough clothes in exchange. But," the Guv looked at her, "Keep the shoes. You won't find better down here." She nodded, taking the 'advice' as an order. If she was going to survive here she would need to be under someone's wing- Guv seemed to be the top person here and he took a shine to her. She'd be a fool to pass that up. "There's no fighting pit here, you'll learn why, soon enough. We all do what we can to work together, within limits and reason. You can make your own way here, or learn the ropes from someone who has the system on his side." The reached the elevator where the supplies were being exchanged. The guards would get back cuffs and such, various things that had value up top, including some of the plant material that the prisoners cultivated for trade, and the prisoners got rations and some other things that seemed to not have clear use at first. The Guv tapped a crate, "The cuffs were hers, and she gave them to us without a fight. Now, she deserves a cut for that."
Here was the first test- how much was she going to demand? Kyra remembered what Charlie told her, 'When among fellows who are on your side, share and share alike- stand together or fall together.' She met the Guv's stare face on and declared, "I gave those cuffs to you to do with as you needed to do for the good of all here. Just give me a fair portion, enough to survive a day, and we'll be even."
The nod she got was a clear 'passed'. It would not take her long to learn the ropes, if she paid attention. And Guv liked that. Smart young thing like her would be a valuable ally. He made sure she knew which holes here were his, what places she could slip into, and what the cost would be for it. If Kyra was shy about picking out what she would do for a measure of safety he never saw it. Guv knew that if he wanted her in his cot he could prove his worth to her, easy enough. Right now though the gold band on his finger still held some say in who he bedded, even if he did not remember the woman's name or knew if she still lived.
All the same, the Guv gave his fellows that look calling dibs on the girl, if only to make it clear she was his to bed or not, and that they needed to leave her alone until he gave the clear. This would not apply to the guards however. There were some things he could not protect her from. Kyra quickly made it known on her own right that she was a shiv maker, able to craft good weapons from scrap, She was also agile, fast, and daring. Her sharp mind and quick wit meant that most the cons under Guv learned to respect her, and she was honest enough to respect her elders.
She learned why the prison had no major lock down procedures, within the first twenty six hours of being there. The first time it happened the Guv took her under his arm and steered her into a cell with a heavy door, along with 2 others, who were currently in his good graces. He made sure the door was secure as the unearthly baying howled through the falling heat of the day. "This is the 'culling'. Hellhounds. Guards cut them loose – get caught out there facing one, they will eat you." Kyra nodded and watched the alien creatures prowl past the door, searching for anyone unlucky to still be outside. "Twice a day they do this, twilight dusk, and twilight Dawn- It'll be getting cold soon. The air coming in is hot, but clean. I suggest you do any trading you want to do before folks get to settled in to sleep but after the cork goes back in."
That she would do, with her clothes, skills, and knowledge. Kyra bartered what she knew about the outside world in exchange for help surviving inside the prison. She traded her jumpsuit for hand spun clothes and metal scrap. She might have to scavenge also, but this was something. She sought out news about the eyeshine, and found that here, like Kova, there was no one to do such a thing. The days passed, and she slowly spread her wings as she learned the beat here. The Guv respected her intelligence and her wit. But he did not bed her, and that reduced her standing with the other long term cons. Even so, she knew her place, and had his protection. She could sleep at night knowing that none of the Guv's fellows would try to molest her.
Of course, that did not mean that the guards had forgotten her existence, in spite the fact that for many a culling they did not see her. In the end it only made Vladimir Pavlov desire her more, not less. And finally the day came where he got his chance to dance with the devil- and she took more then his soul.
It had happened by mistake, a mistimed jump landed Kyra face to face with a Hellhound, and her safety on the other side of it. She'd chosen then to flee down, outsmarting the creature, and using a chain to get to the bottom of the pit quickly. Since she did a lot of her crafting down there, the gem scavengers had come to accept her in their domain, even the one who'd gotten his nose busted. She had no fear of them anymore. So the crevices they hid in had been her goal, and the stench down there was enough that most times the hounds avoided it. However, Pavlov usually scoped out the area by foot, looking for any he could catch, male or female. Only those who could slip into areas that the big guard could not fit into were really safe down there.
Being rattled by the near fatal encounter above, Kyra was not overly focused on the danger that the guards posed below, and because of this, Pavlov was able to grab her, pin her to the wall, and in general get too close into her personal space. Now, even if the man had been with the other three guards assigned to look down here, his man handling was not standard. However, he'd been able to get away with this before on others, and simply did not realize that Kyra was not like them. Instead of being pinned for long, Kyra was able to just about spin in her skin, turning the tables faster then you please. Pavlov was not a slouch either, but – within a short time he'd gotten kicked, cut with some rather sharp handmade shivs, and had more then a few bones broken. That should have stopped him.
Instead he reacted by becoming enraged, yelling, and jumping Kyra a second time. Her reaction was to gut him, sharp shiv to the belly, and a swift kick to the side of his head. He hit hard and did not get up. His yell however, brought the other three guards, who with their maulsticks were able to finally get her subdued. They pushed her into a Hellhound transport, one of the few things that acted as isolation here. The prison boss shook his head about it all and ordered her to be treated to the confines of the kennel. Pavlov on the other hand would get to greet the daylight, in two hours...