Wing Commander Lance Holmes slowly walked down the corridor of the prison on Gamma IV, the home planet of Galactic Expeditionary and Exploration Force.  He wore his basic blue casual uniform.  Ahead of him were two prison guards.  Behind him were two of his own guards, from his main force.  The group turned a corner, entered a corridor where there were only cells along the left-hand side, slowed down, passed four cell doors and stopped at the fifth.  Lance turned and looked at the figure inside of the cell.

"God, this place stinks.  It smells like an open fucking sewer in here," Holmes muttered to himself.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the small, black cigars he liked to smoke and lit it.  The cigars were strong and gave off a pungent aroma.  Maybe the smell from the cigar would kill the smell of the prison.

Holmes looked at the figure in the cell.  A thirty-year old woman, with dirty, filthy blonde hair sat on the edge of a bunk, reading a small book.  She looked thin and half starved.  Lance wrapped on the bars of the cell with his left hand, and the woman looked up.  When she saw who it was, she gave the man a bitter smile, arose from her bunk, and walked the four paces to the cell door.

"Well, well, I see it is Wing Commander now," she said, the anger in her voice obvious.  "When did you get promoted?  It's nice to see that someone got something good out of the Triskellion expedition, instead of getting fucked up the ass like a Drop Ship commander and Cadet I happen to know."

"Laura," said Commander Holmes softly.

"Fuck you, Holmes," retorted Laura.  She lowered her voice, but the bitter anger was still present, and it stung Holmes.  "Have you any clue what it's like in here?  I get one standard prison coverall to wear every six months.  It never gets washed.  Never.   My cell?  Lovely, isn't it?  Once a month I get a broom to sweep it out, and a cup of cleanser for my toilet and sink.  Once a month!  I get fifteen minutes, every other day, outside in the yard.  That's it for exercise. And I get the luxury of one five-minute shower a month.    Did you know they mix male and female prisoners in this wing?  No?  Well they do, and yes, I have been fucked up the ass.  Against my will, no less.  And in the pussy, as well.  But I don't have to worry about pregnancy; the warden graciously puts a contraceptive in the female prisoner's food."

Lance listened quietly, occasionally taking a puff on his cigar.

Laura undid the front of her coveralls; they were held shut by only two buttons.  The remaining six were missing.  She was nude and bruised underneath the coveralls and had no underclothing.

"So," Laura continued on, her raving under control but the anger still hot, "as you can see, I have no underwear.  Not even panties!  It's not issued to female prisoners.  And, noble and brave wing commander, notice the really pungent aroma here?  The warden doesn't issue us tampons, either, or a cycle control drug.  When we bleed, we bleed.  Disgusting, isn't it?"

Laura buttoned the two buttons, turned, and sat on the edge of her bunk in the tiny and filthy cell.  She crossed her legs and tried to look sexy.  She smiled up at Wing Commander Lance Holmes and said, using a sultry voice, "Holmes, darling, my love, it is soooooo good to see you again."

"Laura," said Lance softly, "I know you were a fine Drop Ship Commander.  I've come to help you.  I want to help you."

"Help me?"  Laura tossed her head and laughed, but it was a bitter laughter that came out of her throat.  "So the great wing commander bends to help a pilot!  My, oh my!  Where were you at my hearing?  You know I was not allowed counsel?  No legal help whatsoever and the Command Board ripped me apart!  And Cadet Simoni, that little, tiny, pretty, inexperienced nineteen-year old, was not allowed to corroborate my testimony!  By the way, what happened to her?  I hear she is getting the same treatment that I am.  First class accommodations here!  We were screwed!  The two of us were made into scapegoats!  If you wanted to help, you should have spoken at the hearing!  Help me?  You, my good wing commander, are full of space shit!"

Lance dropped his cigar to the floor and crushed it out.  The man was fifty-two, and nearing the peak of his career in the service.  After Wing Commander, the only rank left open to him was Admiral and an appointment to the command staff.  He would probably never attain that after the incident on Triskellion and what he was about to do next.  But he was certain he was going to do the right thing.

"Laura," Lance said softly, his voice and feelings under control, although he felt revulsion at the way the woman had been treated, "I am here to help.  I know that I should have helped you and Cadet Simoni two years ago, before you were put in here.  But my hands were tied.  I now have some influence and a powerful friend as well.  We can get you out."

"Oh, really?" Laura sneered.  "Out to what?  A lowly street job as a clerk in a store?  Or do you now have the influence to get my commission restored, and get Lisa her Cadet status back?  That I have to see!"

Wing Commander Holmes slowly shook his head from side to side.  He could understand the woman's anger and bitterness.  She had been "fucked up the ass," as she so eloquently expressed it.  But now, other lives were at stake, as well as the future of a planetary exploration.  When Lance spoke again, he spoke in a low voice, but with the added tone of command.  It was the voice of an excellent field commander, who had led men and women into life-threatening situations and had brought almost all of them back, healthy and whole.  It was the voice of a man who had earned respect.

"Laura, I have already managed to get Cadet Simoni out of here.  She accepted my offer, and is now in a safe and comfortable location.  I would like it if you accepted it as well.  It is a one-time offer.  Say yes or no, but decide in the next ten seconds.  If you say no, you will rot in here for the rest of your natural life."

Laura raised her head, and Lance could see tears streaking down her filthy cheeks.  Her anger was vented, and now all she had left was pain.  He wanted to end that pain.  Laura had no clue what the Wing Commander had in mind; but she wanted out of this hellhole of a prison in the worst way.  

"What's the deal?" she asked Lance, between sobs.

"No details now.  We just get you out of here, to a safe warm place, where you will be cleaned up and restored to health," said Lance, in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Laura simply nodded yes.

The cell door was opened, and Laura Hansen was handcuffed.  A hood was placed over her head, blinding her, and gently tied at her throat.  She was led out of the cell, to the elevator, to the ground floor, and out into the courtyard.  She was gently guided into a vehicle of some sort, and driven away.

The ride was roughly three hours in duration.  When the vehicle stopped, she was gently tugged out of it.  She could feel herself standing on some sort of gravel drive, and could feel a heavy rain.  The rain didn't bother her; it rained a lot on this part of the planet.  Throughout the ride, the only sound she heard were the voices of Commander Holmes and the guards.  They spoke very softly and she could not make out their words.

The guards guided her away from the drive and into a side entrance of a very, very large mansion.  She felt herself being tugged and pushed this way and that, around corridors, and up a flight of stairs, finally stopping inside a small apartment.  The apartment was very warm and very dry, a feeling Laura had almost forgotten during her time in prison.  Her hood and cuffs were removed.

Laura looked around her new prison.  She was in a small but very comfortable and well-appointed living room.  She could see a bedroom, and what appeared to be a bath, next to the bedroom.  Behind her stood Wing Commander Holmes' two burly guards.  In front of her stood two women, middle-aged, smiling pleasantly, and dressed as nurses.  Of the Wing Commander there was no sign.

"Please," said one of the women, "we wish to get you cleaned up, give you some proper food, and allow you some rest.  Please remove that filthy prison garment."

"Here we go again," thought Laura.  "Fucked up the ass.  At least the surroundings are nice."

She unbuttoned the coveralls in front of the four strangers and stepped out of it.
