Tales From the Terran Republic

"Well, it seems that we are going to get a chance to get to know each other after all!" Pam said cheerfully from behind a thick transparent partition. "Goody!"

Sheloran just sat there on her padded cube miserably.

"Quite the scene in the courtroom!" Pam said brightly. "Woo! I have to say it takes a rare individual to tell any Terran judge to get fucked, but Judge Thaddeus Carter himself… damn! You really let him freaking have it!"

"Yay me," Sheloran said glumly.

"Yeah… maybe not the smartest move, but if you are going to go down, go down guns blazing!" Pam said brightly. "You sure you aren't a little Terran in a frog suit?"

"Nope, just a Plath… a very unlucky Plath..."

"Oh, I'm going to have to call bullshit on that one," Pam smiled. "Before we continue, I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?"

Pam drew herself up straight in her chair.

"I'm agent Pamela Dawson!" she said cheerfully. "I'm your profiler!"

"My profiler?"

"Yep!" Pam exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's my job to figure out what makes you tick, and let me tell you, that's going to be fun!"

Sheloran looked at her suspiciously.

"Don't feel too special. Most people here have a profiler," she said with a grin. "You guys are just too interesting!"

"We are?"

"Sure!" she replied. "We host one of the greatest collections of… unique personalities, truly gifted humans and Kalesh, exotic xeno threats, and the like anywhere in the galaxy! It's a gathering of extremes, true one of a kinds! Normal humans, or any of the standard races for that matter, are boring! You guys? Not boring! I mean, a Plath? Here?!? If someone told me two days ago that I would be chatting with a Plath guest, I would have told you that you were high… (and to give me some!)."

Pam leaned forward on her desk and whispered into the mic.

"Actually, I would have had to look up what a Plath even was… and THEN I would have told you that I wanted a hit of what you were smoking! Oh! Speaking of..."

Pam tapped on her tablet, and a doorway opened. An armed and armored combat drone floated in…

Carrying a tray that had a bottle of absinthe (her favorite brand!), a beautiful absinthe glass, chilled water, a slotted spoon, and a small dish of sugar cubes.

"Care for a drink?" she asked. "We took the liberty of sneaking a peek into your hotel, and this stuff would be repugnant beyond words to your roommate, so we figured it was for you!"

"Um… thanks?" Sheloran said as she walked over. She opened the bottle and took a sniff.

"If we wanted to poison or drug you, we would just gas you!" Pam said cheerfully as she pointed up at some very suspicious-looking vents in the ceiling. "Or we'd have one of the bots hold you down..."

Sheloran carefully prepared herself a much-needed drink and took a long sip. Oh, she needed that.

"Is that your favorite?" Pam asked. "You get an alcohol ration. It would have to come pre-mixed, though. We give you a drink or six a day, not a whole fucking bottle!"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Sheloran as she sipped her absinthe suspiciously (still drank it, though).

"I was wondering when you would ask," Pam smiled. "Everyone asks that eventually. The easy answer is because it's easy."

Sheloran just looked at her in confusion.

"You are among the elite. You guys are the worst of the worst, the deadliest of the deadly, the baddest of the bad. You guys thrive on misery. Adversity empowers you. Brutality only gives you strength. Hell, most of you actually like it."

"I don't like it!" Sheloran squeaked, sipping her absinthe.

"We could make this a living hell," Pam chuckled, "but why exert ourselves so much just to suit you, make you stronger, more dangerous? Tartarus isn't a 'jail' or even a 'prison'. It's a warehouse. Our assigned task is to store some of the most dangerous biological weapons in the galaxy, people like you. We aren't concerned with punishment or reform. Both concepts are a complete waste of time when dealing with individuals like yourself or anyone else here. Do you have any idea who we have in here?!? We can't do shit to them! What they have been through… what they put themselves through just for fun sometimes… It's literally impossible to punish them. Beat you down? Seriously? The concept is laughable. What lash would we use on someone like Tiberius Shane? Starve you? What privations would we use on 'The Maiden' that could bring her to her knees? Intimidate you? What would we possibly confront Kvash The Wounder with to make him flinch? It's a complete waste of effort. Shit. You fucks would just view it as free entertainment."

Sheloran's eyes widened as she sipped her drink. Who was she going to be tossed in here with?

"The list goes on and on," Pam chuckled. "Nobody in here is going to break. If they could safely be brought to heel, they wouldn't be here in the first place!"

"I can!" Sheloran squeaked nervously.

Pam just laughed.

"You are actually a prime example," she chuckled. "I'm still crunching your numbers, but you are 'just a normal everyday Plath', completely 'nice', totally 'docile' (at least where violence goes)..."

"I am!"

"… until you get 'pushed'..." Pam smiled wickedly. "Then you enter some sort of fugue state and become incredibly dangerous with the reaction times and target acquisition speed easily equal to that of a sufficiently trained, fully enhanced human special operative. We have you on tape, both your own and the restaurant's footage… would you like to see?"

Sheloran just shook her head.

"Well, take my word for it," Pam enthused, "when you blackout shit gets freaky, and you can go toe to toe with anyone, not just Harkeen thugs, and that's before we even begin to talk about your 'other abilities'. It's in our best interest to keep you feeling comfortable and, even more importantly, safe. I would much rather deal with you than… you..."

"Other abilities?"

"Your innate technological abilities for one!" Pam exclaimed. "You just throw together the coolest little toys! The stuff you normally make is neat! The shit you made while in the Twilight Zone… The techies are still trying to figure out your Barn-Mart specials! Any info you feel like laying on us would be deeply appreciated!"

"I… I learned it from a video game..." Sheloran stammered.

"I like you!" Pam replied cheerfully. "I'm not sure if you actually believe that or are just a really good liar, but I'm going to let you in on something," she said as she pulled out the pistol she discarded in front of the hospital from a drawer in her desk, "This didn't come from a video game. We checked them all."

"It… It was based on one! That's where I learned-"

"Advanced electronics? Weaponsmithing? High-level electric and electronic engineering? Advanced physics?" Pam asked, "And something else that we are still trying to figure out… Even this little toy has some very smart, very educated people very, very excited."

"I just tweaked it a little," Sheloran said uncomfortably.

"Sure you did," Pam winked. "Those little tweaks have some quite highly paid people not only a little confused but actually a bit pissed off. Why didn't you just use this little monster? It was certainly up for the task!"

"Because I wanted them to-" Sheloran started to hiss and then clamped her hands over her mouth with a squeak.

"Suffer?" Pam asked, her eyes gleaming malevolently? "Oh, don't worry," she smiled. "I'm not DOJ, and we have little interest in supporting their little games. We honestly do not care."

"DOJ?"

"Department of Justice," Pam smiled. "I don't get paid to do those people's jobs for them. I mean, if we catch you planning a crime outside of this facility, then yeah, we clue them in, but as far as helping them with a current investigation or trial? Pssh. I've got better things to do than become an active threat for one of our residents or guests. I mean, we think we got all the bases covered, but… we aren't you now are we? I am NOT going to be the reason you blackout next time! They don't pay me nearly enough for that bullshit."

"Who… who are you with then?"

"The facility was built by, and the exterior and outer spaces are guarded by the Republic armed forces," Pam replied. "As far as the rest of the internal and administrative staff and I go, let's just say that we serve the Republic and leave it at that."

"Intelligence?" Sheloran asked in alarm.

"...We serve the Republic..." Pam smiled. "As a guest, all you need to know is that you will be well provided for and are completely safe. Everywhere you will go is covered by auto-turrets and patrolled by combat drones, and we don't use stunners. If someone starts trouble, then they will stop… instantly. Even you can't dodge them. Please inform your alter-ego. Even the most aggressive, violent, combative person here isn't keen to throw their life away when there won't even be a fight. No fun, no glory, just… darkness. That plus our two wardens, warden lassitude and warden corpulence keep most people in line. I won't bother telling you to relax or try to reassure you further, but you will see. Things aren't bad here at all! In fact, a lot of people are very happy to call this place home!"

A second combat bot entered the room carrying a small athletic bag and a tablet.

"That is your bag," Pam said cheerfully. "You got a change of clothes, some undies (based on what we found in your hotel), and some slippers that I'm pretty sure you will like. There is also a tablet. You can use that to check the schedule, watch some vids, and communicate with me, of course!" Pam enthused. "You need anything or have any questions… or just want to talk, feel free to give me a call at any time. I do eat and sleep, but I check my messages all the time!"

"Um… thanks..." Sheloran said dubiously.

"And if you want to chat with someone out there in the real world, you can request a monitored line!" Pam enthused. "Someone's going to be listening in, of course, but at least it's something, right?"

"Uh, ok..." Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. She would send messages through Baxlon. That was probably monitored, too, but if they acted on it, Baxlon would eat them alive!

"Just follow the bot, and it will take you to your new temporary home (fingers crossed, right?)," Pam smiled.

"Follow me, ma'am," one of the bots said in a disturbingly human-sounding voice as it hovered off.

Sheloran, clutching her tablet and bag, followed.

After she left, Pam's friendly smile faded to an expressionless mask, her warm eyes glazing over and turning to ice.

She pulled out a communicator.

"Hello," a dead, expressionless male voice answered.

"I have a candidate," Pam replied with a cold purr. "She needs to become a resident. See to it."

"I will inform the DOJ," the man replied and hung up.

Pam reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a simple white armband emblazoned with a three-headed hound embroidered in black and silver thread.

She strapped it to her right arm and, with near mechanical precision, rose and walked to the door.

As it opened, two guards leveled their shotguns at her.

She smiled at the fear in their eyes. They lived only because she let them, and they knew it.

"I'm ready to return to my cell," she said in a dead voice.

***

Sheloran was shown to a small cell with a bunk bed and a pair of desks… as well as a really, really exposed shower/toilet/sink combo.

Wow. It was just hanging out right there in the corner, just like she would be whenever she used it.

At least the door could close (and lock?) whenever she wanted it to.

If the door can close and lock, that means…

She searched the room and, yep, sensors. Her every single move was tracked.

At least they weren't cameras. So she could at least hope for a modicum of privacy.

She turned to the bunks. The bottom one was occupied, so she started setting up on the top one.

"Hey," a male voice said.

It was one of the guys from the hall that was clapping when she lost her pooping mind (again).

Wait! There were men here?!?

"You're a man!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Was last time I checked," he laughed. "Guys and girls are all mixed together here… I know. Weird, right?"

Sheloran just nodded.

"They say that the place is so secure they only need to make one. If anyone acts stupid…" he put two fingers to his head "Bang! Besides, everyone is fucking deadly here, and everybody knows it, so nobody is someone you want to fuck with. They say it helps keep us 'properly socialized' or some bullshit like that. Don't know about that, but it's nice having women around, even if I don't have a girlfriend… yet! Name's Roop. Nice to meet you!"

"Sheloran," she replied.

"I heard you today in the cubes!" he said. "Fucking badass, man!"

"Yeah, I sure told them..." Sheloran said ruefully.

"Oh, your cellie is in the dayroom," Roop said. "She practically lives in there. She's one of the Grimdark Fifty-Thousand nerds. It's almost like you have a private room!"

"Well, that will make pooping easier."

Roop burst out laughing.

"You're alright," he said. "So, what are you in for?"

"Oh, I really shouldn't-"

Roop laughed some more.

"Cha-ka!" he laughed as he mimicked cracking a whip. "Just kidding! Everyone knows why you're here! Those fucking Threen picked the wrong madam to fuck with! Fucking brutal, man! The way you just walked in there… and then just sat down and ordered fucking breakfast!… Invited fucking SWAT to join you!… Didn't even flinch when they hit you with the flashbangs!… Just raised your fucking coffee mug!… Pure motherfucking class!"

Sheloran winced.

"Hey, you wanna go grab a beer?" he asked. "I have two comin'."

"Oh, I appreciate it, but-"

"I know, 'nothing's free in the joint', but trust me, here it fucking is! I get six beers a day, not counting all the weed! You won't owe me a fucking thing!"

"You already sniffing around the new girl?" a husky female voice laughed as a huge human woman loomed into view. "I done told you you will probably have to wait till you become a resident to hook up!"

A gigantic tattooed woman gave Roop an affectionate headlock.

"Don't mind Roop," the woman laughed. "Horny little fuck's been humpin' everybody's leg since he got here!"

"It wasn't like that!" Roop protested. "I was just welcoming the new guy!"

"Uh-huh..." The mountain of a woman laughed. "Tell you what," she grinned. "If you act right, you can come by my room later, and I'll give you a little bit."

Roop's eyes lit up.

"Really?!?"

"Sure! Why not!" the giant woman said. "Your sack must be about ready to pop! How long has it been?"

"Nine years..." Roop said, almost whining.

"Well, no wonder you are so wound up!" she laughed. "Let me take care of business here, and I'll take you to heaven right after!"

"Really?!?!?" Roop replied.

"Get a load of this guy," the woman laughed. "Yes, Roop, really. Now go to my room and wait." "Yes, ma'am!" he exclaimed almost in ecstasy.

He started to sprint away but paused and turned to Sheloran.

"I was serious about grabbing a beer with ya!"

"Get out of here!" The woman said, swatting Roop's butt.

He left at a sprint.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!!" he voice cried out as he ran.

"Forgive Roop," she laughed. "He really wasn't trying to trick you into owing him. He's just trying to be nice. Hard to believe he chopped up his entire family."

"Eeep!"

"But we don't judge here," the woman said. "It's one of our rules. I'm Lee, but everyone calls me Momma Bear. I'm the resident advisor for the block."

"Resident advisor?"

"Yeah," Lee replied. "I'm a 'resident' here, a lifer, and I live down here with you guests to help you guys out. Are you familiar with the trustee system?"

Sheloran shook her head.

"Well, here in Tartarus, we prisoners operate this place. We keep it running, keep it clean, and keep it orderly. You will only see the guards when you are in the outer 'shell'. Once you enter the 'core', it's just us… and the sensors, turrets, and bots, of course. We trustees are the bosses. We assign jobs, wipe noses, swat butts, and do whatever else that needs doing. You have any questions or need something, I'm your girl. Just come see Momma Bear, and I'll point you in the right direction."

"Yes, ma'am," Sheloran said meekly.

"You can drop that 'ma'am' bullshit. Call me either Lee or Momma Bear. We are here for a reason, after all! I'm no better than you! I've just been here longer, that's all!" she said with an odd look in her eye for a moment.

She shook herself.

"Anyway, stash your shit, and I will show you around!"

***

"… and don't screw with the bots," Lee said as they strolled the block. "They aren't packing stunners, and they will kill you. If they say something, listen. They will only say it once."

Sheloran just nodded as she looked around.

"And see the bot with the gold markings?" Lee continued. "Those are manned. A guard is piloting it. You want to talk to the man, just talk to one of those. If you ever have a problem with someone or feel even a little unsafe and you can't find me, or if you don't want to talk to me about it for some reason, go to a goldie. Just don't try to 'take care of it' yourself. There are too many turrets and drones. You will die. I'm serious about that. Don't test them."

"Ok," Sheloran squeaked.

"Let's see..." Lee said as she looked out across the common area. "There!" she exclaimed as she pointed at a specially decorated gold drone. "See the one with the star? That's officer Jax! He's the block's concierge officer. He's your point of contact as far as the man goes. Between him and me, we can take care of whatever you need. Let's go say hello!"

***

Officer Jax was really nice.

After they met with him, Lee said that she had to go and 'take care' of Roop.

With a big grin and a wave, she left.

When it was time for lunch, Sheloran was amazed. Everything was so yummy! Oh, it was so nice! There was this massive salad bar loaded down with apples, oranges, and bananas and those wonderful tomatoes that Terra had. Everything was so fresh! They say that it's because they grow a lot of it here!

Oh! And the olive bar! Great Prophet, it was so good!

And you could go back as much as you wanted!

They even had these 'fountains' that had chocolate pouring down the sides in thick sheets, and you could dip fruit and bread and all sorts of things in it! Wow! She had never seen anything like that before!

She didn't have her dispensary card yet, but it was "sangria day" so she could get a glass or two (She discovered that she absolutely adored sangria!), and nobody minded. They just said that she could just 'pour in' next time. In fact, they insisted and kept filling up her cup until a bot said that she had had enough. (Ok, just one more glass, then that's it!)

She was still nervous as anything, but everyone was really nice to her. In fact, she was a bit of a celebrity. It turns out that she was all over the news and everyone knew what she had done and what she had said to Judge Dredd.

There were even people who wanted to be her boyfriend!…

And one person who wanted to be her girlfriend!

Everyone wants to be my 'friend' except for a pooping Plath! Sheloran thought ruefully as she politely declined yet another offer.

She was a little bit flattered, though. When people expressed 'interest' before, it was because she was a 'cute' little xeno. They were interested in 'what' she was…

Here, they were offering because of 'who' she was, what she had done. They wanted to be with her because she was a badass, one of them.

It was different… and a bit exciting if she was perfectly honest. They actually wanted her! It didn't matter if she was weird… or even that she was "bad"… They actually wanted her!

Maybe she could… No! Absolutely not! Poop! What was she thinking?

And she wasn't 'one of them'!…

Was she?…

Completely overwhelmed, she retreated to her room and locked the door.

She hoped that her cellie was nice.

She pulled a really nice blanket over her head and hid for a while.

***

[Chatroom UNDEFINED]

[Private Chatroom UNDEFINED]

[Present: Bunny]

[Interpol-2 has entered the chat]

///Bunny: Oh shit! Five-Oh! Five-Oh!///

///Interpol-2: Good afternoon, Bunny :) Keeping out of trouble (at least in the Republic)? ///

///Bunny: Funny you should mention that...///

///Interpol-2: Goddammit, Bunny! YOU PROMISED!///

///Bunny: I promise a lot of shit :D ///

///Interpol-2: So why the summons? You just wanted to gloat?///

///Bunny: I need a teeny, tiny, almost insignificant little favor.///

///Interpol-2: You actually expect me to assist you in… BREAKING THE LAW?!?///

///Bunny: Yep! :D ///

///Interpol-2: I should just log off and issue an alert, but I simply have to know. What the hell are you planning, and exactly why the FUCK should I help you?///

///Bunny: You know the Tartarus Detention Facility?///

///Interpol-2: Bunny… You can't be serious!///

///Bunny: :) ///

///Interpol-2: One. It's impossible, even for you and two… there is no two! It's suicide!///

///Bunny: Care to make a little wager then? The bet: We hit the place, break out exactly who we want and only who we want, and then escape without a trace.///

///Interpol-2: I know we've enjoyed a little wager or two in the past but not this time! This is too much! The fucking Cerberus program is in there! Please tell me this isn't about them!///

///Bunny: Relax, we aren't touching any of the hounds. Even we have our limits! No, this is just good old-fashioned high treason. ///

///Interpol-2: High treason? WTF? I thought you guys were on our side!///

///Bunny: Relax, it has to do with Kung-Fu Cunny. ///

///Interpol-2: Oh, that's cool then! :D I'll take a piece of that action! (but no touchy Cerberus!) God! It would be GREAT if Tart got taken down a peg or three!///

///Bunny: We're going after a guest. We aren't getting anywhere near the residential levels.///

///Interpol-2: And you need me to make this happen?///

///Bunny: Hell no! The day I need your help to pull off a job is the day I start doing people's taxes for a living!///

///Interpol-2: Then what do you want?///

///Bunny: You want to hear something fucking hilarious?///

///Interpol-2: I could use a laugh. ///

***

Sheloran entered the dining hall expectantly.

If anything, lunch was just a warm-up!

Supper was amazing! She grabbed a plate of grilled veggies and gleefully raided the salad bar.

She paused over the pile of goodies in front of her as she gave thanks to the Great Prophet for the feast. She might be stuck here for well… maybe forever… but at least the food was good!

She wondered what their gardens were like. She bet they were fantastic and wondered how long it would be before she could see them.

As she raised the first forkful of goodness to her waiting mouth, a blur zipped in and landed across from her.

"Hi!" a slightly built blonde female exclaimed. "I'm Zippo! Your cellie! Sorry I didn't meet you before, but the Bionids were launching a raid, and we had to put those foul xenos down in the name of the Emperor!… Sorry… I don't mean 'xeno' like you. I mean 'xeno' like xenos! I play Grimdark! Do you like Grimdark? It's awesome! You can read my books if you want! We have a great community here! I hear it's even better once you become a Resident! You slash stuff up, huh? I saw the news! Pretty cool! I like fire! I burn stuff! I just can't help it! I just love to watch flames, you know! Did you know that fire meets all of the requirements for life itself? It does! That's how I got here! I just kept burning stuff! Did you know you can start a fire with just..."

Oh, Creators... Sheloran thought in horror. This was her pooping cell mate?… Great…

"… And they were really mean to me there, so I burned them up! Oh, how they screamed! It was so funny!..."

Wait. What? Sheloran thought in alarm as she caught that last bit.

"You burned your cellmates?" Sheloran asked, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Well, the people in my bay," Zippo replied. "We didn't have 'cells'. We all lived in one big room, which made it really easy to get them all! See, what I did was..."

I have a killer for a cellmate… Great… Sheloran thought glumly and then chuckled. Of course she did. She was here, after all.

"… and then BOOM! WOOSH!" Zippo said as she threw her arms wide. "Everything burned! I used to be a chemistry major! Straight A's! That's how I knew you could make-"

"Excuse me," Sheloran said after she swallowed a slice of perfectly ripe avocado.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you burn your fellow prisoners again?"

"Because they wouldn't stop beating on me! They said I talked too much! So anyway, like I was saying, I used to be a chemistry major, so I knew you could take the detergent and mix it with..."

There it is, Sheloran chuckled. She was wondering where the turd in the salad was. But, at least she spent most of the day playing that Grimdark game.

"… but don't worry! I'm not burning anything anymore! I can't! I don't wanna die… or worse!"

"Worse?"

"You DON'T want to go where they send you if you get 'voted off of the island'!"

"Where's that?" Sheloran asked, quite concerned. Knowing the universe's fondness for pooping on her head, she would probably go there too, sooner or later.

"Oh, it's bad!" Zippo said with big eyes. "It's called-"

Zippo trailed off into wide-eyed silence as four elderly people quietly walked up.

"Good evening, Zip," an old man said with a smile. "Mind if we chat with your friend here?"

"Sure!" Zippo squeaked and quickly grabbed her tray, and fled.

"You're welcome," the man said as he sat down across from her. "Five minutes with that girl is more than enough for anyone. I'm Martin," he said as he extended his hand.

"Sheloran, nice to meet you," she replied as she shook it.

"Kid," Martin said, "You got style. You handled your business yourself. You didn't send some punk. You even did it with style. Didn't bother trying to run, just sat yourself down and ordered breakfast, even tipped your waiter. Class act. Much respect."

"Um, thanks?"

"And you didn't scrape and beg in front of that judge," Martin smiled. "Fuck the Republic and Fuck you too… classic! Wish I had said something that badass when I was on trial."

"That was kind of a mistake, actually," Sheloran replied.

"Heh… probably," Martin said as they all laughed. "But some mistakes you just gotta make!"

He leaned forward.

"I just got one question," he asked. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill those fuckers?"

Sheloran just sighed. Just be yourself, right?

"They hurt my people," Sheloran snarled. "innocent people, people who hadn't done a pooping thing to anyone… made her kid watch while they..."

Sheloran hissed.

"Nobody hurts my people and gets away with it!"

The group all looked at each other and nodded.

"Kid," Martin smiled. "You ever hear of 'The Saints'?…."

"No?"

"We are a… professional association… of like-minded individuals," Martin smiled. "From all across the Republic… A 'union' of sorts… a union that you might benefit from joining."

"Look, Martin," Sheloran said carefully, "I appreciate it, but I just want to get through this without getting in any more trouble..."

They all laughed.

"We aren't some pissant prison gang," Martin chuckled. "I'm talking about when you beat the rap. You are running a pretty nice little game on your own, but as you have found out, it can be hard without people at your back… and with The Saints, you can take your little game and make it a lot bigger. We don't do shit here except our time. The only 'perk' you get here is that Zippo won't crash your lunch. She steers clear of us. She doesn't want the Orggs wiping out her legion like last time she crossed us."

"Yeah, little bitch tried playing in the big leagues," a silver-haired woman snarled. "We crunched up all her tasty little smurfs!"

"It's the closest thing to a shanking we can manage around here," Martin chuckled. Krista here does board games, I do cards, Sven handles the FPS and RTS racket. You game?

Sheloran smiled.

"A little..."