This is a potential fanfic that I am writing with a minor character named 'Tre' from the anime series Nanoha. Still a work in progress. Will work on later.
It was 0550 hours. The internal clock within Tre’s cybernetic body would awaken her without fail. Sensors revealed that everything was as it should be. Nothing in her cell had changed, the status of her health remained the same and the cybernetic components were not in need of replacement or repair.
Usually an internal warning would remind her that she was lacking her weapon components and that a detrimental Limiter had to be removed or else her combat potential would be severely impinged.
But Tre had long since suppressed that warning; there was little point in the reminder. She knew it would be a long time before she would able to deal with it appropriately. After all, this was year 3 day 103 of her 50 year prison sentence. So far no opportunity for escape had presented itself to shorten her imprisonment. The only other way was becoming ‘rehabilitated’ and accepting that the TSAB would monitor her every movement for the next ten years. She was not interested in it, she had to find a way to escape and rescue her father.
Escape was usually a matter of planning and waiting for the right opportunity, she was still in the progress of meticulously gathering information on said possible escape. Never mind the fact that just outside the prison was the hard cold vacuum of space. Or the planet the prison rotated around was nothing more than a giant ball of ice with truly bizarre and dangerous creatures.
Escape, escape, escape.
The chance had not presented itself yet. It was better to prepare for the morning routine of prison.
“TOP OF THE MORNIN’ EVERYONE!” A loud boisterous shout shattered whatever silence that the prison once had. It belonged to resident anarchist and murderer, Andrea Renault. She was located right next to Tre’s cell and always awoke in the morning at exactly 0600 by jumping out of her bed and announcing to the world that if she was up, then everyone else had to be too.
“Fuck off Renault! It’s only 6 in the morning!” A sleepy enraged prisoner somewhere screamed back.
“Aw, need your fuckin’ beauty sleep? Well you know how I fuckin’ feel! I heard you going at it with your twat last night!”
“Kaiser damn you all! Every single morning!”
So the day at Kiliek Orbital Prison began with the angry cacophony of 6 female prisoners in the block. If there was anything that prison life had taught Tre, mornings were not peaceful. It reminded her to an extent of the time used to share room with her younger sisters but without the swearing and serious death threats.
The intercom system crackled to life to bark out the usual orders.
“Prisoners, settle down. Doors opening at 0630! Prepare to hit the showers!”
“Bite me!””Go fuck yerself!””Hey asshole! Open up already!”
A number of prisoners immediately started banging on the flexisteel glass of their cell door and made an unholy racket. In that racket, Renault took the opportunity to whisper a secret conversation with Tre. A normal human would not be able to hear what she was saying but hearing implants allowed Tre to make out the words.
“Yo, good mornin’ my mechanical alarm clock. 0550 on the dot, with ten minutes of extra shut eye for me. Gotta love rank F sensory magic.”
The manic grin of Andrea Renault could not be seen by Tre but the combat cyborg knew enough about her neighbour that she could easily imagine it. Rank F sensory magic was nothing impressive; the merest basic spells that a child would practice on. Limited range, limited power output, and limited usefulness, but in the tight confines of prison it was just barely enough. Tre moved closer to the wall to begin their conversation, as well as making her bed and gathering her cleaning kit.
“Good morning Renault, I seem to remember requesting you to use your alarm clock.” Tre whispered back, relying on Renault’s weak sensory spell to pick up on her words.
“Aw don’t be like that. I can’t even access my other spells because of the fuckin’ limiter, need to keep up some sort of practice.”
“You could practice on someone else.”
“Hell no and we’ve been through this already. Next door on me left is ‘Saint’, above me is ‘Prison Whore’. I don’t wanna know more about them than I already do. Besides, I bet ‘Saint’ was dreamin’ and moanin’ about how she wants to fuck you.”
Tre felt a headache building. Unfortunately the racket in the cell blocks was quieting down considerably, they would need end this conversation soon. Most prisoners were now simply waiting for their cell doors to be opened. A cursory spell watched over them and scanned for any illegal contraband the prisoners may have hidden or smuggled in last night.
“I think the good ole’ Abbess wants to you to have a good talk with ‘Saint’ today at yer shrink session.”
“… That’s real funny Renault.” A cold burning sensation settled in the cyborg’s stomach, Renault was fairly crazy and manic but Tre had yet to see her actually lie.
“Kaiser’s balls, you think I’m jokin’? I jus’ wanted to give yer a heads up. Saw a wee bit of the upcoming session schedule fer this month. Watch yer ass… and yer tits… and… You know what; jus’ make sure you watch yerself.”
A relative silence returned to the cell block, cutting their secret conversation short. It was time for the prisoners to start exiting their cells. Above Tre, the sound of the transparent flexisteel glass panel sliding open and then the familiar footsteps of the three prisoners on the upper level marching in unison down the stairs. Single file and in order of cell number, they came into sight.
Tre could see them lining up with their washing kits; taking her usual position at the front was ‘Donna’ Mirielle Dacia, an old prisoner past her sixties and a member of the ‘lifer club’. ‘Donna’ had twenty years on her sentence left to fill, if she survived that then she would most likely be sent to a specialized old age care home. All that really meant was, effectively speaking, the old prisoner was simply exchanging Kiliek prison for a new prison with a sunny name such as ‘Wildflower Resting Home’. The wrinkled face was locked in a perpetual sour look of disgust as she checked on the prisoners behind her with paranoid eyes. Being the prisoner in the front of the line always meant giving far too many openings for the people behind you to stab you the back.
Tre once had the misfortune of asking ‘Donna’ if she was a genuine member of the infamous Dacia Family Syndicate when she had first met the old prisoner and learned her name. That almost earned Tre a near scalding cup of coffee to the face. It turned out that the geriatric prisoner was in no way related to them and despised the very idea of being associated so notorious a family of immoral thieves, crooked whoremongers and diabolical murderers.
‘Donna’ Mirielle Dacia had been sentenced to 60 years imprisonment for running a death camp for undesirables on Administered Planet #54, Ordilab during the dying days of the old Fresian Republic.
There are simply some things that cannot be squared into round holes.
Directly behind and in stark contrast to the paranoid restless ‘Donna’ was ‘Madame’ Ella Saab. The snide nickname ‘Prison Whore’ that Renault casually threw about was only dared to be uttered behind the Madame’s back. The diminutive thirty five year old woman was once a brothel Madame and owner of an apparently popular and famous night club called ‘Silver Ring’ on Midchilda’s Cranagan. Politicians, actors and actresses and wealthy industrialists were regular indulgers to the super elite club’s ‘remunerated relationship consultants’. Prostitution is a legal activity on Midchilda but blackmail, insider trading, providing illegally procured goods and services and breaking Midchilda copyright laws is not. Those crimes netted the ‘Madame’ a four year sentence, which had been whittled down with some hardball bargaining and legal shenanigans from a thirty year sentence. The only thing that didn’t work in her wheeling and dealing was being transferred to a more ‘club med’ low security prison; a vindictive former customer ensured that.
In all honesty, Tre could have lived a happy life without knowing too much of the business of living on the avails of prostitution and similar such business the ‘Madame’ had been involved in but it was not to be. Within a month of arriving in Kiliek, she got an interview and job offer as a personal security/companion position that would be just perfect for a ‘highly trained combat cyborg with Amazonian good looks inside and outside prison’.
Being propositioned in such a manner was another experience that Tre could really do without...
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