Trell wiped the sweat from her brow as the incredibly hot mid-day sun beat down on the back of her neck. She leaned against the hoe she’d been using to till the soil in preparation for the planting that was to be done tomorrow. She cursed the use of such primitive tools. If they’d used an automatic planter, the tilling planting and watering of the entire field could be done in just a few hours.

But such was life on a penal colony. No modern conveniences were allowed beyond basic sanitation and medical needs. They lived in primitive prefabricated shelters with dim electric lights. She and the other prisoners were required to grow their own food, by hand, which was then distributed by the warden and guards. Occasionally their resources would be supplemented by “care packages” from the warden and his staff, especially if the prisoners behaved themselves… but for the most part, they were pretty much on their own.

Trell hated every second of it.

A deep gong sounded and she shouldered the hoe in her hands with a sigh. It was finally time for a midday meal. She shuffled, along with the human refuse that populated the colony with her, to the long counter in the side of the building that was their commissary. Inmates lined up to receive their food. Trell glanced around nervously as she joined them, she was always wary around meal time.

Life in a penal colony wasn’t easy. The Empire wouldn’t waste a perfectly good temperate planet to house criminals, of course, so the penal colonies tended to fall on those that were barely habitable. The planet was hot and dry for the majority of the time, the only water came from deep underground wells, (except during one of the very rare rainstorms.) Not to mention, of course, her lovely “cellmates.”

People didn’t get sent to Rura Penthe for littering on the sidewalk, after all, so most of the people she was forced to endure life with were those who had been convicted of the more violent and egregious offenses.

Consequently, one always had to be on the lookout for those who would prey on the weak and defenseless… or those who appeared to be so.

A sudden burst of noise dragged Trell’s attention away from the food line. Off to the side a group of inmates were engaged in a brawl. Likely over the supplies that the security personnel rationed out for
every meal. There was usually more than enough food to eat, but of course a penal colony tended to run on more of a “law of the jungle” type of morality.

Somebody had decided they wanted something that belonged to someone else, so the only logical conclusion was to roll the dice and see if they could take it from them.

Of course, one always had to be aware if their target had any friends. Just like in the wild, the weak learned to travel in packs for mutual protection. There was safety in numbers, after all. That appeared to be what had occurred in this particular instance. Some fool had picked a fight with someone he assumed was weaker, and then the would-be victim’s buddies had interfered. Of course, that necessitated the intervention of the friends of the first person, as well.

And then before anybody knew what happened, a brawl was going on. The ironic thing being that whatever items the instigator had coveted had likely been dropped, forgotten and trampled in the dust. No longer of any use to anybody.

“Altercation in progress! Inmates are ordered to cease and desist immediately or disciplinary measures will be required.” Trell rolled her eyes as a swarm of the colony’s security drones descended on the fray.

Their squat ovoid bodies reflected the sun’s light directly into her eyes. Besides the two articulated appendages hanging from the side of their ovoid bodies, a pair of glowing red lights blinking behind a black glass plate like a pair of eyes were the only things that indicated which side was the front.

“Final warning, cease and desist immediately.” The machine ordered. Trell rolled her eyes and wondered why they even bothered. Nobody in that tangled mass of flailing limbs was going to listen to them. If she were in charge she would have programmed them to go straight for the Tasers and tear gas.

There were several electric pops and bright flashes of light, followed by a chorus of anguished screams as the droids elected to do exactly that.

Trell smirked to herself. She had no love for the security drones, obviously, but there was a part of her that always found their disciplinary measures… amusing.

Provided, of course, they were being meted out on somebody else’s hide. The memory of the one, and only, time Trell had found herself on the receiving end of such “discipline” rose unbidden into her mind. She shuddered as she recalled the unpleasant sensation of several thousand volts of electricity coursing through her body.

The rest of the inmates in the courtyard watched in indifferent silence as the twitching forms of the brawlers were rounded up by security guards- both robotic and organic- and hauled off to the administration building, where the incident would be evaluated and punishments would be delivered based on culpability and severity of the crime.

Trell figured the ringleaders would get a day or two in isolation, the rest would be scheduled on the jobs that nobody liked to do for a while.

Now that the excitement had passed, the usual routine reasserted itself and Trell resumed standing in line for her meal.

After receiving her food, she retreated to a secluded area away from the usual foot traffic and sat down to eat, constantly on guard for someone to decide she looked like an easy target.

She ate quickly, and as usually happened when she had a spare moment to think, her thoughts inevitably turned to how she had ended up on the blasted rock in the first place.

The realization that she’d been beaten by a pair of humans absolutely burned in the back of her head, filling her with an almost uncontrollable sense of rage. Of course, they hadn’t outsmarted her, as such; rather they’d outwitted the two idiot pilots she’d hired. That, unfortunately, wasn’t terribly surprising. Still, she’d been humiliated. The humans, her sister, Pryvani and that damned soldier. All of them deserved to pay for what they’d done to her.

She would find a way to make them pay.

She quickly finished her meal. The faster she ate, the sooner she stopped having something someone else might want to take

Just as Trell was starting to calm down, a shadow fell over her. After a brief second of studying the form’s outline, she was reasonably certain she knew who the shadow belonged to.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she turned to face the newcomer. She didn’t really want to have to deal with this at that moment; she knew he wouldn’t want her food.

Before her stood a man of impressive size, being roughly a head taller than Trell herself. He was broad shoulder and square jawed with his mouth perpetually twisted into a cocky grin. He was missing a few teeth, having replaced them with synthetic counterparts. No doubt the souvenirs of any number of fights and brawls.

His hair was cropped short, which did nothing to hide his tanned and weather-beaten face. A pair of dark shades hid his eyes from view.

“Evenin’ Trell.” His voice sounded like an avalanche of gravel tumbling down a hillside. A side effect of chewing the narcotic leaves of a native plant colloquially referred to as “Burnweed.” The slightly acidic juices extracted from the plant tended to abuse one’s vocal chords after protracted use.

Trell narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders. “What do you want Greno?” Her lip curled into a sneer and her gaze never left the man’s face for a second. She knew how important it was to never blink in front of a predator, and make no mistake, Greno was a predator.

The large man smiled stiffly and took a step closer. Trell didn’t flinch, or back up. There seemed to be a barely perceptible nod of respect from him, but perhaps she was imagining it.

“Nothin’ much.” His gaze travelled up and down her body, a small smirk playing on his scarred lips. Casually, he reached out one calloused hand and played with a lock of her blonde hair. “Jus’ wanted to… talk.”

Instinctively, Trell slapped his hand away with a snarl. “Don’t touch me, shaar-waste.”

There was a brief pause as Greno’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He chuckled, as if amused by Trell’s outburst.

Then he backhanded her so hard she landed on the dusty ground in a heap.

Trell’s vision swam for a second, and when it cleared she saw the mountainous man standing over her. He bent down and seized the back of her head in his fist.

“Lissen slag…” He snarled. “You ever think of talkin’ to me like that again and-”

“Is there an altercation occurring, Inmate Number 38916 Greno Shan?”

Greno turned around and saw one of the pristine white and silver security drones hovering behind him.

“Course not, Trashcan. Was jus’ helpin’ her up, yeah?” He seized her roughly by the front of her shirt and hauled her to her feet with one massive hand.

“See? Nothin’ to worry about. Right, doll?”

Trell spat on the ground. “Yeah. Right.”

The hovering robot seemed to consider them both for a moment, then determined nothing was amiss. “Exemplary. No disciplinary action will be required at this time.”

“Hooray.” Greno deadpanned.

The robot ignored, or was unaware of, his sarcastic response and turned its body to face Trell. “Inmate Number 24601 Trell Pria, your presence is required at the administration building immediately.”

“What for?” Trell asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. There weren’t very many reasons for the admin people to want to talk to an inmate. Most of them weren’t good.

The security robot turned and began to hover away, as if to lead her there. “You have a visitor.”

Trell’s brow knitted in confusion. Getting a visitor on a penal colony was… well the idea was positively ludicrous. She couldn’t think of any other time a “visitor” had arrived. She hadn’t even known it was possible.

This, of course, made her suspicious. There weren’t very many people who would want to pay her a social visit… in fact she couldn’t think of anybody at all, really. That meant that for someone to go this far out of their way to see her, they must want something.

There was only one way to find out for sure. Trell trotted off after the floating grey drone.

“Oh, Greno!” She called over her shoulder as she walked away. “Be a dear and clean up the trash from my meal for me? Thank you!”

As she stepped through the door of the administration building, Trell was immediately hit by a blast of cool air from the air conditioner. It felt nice on her sun damaged skin. Of course, then it made her angry because she remembered that she had to suffer out in that blazing hot atmosphere while these pad-pushers relaxed in environmentally controlled rooms.

The robot, having delivered her to the administrative officer on duty, zipped off to continue monitoring the other inmates, leaving Trell standing in front of a bored security officer behind a large metal desk.

“Trell Pria?” The officer asked in a bored voice.

“Yes.”

The guard hefted himself to his feet and walked around the desk to stand behind Trell. “Hands behind your back please.”

“What for?”

“Hands behind your back or disciplinary measures will be taken.”

With an annoyed growl, Trell placed her hands behind her back, with one wrist over the other. She felt tight metal bands clamping down on her wrists, locking them in place.

“Follow me then.” The guard walked beside her and led her down a corridor to their left. Eventually they stopped in front of a metal door marked as number 208. The guard entered a sequence of numbers on a keypad beside the door and it unlocked with a loud THUNK!

“Have a seat, please.” The guard ordered.

“Just what is this about?”

“Have a seat.”

Rolling her eyes, Trell complied with the directive and sat in one of the metal chairs situated inside the small room. When she seated herself (uncomfortably, because her wrists were still bound behind her back.) the guard closed the door, leaving her alone.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait too long before the door was opened again, admitting a single person entrance.

The woman who entered was dressed in a uniform-like garb of black and grey. She had dark hair that was cropped short around her face, and startlingly blue eyes. Her pale face was impassive, emotionless as she regarded the seated prisoner before her.

“Yvenna.” Trell snarled. “Nice of you to drop by.”

If the blonde woman’s tone affected her in anyway, Yvenna failed to show it. Her face remained just as blank and expressionless as it had been when she walked in.

“Trell.” She spoke in a disdainful, superior tone. “Lady Fand has sent me to deliver a message to you.”

Trell suddenly sat bolt upright, and looked around as if worried that a dozen guards were about to come trampling into the room. “Sh! You crazy or something? These rooms have recording instruments in them.”

The barest smile quirked at Yvenna’s lips. “Don’t be simple, Trell. The guard and I have a little… understanding, shall we say?”

Trell rolled her eyes and sat back again, stretching her legs out in front of her, as if already bored by the conversation. “If you say so. Would you hurry up and say your piece then? I have things to do.”

Yvenna blinked. “Of course you do.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and extracted a small packet of papers. She threw it onto Trell’s lap. “I trust, given the amount of time you’ve previously spent incarcerated, that you know how to hide things from the guards.”

Trell rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I got it covered.”

Yvenna nodded in satisfaction. “These are your preliminary instructions. If you can manage to get away from the primary compound and make it to the listed coordinates at the designated time, a ship will be waiting for you. The ship will take you to space station where I will be waiting to give you further instructions. Do you have any questions?”

Trell looked over the notes she’d been handed. “Yeah just one. How am I supposed to disable the security trackers?”

Yvenna shrugged dismissively. “That’s up to you to figure out.”

Trell stared at her in shock “What do you mean ‘that’s up to me to figure out’?”

Yvenna quirked an eyebrow. “Just what I said, Trell. Lady Fand isn’t particularly pleased with the oh so spectacular way you failed in your last mission. Consider this a test. If you pass, the job is yours and we’ll tell you everything you need to know when you get to the station. If you fail…” She tapped her knuckles on the metal door, which opened for her with another thunk.

“Well, Rura Penthe is rather nice this time of year. Good luck, Trell.” She turned and walked from the room, leaving Trell glowering at her back as the door closed behind her.

“What a slag.”