Brinus noticed his prison cellmate shaking like a leaf and covered in cold sweat. He had arrived two days earlier, and the symptoms of withdrawal were getting worse. Brinus knew what he was going through as he had seen it countless times before in his three years in the system. The cell was a standard six-by-eight cell with a replicator, a bunk bed with two beds, a metal toilet with a sink, and two ashtrays. His cellmate had photos of his family on the wall next to hi,m and Brinus had a pin up of a shirtless male model along against the wall with three years' worth of scratch marks on the other side of the wall.
The drug bliss was like a super-concentrated form of Earth heroin made with poppies that was just as potent as fentanyl. It provided a pleasant feeling, like floating on a cloud, and lasted a few hours. Inmate 22157, otherwise known as Hal, had been vomiting for two days. The guards issued extra rations to Brinus. Hal was too weak to use the replicator and wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. A guard came up to the cell, but Hal didn’t respond. He was completely zoned out, staring at the bottom of Brinus’s bunk. On it was a photo of his daughter and wife.
“You know why we put him in your cell, right? Remember the last time you helped someone like this?”
“Are ya givin’ me an order, sir?”
The guard grinned. “I don’t have to. You’re a syndicate man.” The guard walked away whistling and twirling his baton.
Hours passed as Hal continued vomiting. Brinus walked over to the replicator once Hal laid back down on the bunk. “Computer! Make some orange-flavored liquid IV for bliss withdrawal, my special blend. prisoner code INMATE 4546.”
In a flurry of blue light, a plastic bottle appeared with a clear liquid because there were no dyes in water. He looked over at his cellmate and could see the exhaustion in his eyes. His lips were slightly chapped and crying out for some refreshment. Brinus held out his hand to show that he meant no harm and approached Hal to give him the drink.
“Why are you helping me?” asked Hal, after taking a few sips while shaking.
Brinus smiled and used the towels the guards gave him to dry Hal after he got a few sips in. “You saved your kid from an abusive relationship. You deserve a fucking medal.”
“Thanks.” He had bags under his eyes as Hal hadn’t slept in two days.
hought Brinus. The guard told him what this inmate had done, and the other prisoners viewed him as a hero. A man who saves his daughter from a predator doesn’t belong in jail. This was why they put him with Brinus because he was a drug addict, and they knew Brinus would take care of him through the withdrawals. The syndicate taught him to look after the innocent and to help those in need. The reality proved quite different, but the philosophy stuck with him.
Hal finished the drink, and Brinus returned to his own bunk. The guards came by an hour later, pulled Brinus up to his feet, and forced him against the wall. He resisted at first, but it didn’t help, as he was cuffed with ease. He followed the guard through the prison halls toward the parole room. The shackles and cuffs on his wrists and ankles clinked in the silence, and his icy-blue eyes glared from behind his thick blond hair at the guard in front of him. He almost laughed at the fact that this man was in charge of making sure he got from point A to point B. He was at least six inches taller than the man and could easily knock him out or just flat outrun him. He shifted uncomfortably in the itchy orange scrubs that were two inches too short. Their only saving grace was that they were loose on his lean frame.
He’d been dragged, unceremoniously, from his cell at 9 pm by the guard sneering, “The big man wants to see you. Wants to check if you’ve reformed.” Despite his annoyance, he let curiosity win and allowed the guard to take him up without a fight.
Long Ho, the prison warden, and the prison psychologist sat at a table in the parole room when they forced Brinus inside. He was placed into a lone chair in the center of the room, and the cuffs were removed. Brinus shrugged and leaned back in the chair, his legs kicked out in front of him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and lit it with a steady hand as he stared down the committee in front of him. All three wore black suits and identical, disapproving scowls. The room felt like death. It was dark and dank, the heavy air thick with impending decisions. Would it be his salvation or his doom?
Long Ho spoke first, sitting forward with a face devoid of all emotion. “What’s your opinion of Harper Magnus?”
Brinus took a long drag and let his head fall backward, blowing the smoke out in a cloud above him with a wry laugh. “What’s this here shitshow ‘bout?”
A guard hit Brinus in the stomach, taking him by surprise and nearly knocking the wind out of him, while the warden stood so quickly that his chair fell backward. He slammed his hands down on the table and screamed, “Answer the goddamn question, Helios!”
Brinus glared at the guard for a moment, then forced his shoulders to relax and sat forward. He took another drag, exhaling slowly and staring down the committee through the smoke, his face impassive as he thought of what he should say. He knew he had to tell them what they wanted to hear. It was his only way out of here. Out of the syndicate. He’d heard the Navy was recruiting ex-cons and it sounded a damn site better than three more years in this dump. Another drag and another exhale of smoke as he said, “He led me astray. I regret gettin’ with him.”
“Why do you regret your relationship with Harper?”
Brinus stared at Long Ho, forcing his expression to remain neutral despite the rage he felt bubbling underneath his skin. He took a deep breath and kept his voice measured as he said, “It was a mistake.”
It wasn’t. He’d loved Harper, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he could.
“What makes you think it was a mistake?”
Another deep inhale filled his lungs with smoke, which he held for a moment before blowing it out toward the ceiling. “I thought it was love, but then it…” Brinus caught himself as he almost said something.
Long Ho smiled. “Do you still love him? You can just tell us.”
Brinus clenched his fists. He couldn’t afford to snap right now. He needed an out, and this was the less favorable of the two options.
“No, sir I don’t. It was a mistake, and I won’t do it again.” The anger flashed in his eyes for a moment, but he managed to stay calm because of the cigarette.
Long Ho handed the guard a folder. “Prove you’ve changed. You’re licensed to commit a burglary at the enclosed address. Details are in the folder. Good luck.”
They wanted him to commit a crime, to prove that he was reformed from doing crime. Brinus smiled and shook his head, crushing out the last of his cigarette on the floor. he thought He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and fixed his eyes on Long Ho, “I’m all ears.”
Five hours later, the planet’s city lights were visible in the night sky as Brinus climbed down the walls of a five-story gray-brick mansion like a spider. He used the gaudy marble columns as cover, keeping to their shadows as he descended, a black backpack slung across his back. He was on a timer. The police would be there soon to investigate a physical assault on two of the servants who worked in the house.
He landed softly on the manicured lawn below. Just as his feet touched the ground, multiple spotlights cracked to life and focused on Brinus. Two cops popped out of the tall grass, guns drawn and pointed at his head.
“Police! Put your hands where we can see them!”
. He felt his heart skip a beat with joy.
Brinus realized there was no escape as two more officers flanked him from behind. He felt a sick pleasure surge through his veins at the sight of them. There were only two ways he was going to get out of prison. Do Long Ho’s dirty work or die, and he knew which way he would prefer. With an almost manic smile, Brinus punched a cop in the face, breaking his nose, and drew his own gun as the cop staggered, clutching his bleeding face. Another officer pulled out a can of saffron gas and attempted to spray Brinus in the face. Brinus pointed his gun at one of the policemen and shot twice, missing on purpose. He was ready to die.
Everything in his life, up to this point had been nothing but a shit show. He’d grown up in foster care with abusive parents. Ended up homeless by nine, and when he finally found love in the syndicate, it had been ripped from him. Losing Harper had broken him, and after a mental breakdown, he’d finally landed in prison. Now, when he was eligible to be drafted into the Navy and get out of the hell hole he’d crawled out of, they wanted to drag his happy ass back into it.
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The police froze. Something was off. Brinus stood with his arms wide open as if daring them to shoot.
“Go on! Fuckin’ kill me!” screamed Brinus, pointing the gun at another officer.
The officers exchanged looks, and one nodded, pressing a button on his radio just as Brinus fired two shots at his feet.
“Are y’all a bunch of cowards!? Do it!”
Not a minute passed, and they heard the whir of an engine followed by the appearance of a police air-cruiser that touched down on the well-manicured lawn. Just as the sergeant stepped out of the car, the officer to Brinus’s left lunged and slammed his taser into his back, but Brinus hadn't spent the last three years in prison knitting. He was six feet four inches and 220 lbs of solid muscle; his body seized, but he didn’t go down. A second cop jammed another taser into his pistol hand, causing him to release the weapon. A third cop jammed a taser into his stomach, and he still didn’t go down. The officer with the broken nose took his chance and lunged, beating Brinus until several of his teeth were damaged or broken. Within minutes, he was covered in blood and bruises. slipped into unconsciousness, he thought, “”
They picked up his unconscious body and threw him into the back of the cruiser. He remained unconscious for the entire ride to the station, only coming to when they manhandled him from the back seat. They went through the full booking process — strip-searching him, scanning his thumbprint and microchip, taking his mugshot, and getting his ID. They signed him up for his cigarette rations and gave him his prison garb.
After what felt like hours, the giant of a nineteen-year-old was pushed into yet another cell, this time in a bright yellow jumpsuit that at least fit him better than the orange scrubs of the syndicate prison. His eyes darted around, and he placed a Tarken Tea cig behind his ear as he sat on the bunk of the holding cell.
Blood dripped down into his lap from his mouth and nose, and he sighed. This time, he was busted. There was no getting out of it. The pain and metallic taste in his mouth from the blood were overwhelming, but there was a sort of satisfaction that stemmed from it. His plan to leave the syndicate worked. Now, he would wait and see if the Navy would take an interest in him or if he would be in prison for the rest of his life.
Three months passed, and a humanlike ginger cat in a navy captain’s uniform entered the city jail’s visitor lobby. The shirt's brass buttons were undone to reveal the cream-colored undershirt, and a nametag over the left pocket introduced him as Captain Plato of .
The booking sergeant, who had been reading a magazine, jumped to her feet in a rush to salute. The captain touched his hat and gave a curt nod.
“What can I do for you, captain?” asked the sergeant.
“Sergeant,” the captain sneered. “I need your criminal records and police files on prisoner four-five-four-six arrested and booked for crime fifty-seven. He has his bail hearing in about two weeks. Our profiling software has identified him as a person of interest.”
The sergeant’s eyes widened, and she stared at the captain with an open mouth. Crime 57 was code for a minimum of four felonies against a nobleman’s estate. It came with a mandatory life without parole after being found guilty. After pulling herself together, the booking sergeant sighed and went to the computer terminal, cursing under her breath all the while. She sifted through arrest records until she found the file in question and transferred it to the proper terminals. When she finished, she turned back to the captain and said, “You can wait here while the interrogation room is prepared.”
The captain gave her a condescending smile, and the sergeant rolled her eyes. “Will Corporal Simous retrieve Prisoner four-five-four-six? Put him in interrogation room four,” she said into the chip in her wrist. She looked at the captain and continued with a scowl, “The amount of paperwork this visit will generate will keep me busy for hours.”
She snapped her fingers at the captain to get his attention and motioned for him to leave. He glared at her, turned on his heel, and walked out of the office.
Brinus had his right arm under his thin, scratchy, pillow. He had a smile on his face as he flicked through his personal hologram album, looking back on some of the few good memories from his youth. He teared up as he hovered over the hologram of Harper in the park with a beer in his hand and a teasing smile on his lips as he glanced up at the camera. His shaggy brown hair hung in his striking green eyes, and even if he was sickly thin, he was beautiful. Brinus’s eyes watered, and tears ran down his cheeks as he remembered the fun they’d had in the Saffron City park, outsmarting cops who tried to arrest them. Harper was his first love. His crazy, party-loving, wild card. He taught Brinus to loosen up and be himself, the young rebel he was today directly came from his first relationship.
Brinus wiped his eyes. That day would have been Harper’s nineteenth birthday. They would have celebrated by getting blackout drunk and high as kites. He flicked to the next hologram of Harper smoking his first cigarette and smiled sadly. He’d almost fallen from the dizziness and coughed for twenty minutes.
Brinus was going through his memories one after the other when his cellmate coughed. “Is that Harper Magnus?” He asked with a sneer in his voice.
“Yeah. Today would have been his nineteenth birthday. We were 16 when we met.”
“It’s a shame what the syndicate did to him. Was he worth trying to kill yourself over?” The cellmate cocked his head back and laughed a good belly laugh for a moment or two, showing his stained yellow teeth.
Brinus put the hologram back on the side table and crossed his arms. “What do ya want?”
“I want the tax we discussed. It’s time to pay up or else.” The cellmate smiled a wide, toothy grin.
Two men came into the cell and blocked out the door. Brinus handed over the commissary goods. He could take on one of the three men, but not all of them.
This sort of thing was regular. Ever since people found out he was a gay syndicate member, gangs had been extorting taxes from him. He felt powerless and hopeless as if he couldn’t defend himself.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Remember who runs this ward, and it ain’t the Orin Syndicate.” All three men snickered.
Brinus gave him a screw-you smile. “Have an awesome day, love, and may the temple spirits bless your heart, my sweet summer child.”
The three men looked at him for a second, their brows furrowed and mouths slightly open. Had he just insulted them? Brinus’s cellmate studied him for a few moments before he finally snorted and led the way out of the cell.
Brinus waited a few minutes, attempting to put the incident out of his mind. Once he was sure they were gone, he headed to the common room, where two prison guards were waiting. They approached him and wordlessly head out a pair of cuffs. Brinus sighed and held out his wrists, allowing himself to be bound and led out of the room.
He followed the officers to the interrogation room, where they led him to a table and cuffed him to it. The room was cold and sterile with bared windows, like the rest of the prison. Two metal chairs sat on either side of a metal table with a plastic ashtray in the center. About a dozen cigarette butts littered the tray and the metal around it. The floor was cold, slick tile, with a drain under the single, bright, fluorescent light that glared off the white tiled walls and the unmistakable one-way mirror that sat in front of him.
He glared at it, until the door to the room opened again, and a Navy Captain stepped through.
His golden yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at Brinus as he crossed the room and sat down at military attention, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “My name is Captain Plato of Her Grace’s Starship Victory. I am here to discuss your draft in the Confederate Navy. You will address me as sir, or Captain, or Captain Sir. Understand?” He crossed his legs and looked him in the eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Plato crossed his arms and legs and twitched his whiskers. “I went through your file. You were booked for breaking and entering, possession of burglary tools… Hell, the list goes on and on and on. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just let you rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life.”
Brinus shrugged, “I could do with a new ’venture.”
Brinus put a cigarette in his mouth after an awkward moment of silence and clicked his lighter.
The captain snapped, “You sure?”
“The Navy sounds like a fresh start.” he tilted his head back and blew smoke to the ceiling.
“You won’t be thieving on my ship. Think you can handle that?”
“Life in prison’s a wake-up call.” Brinus looked out of the windows at the end of the room with a thousand-yard stare.
Plato sized him up, his whiskers twitching in thought.
The captain rose from his seat and looked out the window with his hands behind his back. “I am going to draft you and give you a trial run. You will be a Naval Cadet starting tomorrow. Clear?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Brinus said.
Plato gave him a curt nod and continued, “I will move up your bail hearing to the first thing tomorrow morning and pay your bond with the ship’s general fund. I will talk to the judge in charge of your case this evening. Guards!” He banged once on the door, then stepped back for it to be opened, then the captain.
Brinus stared blankly at the wall, letting what had just happened sink in. He’d been drafted. His plan has actually worked. But… Was it really worth it? The navy was going to be a change. He’d lived his whole life by his own rules, and now he was going to have to answer to countless people. There was a saying where he’d grown up in the swamps of Otis Datis, “Be careful what you wish for.” Maybe that saying had been right.
He sat in silence as he continued smoking until a guard came in and removed him from the interrogation chamber.
After a short court hearing the next day, Brinus found himself at the bustling Confederation spaceport at exactly 9:30 am. The orbital spaceport adhered to the familiar template of a standard Confederate facility, complete with a bustling dry dock, maintenance droids going every which way, and a dedicated pit crew of starship engineers. The dry dock itself was colossal, stretching across twenty city blocks. This imposing expanse was tailor-made to accommodate vessels of staggering proportions, including carriers, command ships, and formidable titan-class battleships. Currently, it was in orbit over the tropical planet Otis Datis and had as well as two titan-class battleships in dock.
Captain Plato yelled across the drydock, motioning for Brinus to come with his right arm, “Brinus, quit your dawdling and get your ass to the docking bay!”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Plato scowled, “I didn’t hear you, cadet!”
Brinus yelled, “Sir, yes sir.” Captain Plato nodded and turned to his first officer, and Brinus sighed. Well, at least it was better than spending the rest of his life in prison..
“Commander!” Plato snapped at the man to his right. “Take the tall kid to the data center and then commissary! I want him at Shark Attack tomorrow, first thing!”
The Commander turned to the cadet and flicked his head towards the door. “Follow me!”
“Yes, Sir!”
For the first time since Harper’s death, Brinus smiled. Really smiled as an odd sense of relief washed over him. It may be tough, but at least he was finally out.
I worked hard on editing and rewriting the first chapter. I hope y'all enjoy it! If it's too dark or y'all have any feedback, let me know so I can tweak it a little more.
