Daiquiri
Jul 3rd, 2005, 01:27:44 PM
Sunn Rise
“Shhhweee! Shhhwee! Shh-shh-WEEE!”
Unfurling its oversized wings, a large wading fowl protested loudly the audible and visual interruption of its morning hunt for breakfast. With a baleful look at the oncoming, slow moving, hovering skiff, the bird gave a series of clumsy hops as its wings beat the air and ruffled the murky water that just moments before it had been so cautious not to stir. The operator of the transport idly watched as the long-legged bird gained altitude and circled overhead, its sharp eyes scanning the swamp below in hopes of finding another safe feeding spot.
Lifting the brim of his cap, the pilot ran the back of his hand across his brow, wiping away the beads of sweat that the heat and humidity of the day had brought, before settling the hat more firmly on his head. At times, he wished his job was more exciting than simply being a temporary babysitter, but then he would look into the gaunt faces and haunted eyes of some of his passengers and relish the fact that he was only a ferryman. For the umpteenth time, he wondered just what went on inside the walls of the prison and for the umpteenth time was glad he didnt know. His job was to shuttle people back and forth to the prison, whether it was secured prisoners, those being released or workers changing shifts, and he had been told as much the day he was hired. Your one and only job is to haul bodies, thats it. No questions, got it? He got it all right and a nice paycheck to boot. Still...
The skiff nosed its way through a dense, living curtain of green, the vines and branches first parting way then draping gracefully back down, completely hiding the transport’s passage and the ugly, squat two-story block building that loomed up out of the brackish water. Makeshift prison.
Tapping the controls of the small craft, the pilot expertly eased the skiff into its second story slip, letting the engines idle as he waited for someone to make an appearance out on the deck. The waiting was the worst. It gave the insidious, cloying heat and moisture time to crawl along your skin and into your clothing, making the material stick in places it never should. Tiny droplets of sweat were melding together to form larger drops and these were now starting to trickle uncomfortably down the small of his back. With a grunt of displeasure, the man reached back and pulled his pants from the crack of his backside. A low, rumbling growl from several feet below the skiff fought its way through the heavily clinging air, finally reaching the pilot's ears. He glanced nervously over the rail then quickly shifted his gaze back to the lone door. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! It would have thoroughly amazed the man to know that there was only two locked and secured doors in the whole of the prison - the one he was now eyeballing and the one that separated the guards from the prisoners.
Makeshift prison was just that - a makeshift prison that had never been meant to last as long as it had. The planetary justice system had always meant to build a new and larger facility to house the most disreputable and reprehensible of its population, but somehow the reforms that had been proposed never made it out of the committee room and then a new government party had been elected and on the heels of that fiasco had come the fall of the Empire, and in the following wake, everyone’s pocketbook was being unfairly squeezed by which ever faction happened to be in charge of the planet that particular day. Prison reform had been pushed aside then totally forgotten as the world around it concentrated on its day-to-day life. What did it matter if there was no cooling system on the prisoners level? At least the staff had the amenities they needed! So what if the water continually seeped inside the cells during the rainy season? Make the prisoners pump it dry! Who cared if the men and women trapped there had to live with the daily (and nightly) pestilience of mosquitoes, leeches and fleas? No strictly regulated weekly or even monthly doctor visits? Hey, if they get to see the physician once a year, they should be happy - we have to pay to see a doctor and they get it free! Mold, nail fungus, foot rot, convultions, upper respiratory infections that lasted for months - what did they expect, paradise? Maggots in their food? More protein! They were prisoners, not people like you and I and they deserve to suffer for their crimes!
In the end, the Imperials had taken control and the prison eventually came to their attention. A brief inspection and complete explanation of the running of the facility set the Imps to smiling and nodding; yes, yes, this will do quite nicely. Low cost, barely any maintenance, no high public profile to speak of and an oh-so-easy method of body disposal for the poor bastards who dropped dead - the swamp itself. But the clencher, the creme de la creme had been when the warden had shown his prestigous visitors ‘the secret weapon’ of Makeshift. Not too long after Makeshift opened, a far-sighted assistant warden had seen the potential of a furry worm called ‘ysalmiri’ and had brought this discovery to the notice of his superior. The Jedi were gone and Darksiders seemed to be popping out of the walls, causing mayhem and doling out death everywhere they went. Pros and cons were weighed and it was finally decided that a few of these inoffensive creatures should be incorporated into what little security the prison had need of. After all, what need was there for big, heavy guns and other weapons, locked doors and security codes when the best security of all was the swamp itself? All any prisoner needed to do to escape was open one of the first-floor doors leading outside to the swamp and to imminent freedom...and to a large population of meat eating reptiles that looked like a cross between a dewback and a crocodile. Twenty footers werent uncommon and the largest one measured (dead, of course!) was thirty eight feet, seven inches long and weighed in over three tons. Once or twice a year, some poor soul would reach the end of their proverbial rope and make a mad dash out a door, hoping to take the four-legged residents by surprise but inevitably it always ended the same way - with the guards hanging out of the second story windows filming the entire incident so that they could show the new prisoners what awaited them - while the foolish escapee was literally torn apart, screaming out his or her last. No one had ever escaped Makeshift alive. No one.
And no one was going to escape today, either...not exactly. Today was something different; someone was getting released. Wiping his forehead again, the pilot was pleased to hear the ‘whoosh’ of the security door as it slid aside. Two people emerged out onto the decking; a guard, clean and crisp in his uniform and a thin, bedraggled female, her prison grays almost black with dirt and mold. Unceremoniously, the guard deposited the woman on the floor of the transport and gave a nod to the pilot. Details of the woman's clearance had been previously radioed ahead to the guard shack on the other side of the swamp. No one entered or left the facility without getting cleared through there, first. Given the go-ahead, the operator thumbed the controls and backed the skiff out of its bay. Turning the nose around, he manuvered the craft back along the exact path it had came, the twenty minute ride made in complete silence. Over his shoulder, the man stole a look at the female. She was skin and bones. Matted, dirty blonde hair hung in strands over her face as she sat with her head bowed, not moving. It was possible that she didnt even realize she was being set free. Shrugging, the driver cut back the engines, slowing as he docked the skiff at the land-based sallyport. Stepping off the transport, the pilot waited for the woman to move. He had no intentions of touching her, himself. His glance at her had quickly spotted the lice crawling on her scalp. His job was done and all that was left was the final clearance by the last guard who now approached them.
Pulling on elbow-length sanitary gloves, the guard reached across the skiff's railing and dragged the female from the craft, a look of intense distaste marring his features. Once he had her on her feet, he shoved a loosely wrapped package into her arms before launching into the short but required speil.
“Sonya Sunn, you have served your time at Makeshift prison and are now free to go. Given to you is one set of clothing, one ticket to the closest spaceport and a one hundred credit chit. You may now leave.”
Turning smartly on his heels, the guard disappeared back inside the shed, quickly stripping off the soiled gloves and dropping them into a small disposal before grabbing a spray can of disinfectant and liberally spraying the rest of his uniform. Flicking a switch, he made a call back to the prison.
“Done.”
“Roger, I’ve got it marked down. Too bad youre on that side, today. We’ve got a body to dump and I know how much you enjoy watching the show.”
“Yeah? Who kicked it?”
“One of the lifers...a female...Daiquiri something or other.”
The talk continued unheard by either the skiff pilot or the woman who had begun ambling away from the sallyport. It would have created an uproar both in the prison and in the Imperial planetary headquarters had they known of the small mistake of identities that had just been made. At this very moment, the lifeless body of Sonya Sunn was being shredded and eaten while ‘Daiquiri something or other’ was putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get some distance between herself and the prison.
“Shhhweee! Shhhwee! Shh-shh-WEEE!”
Unfurling its oversized wings, a large wading fowl protested loudly the audible and visual interruption of its morning hunt for breakfast. With a baleful look at the oncoming, slow moving, hovering skiff, the bird gave a series of clumsy hops as its wings beat the air and ruffled the murky water that just moments before it had been so cautious not to stir. The operator of the transport idly watched as the long-legged bird gained altitude and circled overhead, its sharp eyes scanning the swamp below in hopes of finding another safe feeding spot.
Lifting the brim of his cap, the pilot ran the back of his hand across his brow, wiping away the beads of sweat that the heat and humidity of the day had brought, before settling the hat more firmly on his head. At times, he wished his job was more exciting than simply being a temporary babysitter, but then he would look into the gaunt faces and haunted eyes of some of his passengers and relish the fact that he was only a ferryman. For the umpteenth time, he wondered just what went on inside the walls of the prison and for the umpteenth time was glad he didnt know. His job was to shuttle people back and forth to the prison, whether it was secured prisoners, those being released or workers changing shifts, and he had been told as much the day he was hired. Your one and only job is to haul bodies, thats it. No questions, got it? He got it all right and a nice paycheck to boot. Still...
The skiff nosed its way through a dense, living curtain of green, the vines and branches first parting way then draping gracefully back down, completely hiding the transport’s passage and the ugly, squat two-story block building that loomed up out of the brackish water. Makeshift prison.
Tapping the controls of the small craft, the pilot expertly eased the skiff into its second story slip, letting the engines idle as he waited for someone to make an appearance out on the deck. The waiting was the worst. It gave the insidious, cloying heat and moisture time to crawl along your skin and into your clothing, making the material stick in places it never should. Tiny droplets of sweat were melding together to form larger drops and these were now starting to trickle uncomfortably down the small of his back. With a grunt of displeasure, the man reached back and pulled his pants from the crack of his backside. A low, rumbling growl from several feet below the skiff fought its way through the heavily clinging air, finally reaching the pilot's ears. He glanced nervously over the rail then quickly shifted his gaze back to the lone door. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! It would have thoroughly amazed the man to know that there was only two locked and secured doors in the whole of the prison - the one he was now eyeballing and the one that separated the guards from the prisoners.
Makeshift prison was just that - a makeshift prison that had never been meant to last as long as it had. The planetary justice system had always meant to build a new and larger facility to house the most disreputable and reprehensible of its population, but somehow the reforms that had been proposed never made it out of the committee room and then a new government party had been elected and on the heels of that fiasco had come the fall of the Empire, and in the following wake, everyone’s pocketbook was being unfairly squeezed by which ever faction happened to be in charge of the planet that particular day. Prison reform had been pushed aside then totally forgotten as the world around it concentrated on its day-to-day life. What did it matter if there was no cooling system on the prisoners level? At least the staff had the amenities they needed! So what if the water continually seeped inside the cells during the rainy season? Make the prisoners pump it dry! Who cared if the men and women trapped there had to live with the daily (and nightly) pestilience of mosquitoes, leeches and fleas? No strictly regulated weekly or even monthly doctor visits? Hey, if they get to see the physician once a year, they should be happy - we have to pay to see a doctor and they get it free! Mold, nail fungus, foot rot, convultions, upper respiratory infections that lasted for months - what did they expect, paradise? Maggots in their food? More protein! They were prisoners, not people like you and I and they deserve to suffer for their crimes!
In the end, the Imperials had taken control and the prison eventually came to their attention. A brief inspection and complete explanation of the running of the facility set the Imps to smiling and nodding; yes, yes, this will do quite nicely. Low cost, barely any maintenance, no high public profile to speak of and an oh-so-easy method of body disposal for the poor bastards who dropped dead - the swamp itself. But the clencher, the creme de la creme had been when the warden had shown his prestigous visitors ‘the secret weapon’ of Makeshift. Not too long after Makeshift opened, a far-sighted assistant warden had seen the potential of a furry worm called ‘ysalmiri’ and had brought this discovery to the notice of his superior. The Jedi were gone and Darksiders seemed to be popping out of the walls, causing mayhem and doling out death everywhere they went. Pros and cons were weighed and it was finally decided that a few of these inoffensive creatures should be incorporated into what little security the prison had need of. After all, what need was there for big, heavy guns and other weapons, locked doors and security codes when the best security of all was the swamp itself? All any prisoner needed to do to escape was open one of the first-floor doors leading outside to the swamp and to imminent freedom...and to a large population of meat eating reptiles that looked like a cross between a dewback and a crocodile. Twenty footers werent uncommon and the largest one measured (dead, of course!) was thirty eight feet, seven inches long and weighed in over three tons. Once or twice a year, some poor soul would reach the end of their proverbial rope and make a mad dash out a door, hoping to take the four-legged residents by surprise but inevitably it always ended the same way - with the guards hanging out of the second story windows filming the entire incident so that they could show the new prisoners what awaited them - while the foolish escapee was literally torn apart, screaming out his or her last. No one had ever escaped Makeshift alive. No one.
And no one was going to escape today, either...not exactly. Today was something different; someone was getting released. Wiping his forehead again, the pilot was pleased to hear the ‘whoosh’ of the security door as it slid aside. Two people emerged out onto the decking; a guard, clean and crisp in his uniform and a thin, bedraggled female, her prison grays almost black with dirt and mold. Unceremoniously, the guard deposited the woman on the floor of the transport and gave a nod to the pilot. Details of the woman's clearance had been previously radioed ahead to the guard shack on the other side of the swamp. No one entered or left the facility without getting cleared through there, first. Given the go-ahead, the operator thumbed the controls and backed the skiff out of its bay. Turning the nose around, he manuvered the craft back along the exact path it had came, the twenty minute ride made in complete silence. Over his shoulder, the man stole a look at the female. She was skin and bones. Matted, dirty blonde hair hung in strands over her face as she sat with her head bowed, not moving. It was possible that she didnt even realize she was being set free. Shrugging, the driver cut back the engines, slowing as he docked the skiff at the land-based sallyport. Stepping off the transport, the pilot waited for the woman to move. He had no intentions of touching her, himself. His glance at her had quickly spotted the lice crawling on her scalp. His job was done and all that was left was the final clearance by the last guard who now approached them.
Pulling on elbow-length sanitary gloves, the guard reached across the skiff's railing and dragged the female from the craft, a look of intense distaste marring his features. Once he had her on her feet, he shoved a loosely wrapped package into her arms before launching into the short but required speil.
“Sonya Sunn, you have served your time at Makeshift prison and are now free to go. Given to you is one set of clothing, one ticket to the closest spaceport and a one hundred credit chit. You may now leave.”
Turning smartly on his heels, the guard disappeared back inside the shed, quickly stripping off the soiled gloves and dropping them into a small disposal before grabbing a spray can of disinfectant and liberally spraying the rest of his uniform. Flicking a switch, he made a call back to the prison.
“Done.”
“Roger, I’ve got it marked down. Too bad youre on that side, today. We’ve got a body to dump and I know how much you enjoy watching the show.”
“Yeah? Who kicked it?”
“One of the lifers...a female...Daiquiri something or other.”
The talk continued unheard by either the skiff pilot or the woman who had begun ambling away from the sallyport. It would have created an uproar both in the prison and in the Imperial planetary headquarters had they known of the small mistake of identities that had just been made. At this very moment, the lifeless body of Sonya Sunn was being shredded and eaten while ‘Daiquiri something or other’ was putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get some distance between herself and the prison.