Trigger Warning: Suicide by Cop Attempt, Homophobia
Brinus followed the guard through the prison halls toward the parole room. The shackles and cuffs on his wrists and ankles clinked in the quiet, and his icy-blue eyes glared from behind 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 being that they were loose on his lean frame.
He’d been drug, unceremoniously from his cell at 9pm by the guard sneering, “The big man wants to see you. Wants to check if you’ve reformed.” Despite his annoyance, he let the curiosity win and allowed the guard to haul him up without a fight.
At 9 pm though? Seriously? What the fuck?
Long Ho, the prison warden, and the prison psychologist sat at a table in the parole room when they forced Brinus inside. He was slammed 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?”
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 about?”
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 second, 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 that he held for a moment before blowing it out toward the ceiling. “It just was.”
He couldn’t afford to snap right now. He needed an out..
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. “This is my shot” he thought. “ This is my way out. Just need to make sure the cops get involved.” He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and fixed his eyes on the (whoever gives the deal)“I’m all ears.”
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Five hours later, The planet’s city lights were visible in the night sky as Brinus climbed 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 climbed.. A black backpack was slung across his back as he descended the walls. He was on a timer. The police would be there soon to investigate an 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!”
Brinus realized there was no escape as two more officers flanked him. He felt a sick pleasure surge through his veins at the sight of the cops. He knew there was 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. Brinus drew his own gun as the cop staggered, clutching his bleeding face. Another officer pulled out a Saffron gas spray and attempted to spray Brinus in the face. Brinus pointed at one of the policemen and shot twice, missing on purpose. He was ready to die; he wanted to die. The four cops noticed something was off about his body language, which was why they didn’t kill him instantly.
“Go on! Fuckin’ kill me!” screamed Brinus — pointing the gun at another officer.
The two cops looked at each other and then called for a supervisor as Brinus fired two more shots at their feet, missing on purpose.
“Are y’all a bunch of cowards!? Do it!”
A sergeant touched down on the manicured lawn from a flying police car called in for backup at a possible suicide by cop. The second cop slammed his taser into his back, but Brinus, being six-foot-four and 220 pounds, did not go down. A second cop jammed another taser into his pistol hand. The police officer Brinus punched began beating him until several of his teeth were damaged or broken. He was covered in bruises and cuts. Brinus laughed and smiled as he was having his ass beaten by all four policemen. He was truly happy at this moment. He was finally free from the syndicate.
They picked up his unconscious body and threw him into a cop car — on the drive to the city jail, he was still knocked out. 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.
The towering giant of a nineteen-year-old went into this cell in yellow prison scrubs for medium security — his body was body-sculpted from three years in prison. He had blue eyes, and a tarken tea cig behind his ear sat in a holding cell having just been arrested for violating his license to commit burglary. He also had a slight tan from his syndicate work.
He sat on the bunk bed, thinking about how this time he was busted. There was no way of getting out of it. Blood trickled down from his mouth as the pain from his teeth was overwhelming. The blood tasted hot and fresh in his mouth, and it dribbled down his cheeks. 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. His cellmate looked at Brinus and laughed.
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After mealtime, a ginger cat person dressed in a Navy Uniform entered the visitor lobby of the jail. His attire featured Navy Blue pants adorned with a light blue shirt and a name tag over the left pocket. It had brass buttons going down the center and a cream-colored under-shirt. The name, “Captain Plato,” was on the tag. There was a light blue patch with a yellow lightning bolt and the ship’s name on top.
The booking sergeant saluted the captain. The navy captain touched his hat. “What can I do for you, captain?” asked the sergeant.
The captain sneered, “I need your criminal records and police files on Brinus Helios—the kid arrested for burglary of a baron two and a half months ago. You know? Prisoner four-five-four-six arrested for crime fifty-seven? He has his bail hearing in about two weeks. Received temporary dental work a week ago? The Navy AI identified him as a person of interest.”
Crime fifty-57 was “four felonies against a nobleman’s estate.” It came with a mandatory life without parole after being found guilty.
The booking sergeant sighed and went onto the computer terminal, cursing under her breath with actual swear words. She surfed through the arrest records. “Wait here! I need to set up the interrogation room.”
The sergeant rolled her eyes, went onto the wrist microchip, and dialed someone. “Will Corporal Simous retrieve Prisoner four-five-four-six booked for crime fifty-seven? Put him in interrogation room four.” She looked at the captain and said with a scowl, “The amount of paperwork this visit will generate will keep me busy for hours.”
She snapped her bony fingers at the captain. He scowled and walked out of the sergeant’s office.
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Brinus had his right arm under his thin, scratchy, pillow. He had a smile on his face as he reached for his personal hologram album by his bunk bed. He teared up as he hovered over the hologram of Harper and he in the park drinking beer. His eyes watered and tears went down his cheeks as he remembered the fun they had in the Saffron City park, outsmarting cops who tried to arrest them. Harper was his party buddy; they would go out drinking late at night. He taught him to loosen up and be himself, the young rebel he was today directly came from his first relationship.
The bunk bed Brinus lay on had a hard mattress and a thin, scratchy blanket with a pillow to match. The jail cell was ice cold and a standard concrete six-by-eight prison cell. It had a food replicator, a toilet, and a bookshelf. Overall, it was bland and lifeless. His cellmate was supposed to be some big time gang member but usually just extorted commissary rations from him. It was fucking annoying but he was the Orin Syndicate member on the ward so he couldn’t do anything. Fuck life.
Brinus wiped his eyes. Today would be Harper’s birthday. They would celebrate by getting blackout drunk. He was so much fun breaking rules with. The next hologram was of Harper smoking his first cigarette. It was a funny moment for Brinus because he almost fell from the dizziness and coughed for twenty minutes. Harper was judgmental of his smoking habit until he ended up addicted after his first smoke. He laughed as he recalled this memory.
Brinus was going through his memories one after the other when his cellmate coughed. “Is that Harper?” He asked with a sneer in his voice.
“Yeah. Today would be his nineteenth birthday. We were both 16 when we met.”
“It’s a shame what the syndicate did to him. Was he worth trying to kill yourself over?” The cellmate laughed like he made a joke.
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.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Remember who runs this ward and it ain’t the Orin Syndicate.” All three men snickered.
Brinus smiled his screw-you smile and then said in a fuck you voice, “Have a great day, and may the temple spirits bless your heart.”
The three men looked at him for a second with confused looks. Did he just throw sarcasm at them? They walked out of the cell.
Brinus attempted to put the incident out of his mind. However, as he headed to the common room, two prison guards came up to him and put handcuffs on him.
The ward sergeant said, coming up behind Brinus, “I need you to come with us.” She guided him to an interrogation room.
The room had bars on the windows, two chairs, a metal table, and a plastic ashtray in the center of the table with about a dozen cigarette butts in it. The floor was cold and slick tile with a drain under the single, bright, fluorescent light. The room was chilly and sterile with four, white tile walls. There was shatter-resistant at the end of the room.
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After 6 minutes, a Navy Captain came into the interrogation room.
The Navy Captain entered and sat across from Brinus. “My name is Captain Plato of Her Grace’s Starship Victory. I am here to discuss your draft in the Confederate Navy. You may 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 twitched his whiskers. “I was going through your file. You were booked for breaking and entering, possession of burglary tools, and possession of a concealed blaster pistol with intent to commit a felony. The list goes on. They threw every charge possible and enhancement they could under crime five-seven. The DA was telling me it would be a slam dunk. You need to convince me why I shouldn’t let you rot in prison.” His tail swished from side to side.
Brinus looked the cat person in the eyes. He put the smoke he was tapping on the table into his mouth. “I could do with a new ’venture.”
Captain Plato tilted his head and snapped, “You sure?”
Brinus lit the other end and took a deep drag. He blew smoke out and said, “The Navy sounds like a fresh start.”
Captain Plato came up from the seat, stood beside Brinus, and sat on the table. “You won’t be thieving on my ship?”
Brinus looked uncomfortable and scooted his chair a couple of inches to the left. “Life in prison’s a wake-up call.” He looked out of the windows at the end of the room.
He fits in with the research team. He is too tall to be an engineer but not a mechanic. The regulation calls for no higher than five feet twelve inches. He would be able to fit in with the robotics crew or the workshop. That job is for the lieutenant commander to decide. Captain Plato thought.
The captain came up from his seat and looked out the window with his paws behind his back. “I am going to draft you and give you a trial run. You will start in stellar cartography and then move you to robotics as a technician. Clear?! 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 on the door.
The Captain left the room.
Brinus was alone in the room and took a minute to reflect. He realized adapting to the rules and regulations of the Navy would be difficult. He wondered if it would’ve been wiser to join the Reavers. He was glad his plan worked. How could he retire formally from the Orin Syndicate and leave the life of crime behind him?
Yet, Brinus recognized that his time among the syndicate was over. Determined, he crushed his cigarette in an ashtray on the table — thinking of how much his life was about to change, he felt hopeful of a new future.
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Brinus found himself at the bustling Confederate spaceport shortly after his bail hearing. The spaceport adhered to the familiar template of a standard Confederate facility, complete with a bustling dry dock, maintenance droids going about their day, and a dedicated pit crew of starship engineers tending to vessels in need of repair. At the same time, Brinus knew they were addressing blaster damage. It was in orbit over the planet and had The Victory as well as two titan class battleships in dock.
The dry dock itself was colossal, stretching across twenty city blocks and in space overlooking the tropical planet of Otis Datis. This imposing expanse was tailor-made to accommodate vessels of staggering proportions, including carriers, command ships, and formidable titan-class battleships.
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 and turned away. “I didn’t hear you, cadet!”
He looked irritated but said even louder, “I mean, yes, sir.” He figured it was either to be yelled at or spend the rest of his life in prison.
Without looking at his first officer, the captain said as he came onto the cargo bay, “Commander! See to the new recruit! Take the tall kid to the data center and the commissary! I want him in uniform and at his post by the second watch tomorrow!”
The Commander turned to the Cadet and flicked his head towards the door. “Follow me!”
“Yes, Sir!”
My kit! This is real! Brinus felt a sense of relief wash over him. He would not be in prison for the rest of his life.
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Brinus felt like he had achieved his goal as the commander guided him to the Shark Attack area.
The shark attack area was a concrete hallway with brown and white laminate flooring. It had beige walls with posters about military life. The one that caught Brinus’s eye was a poster about chronic smoking and how the navy tolerates a max of a pack and half a day. The hall had brutalist architecture and fluorescent lighting. It seemed lifeless and plain.
The instructors lined him up against the wall with ten other people. They then got into each of their faces then started screaming.
“Fresh meat!”
“What do we have here?”
“Looking sexy young man!”
A lieutenant and two petty officers got into Brinus’s face screaming and yelling after Brinus laughed, “What the fuck is so funny cadet? Terra cat got your tongue boy?”
A terra cat was similar to a house cat except it had blue and white fur and was like a cross in temperament between a stray dog and a feral cat.
then forced him to do twenty push ups after he balled up his fists. All three instructors screamed in his ears
“How fucking dare you!”
“What the fuck is your problem cadet?”
“Drop down and give me 20!”
After casing the cadets they ran them to the commissary with their bags.
Upon arriving at the ship’s quartermaster, Brinus began the next phase of Shark Attack. As Drill instructors screamed at him, the ship’s quartermaster provided him with his commissary account details and the rations required for his service. Soon after, the ship’s tailor took measurements of Brinus.
Additionally, Brinus found himself registered for tarken tea cigarette rations. These were AA nicotine-infused herbal smokes. The plant contained AA nicotine but was devoid of tar. They had only twenty-three chemicals. None of the byproducts produced upon combustion were harmful to humanoids.
The medical team revealed several dental issues that required attention. Specifically, Brinus needed bridge dental work between two of his teeth. His three left molars needed replacement with dental implants, and his wisdom teeth had to be extracted.
The dental procedures meant that Brinus would spend two days recovering in the ship’s medical bay following his surgery, ensuring that he received the necessary care and monitoring.
Brinus reported to the Ship’s Librarian. He had his microchip scanned and information entered. However, an error message appeared on the librarian’s triquarter.
Brinus looked a little surprised as the librarian scanned again. She then said, “That’s odd. Do you know who your family is?”
Brinus shrugged. “I never met my family. ”
The librarian took her device to the side. “There is an error message.”
“What error message?”
The librarian waved her hand dismissively. She said, “I will enter your information manually.”
Brinus realized there was no point in trying to get answers.
After spending an hour entering the information, Brinus came out of the library. He was very much surprised and wondered if his childhood fantasies were not fantasy at all. Maybe...No, it is just foolish talk.
Brinus donned his freshly issued uniform. It consisted of a light blue shirt and navy blue pants adorned with black beading that ascended along the sides. A navy patch on his right arm bore the ship’s name and a lightning bolt. It had a gold name tag with Cadet Helios on it over his left shoulder.
Amidst the excited atmosphere of the crowded mess hall, Brinus sat alone, surrounded by fellow midshipmen and cadets. The mess hall was a large space, accommodating up to eight hundred people. It featured a generous buffet of ten different dishes unique to Otis Datis.
The mess hall’s design was functional and traditional. Rows of tables and chairs were meticulously arranged to seat the diners. The decor was simple, with milk chocolate brown porcelain tiles contrasting with light brown tile walls and pristine white tile ceilings. There was a smoking section with tables that had booths meant to seat eight people. Two cashier droids were at the end of the buffet and people paid in credit chips. The trays and uneaten food were disposed of in replicators which were next to the vending and drink machines.
The other cadets, midshipmen, and acting lieutenants were sitting in groups. Brinus was tapped on the shoulder from behind and immediately jumped up and rolled off the side, resuming a fighting stance until he realized it was just a midshipman who wanted to speak. For 3 seconds, the entire mess hall went silent.
The midshipman scoffed, stepping back, “Dude, chill.”
Brinus put his fists down and relaxed. He put his hand on his chest.
“You scared me.”
The midshipman looked at Brinus with squinted eyes. “That was obvious. Man, what you gotta be scared of?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess nothin’ now.”
The midshipman said, looking at two empty seats at a table, “Do you wanna sit with us?”
Brinus shrugged again, “I guess.” Uncertain of what to do, he decided to go with the flow.
Brinus carried his tray to a group of midshipmen, feeling the weight of their collective scrutiny. Some cast curious glances his way, while others remained tense from the recent confrontation with the threatened individual. Undaunted, he sat, absorbing the conversations swirling around him.
As he savored his meal, Brinus remained a silent observer, despite the tension. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, but Brinus stayed composed, focusing on the interactions among his fellow midshipmen.
Before long, one of the midshipmen asked Brinus a question, breaking the ice.
One of the men turned to Brinus, “What is your opinion on the new reforms?”
Brinus wiped his mouth, “I ain’t got no opinion. I just got drafted.”
The midshipman laughed. “Why the fuck should I care?”
Brinus laughed again, a very rude and condescending laugh. “I certinly give zero fucks about you.” He came up from his seat and left his tray on the table. Truthfully he felt tempted to slam it into the asshole’s face.
The midshipman laughed and said in a mocking tone, “Who cares about you? You’re just cheap labor!”
Brinus ignored him. That guy was just Delta Region Trash, he thought to himself. Armed with his room number, he left the mess hall and approached his quarters. With a swipe of his key card, the door opened, unveiling his new living space.
The room featured essential amenities: an HVAC unit with a humidifier for climate control, functional furniture for comfort, a subspace communicator for connectivity, providing a private refuge on the starship.
An adjoining bathroom held vital facilities: a toilet, sink with a mirror, a grooming vanity, and a sonic shower for personal hygiene. A sonic shower uses sound waves instead of water for bathing.
As Brinus settled onto the bed to gauge its comfort, he quickly realized it was far too soft for his accustomed tastes. He sunk into the mattress, and it offered no support.
With a sigh, he adjusted the room’s HVAC unit and humidifier, striving to create an atmosphere more conducive to his rest. Just as he settled in, the subspace communicator rang out, interrupting his quest for a peaceful night’s sleep. Brinus promptly answered the communication, ever ready to attend to the demands of his new role within the starship’s crew.
The person who called was Brinus’s new training officer. “Lieutenant.”
The officer looked annoyed and then yelled, “Cadet. I heard there was an incident in the mess hall. Tomorrow, We will perform a general knowledge assessment when you arrive by tomorrow at 0500 sharp. I also want to start basic training as well. I don’t want any bull shittery. The midshipman you were interacting with will be chastised accordingly. I want you to remember that you are a cadet, not a syndicate member anymore. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Throughout the night, Brinus lay on the soft bed, his mind drifting into a world of daydreams. He envisioned himself residing in a grand palace, surrounded by an army of servants catering to his every desire. These dreams extended to opulent formal dinners, with a dedicated footman assigned to each guest. Yet, at nineteen, he couldn’t help but recognize these dreams for what they were—fantasies that would likely never materialize.