Breakfast in Bedlam/Chapters 3-4

Chapter 3
Now

"...What the hell is this? Mystery meat?" "Ain't no mystery 'bout it. It's what a Hutt fergot ta flush." Cami Sookanado wrinkled up her green snout, the disgust further reflected in her large round eyes. The amorphous mass haphazardly spattered on her plate certainly resembled such plumbing backwash and had a pungent smell to match. Not very appetizing at all, and Cami considered herself to have a very broad taste. She shook her head, making her way through the line and toward an empty table. Decent food, she surmised, was yet another freedom the district had taken away. You do wrong and you're not even permitted to enjoy a palatable meal. Even if that apparent wrong was more of something devised by the Department of Corrections, relating to a miss-communication, and applying to the dodgy policies regarding the legal rights of bounty hunters. Cami was a Rodian, her species having garnered a reputation for a love of the hunt and thereby producing a fair share of lawless mercenaries. Years ago, Cami was forced into retirement and given a government pension. Her son was taken away and Cami was bounced from one group home to another, suffering from what many in the psychiatric profession considered to be a severe form of post-traumatic stress disorder, stemming from a hunt that had gone horribly wrong. However, her caseworkers neglected to mention that Cami's retirement was technically probation. So, when she accepted a contract to bring in a disillusioned Imperial terrorist suspect, her caseworkers alerted the Department of Corrections. After her hearing, Cami was charged with violating the terms and conditions of her parole and sentenced to eighteen months in prison. This was not the first time she had been in detention, as Cami had spent a few years after her son was born in a residential treatment facility leading up to her retirement. However, those circumstances were markedly different. She did not have charges on her record, nor was she housed in a penal facility then. Cami sighed, finding a relatively empty table and sitting. Her orange jumpsuit clung to her slight frame and she fussed with it, rolling up her sleeves. She stared pointedly at her meal for a long moment, then looked across the table. "I swear, Zuckuss... sometimes I envy you..." Zuckuss, sitting across from Cami with a bottle of what appeared to be some sort of protein shake on the table before him, glanced up at Cami from a moment of quiet reflection. "Why?" Cami nodded to her meal, then to his drink. "You definitely eat better than the rest of us." She chuckled, then poked at her food with her fork. "Honestly, I'm not hungry anymore. This stuff smells like the showers in C Block." Zuckuss watched Cami for a moment, then extended a retractable pipette from the lower part of his face mask, plunking the end into the bottle and knocking back a few swallows. "How is your son?" he asked after a long stretch of silence. "Alright," Cami felt a knot form in her throat. "He's doing alright." She paused. "Miss him terribly." It was only in the past year and a half that Cami was reunited with the child that Social Services had taken away from her so very long ago. Her son, a spry young Rodian that went by the name "Trak," had accompanied her on the hunt that violated her parole. A hunt that ended with Trak being accidentally injured when their ship was attacked. Cami felt absolutely horrible for it, even though the matter was beyond her control. "I'm gonna see if the C. O. will let me call him." "They should. There's no reason why they wouldn't.  He's your son." Cami nodded. That was at least one thing, one freedom the Department of Corrections would not take away entirely; a mother's right to have at least some limited contact with her offspring, whether it be through infrequent visits or nightly comm calls. A particularly large Lepi stormed up, grabbed Zuckuss by the shoulder straps of his breathing apparatus, and threw him to the floor, kneeling heavily on his chest with a blade poised to sever the air hoses. "I thought I recognized you, bug!" The Lepi leaned his furred face in close, his voice dropping to a threatening growl. "Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't kriffin' cut your kriffin' head off right now..." Cami was already on her feet and climbing across the table when one of the Lepi's cronies swatted her off and rushed her against the edge of a neighboring table, the breath forced from her lungs. "What... what..." Her voice was a mere whisper, struggling against a heavy gasp. The assailant spoke softly in her ear. "Just mind your own business, sweetie. Don't make me do something you'll regret." Cami could feel his hand caress and squeeze her rear. The Lepi, a foul-tempered individual named Dokk, twisted one of his long ears toward the commotion but otherwise kept his attention on Zuckuss. "Ain't gonna say nothin', bug? I've squished spider-roaches in my cell bigger den you!" Zuckuss merely stared calmly at Dokk, then brought his foot to bear, landing a strong kick into the Lepi's tailbone. He used the distraction to free himself, scuttling backwards on his hands and rear, standing just a short distance away. Grabbing a tray from a nearby table and using a two-handed swing, Zuckuss slammed it across Dokk's face. By this time, a crowd of inmates had gathered, forming an impromptu shock-boxing ring around the combatants. The corrections officers had not yet joined the fray, fights being so commonplace in Bedlam that they were seen as hazing and rituals to gain social dominance. Dokk staggered back a few steps, blood staining the fur of his muzzle. "You little insect!" He leapt at Zuckuss, throwing them both hard against another table, sending the furniture and its contents crashing to the floor. He grabbed one of the dangling air hoses and yanked at it, the sharp hiss of escaping ammonia erupting into a small mist cloud. Zuckuss countered with a chitinous knee to Dokk's unprotected groin, causing him to double over. Cami climbed on top of another table to see above the heads of the screaming crowd. Zuckuss seemed uninterested with tending to the broken air hose at the moment, standing calmly, though alert, in the center of the ring. Dokk was just getting to his feet, the pain and disorienting effects of the hit fading from inside his head. Cami glanced back to Zuckuss, seeing another inmate carefully reach around another air hose that looped to a pack situated between his shoulders. The overhead lights glinted off the metal blade. "Behind you!" The involuntary cry was too late. Zuckuss spun around as the inmate severed the hose with a ripping motion, landing a kick to the Gand's flank to finish the job. Zuckuss sprawled to the floor as if propelled by the escaping ammonia. Rolling onto his back, he jumped to his feet, grabbing his assailant by an outstretched arm. The inmate shrieked in pain as his arm was snapped in two by a well-placed blow to the elbow. "Lock down! Lock down!  Back-up to E Block Mess!" Cami could hear one of the officers shout somewhere behind her. Within seconds, the crowd was forcefully dispersed, Cami pulled from her perch and rushed against the wall. Pinned by a guard, she craned her neck, trying to see behind her. Dokk was being yanked to his feet and Zuckuss was held against a table, his arms restrained behind his back before the warden, a massive human with the build of a vending machine, stepped in front of them, blocking Cami's view. "Alright, who started this?" Warden Captain Bencar awaited an answer before turning his head toward Dokk. "What's up, Dokk?" Cami could hear Dokk shout an obscenity and see Bencar step backwards. The Lepi must have taken a swing at him. "Temper, easy there!" Bencar moved his arm and Cami heard the impact of nightstick against flesh, a grunt following almost simultaneously. "Some time in the Hole should calm you down. Get him out of here." There was a murmured reply, some scuffling, and Bencar turned sideways to face Zuckuss, providing Cami with an unobstructed view. Zuckuss was standing upright, his arms held firmly against his back, another guard busying himself with making rudimentary repairs to the broken air hoses before taking him to the infirmary for replacements. The Gand remained silent, staring intently at the warden. Captain Bencar began to pace in front of Zuckuss, his gaze locked. "Your little 'Gand Fu' display back there almost cost an inmate the use of his arm." He lifted Zuckuss's head with the end of his nightstick. "Are you... proud of yourself?" He stared into the insectoid face before cracking the nightstick across his head. "Answer me! Is it pride?!" A blow to the back of the knee and Zuckuss was on the floor. Bencar grabbed him by the collar to fix him in a venomous glare. "Your reputation means nothing in here! You are a ward of the state and you belong to us!  You have no right to pride!" He released Zuckuss with a swing of his arm and turned away. "Fix his respirator then put him in the Hole. See if that will get him chatting away." Bencar stormed off beyond Cami's line of sight and Zuckuss was yanked to his feet and escorted from the room.

Chapter 4
Dr. Gawynn Karastee shook her head, folding her arms across her chest, her gaze going to the floor for a brief moment before returning to the warden. "Was it racially-motivated?" She was standing before the desk in Captain Bencar's office as they discussed the altercation in the mess hall earlier that day. At the time, Dr. Karastee was in the middle of a meeting with a pharmaceutical representative when she was called away, alerted that her client was the target of the fury of another inmate. Of course she was told this after the fact. Too late if there's a fatality, Karastee again shook her head. "No, there wasn't any gang activity involved," Captain Bencar reviewed his notes of the incident. "Dokk was one of Zuckuss's bounties." Figures, Karastee mentally rolled her eyes. She should have expected that answer. The motivations varied, but they all boiled down to one simple and primitive concept: revenge. It was only too easy for the inmates to act on those motives when they and their intended prey are on a level playing field. "Any injuries?" "Dokk got a bloody nose and some bruised dignity, another inmate's arm was broken, compound fracture at that, and Zuckuss's respirator sustained some damage." Karastee nodded. Zuckuss certainly fared much better than other incarcerated bounty hunters. "I bet it's due to that findsman nerf-spit." Bencar seemed to have read her thoughts. "I mean, we've had other bounty hunters in here before, but none so high-profile. If he wanted to, I bet he could disarm half the officers here real easily." He shook his head. "He wouldn't say anything about who started it. Just stared that stare of his, even after some 'persuasion.'  I don't see why you insist on working with that bug.  He won't talk and when he does, he still doesn't say anything." He shrugged. "Almost like he's paranoid or something. Strange little bug..." "It's the schizophrenia," Karastee said matter-of-fact. "If he were in a residential treatment facility, receiving proper treatment and therapy--" "Hey, Doc, don't go jumping on my case. The judge decides where the inmates go, not me." Bencar interrupted firmly. "Zuckuss is too violent and high-profile to go anywhere else and they closed the Valorum Center." Local budget cuts had seen the closing of a number of residential psychiatric centers, its patients turned loose on the streets. Many of them were not medicated and found themselves incarcerated in a number of prisons. The mentally ill had no advocacy on Coruscant anymore. They were seen as uncontrollable criminals that needed to be removed from society.

Bencar cleared his throat and continued. "For cripes sake, he almost ripped another inmate's arm off! That inmate spent four hours in surgery!  Zuckuss may be short and quiet, for you at least, but he's a serious threat!  He's not one of your usual small-time hunters, Dr. Karastee." Karastee nodded slowly, her gaze going to the floor for a moment. Bencar had a point, Karastee was blind to a majority of the goings-on concerning her clients. She only knew of the fights after being told of them, she, herself, had not the opportunity to bear witness to any of the conflicts. The violent histories of her clients were made known to her through data files and interviews. In addition to that, most of the bounty hunters she worked with were virtual unknowns to the galaxy as a whole. Zuckuss, however, was one of the "Executor Six," hired years ago to acquire one of the most notorious bounties ever to grace the galactic postings. His career had made his name known from the Core to the Outer Rim. He had achieved a sort of legendary status among his people and his long career had found him work with the Hutts, the Empire, and even the Rebel Alliance. Certainly a high-profile case. Such a reputation garnered a level of fear and respect. Though, in the penal system, street cred meant nothing. And behind the walls of Bedlam, the higher the profile, the bigger the target. "So, he's in solitary right now?" Bencar nodded. "He was put in the Hole after his respirator was fixed. He still won't talk, so don't expect to get any information.  Though..." He paused, keying up a file and activating a holographic display for Karastee to view. "This is a shot of his usual cell. He's been vandalizing the walls for a while, looks like.  Can't read it, but I bet it has something to do with that shamanistic nerf-spit." Karastee studied the ideograms and intricate symbols etched painstakingly into the walls. Stressful situations urged Zuckuss's findsman personality out of hiding, perhaps solitary confinement was another trigger. "Anything different about him when he's returned to the general population?" "Oh, you bet. I swear, the Hole must flip him out or something.  Comes out speaking in third-person."

Karastee's suspicions were correct, then. "I'd like to speak with him, if I may." Bencar shook his head. "Not now, you can't. Not for at least 72 hours.  He's in the Hole for a reason; no social interaction with you or the other inmates.  And besides," he tapped a key and shut down the auxiliary holo-display, "the bug's sedated.  When the guards took him down, he started getting combative, so they put him in restraints and knocked him out.  He'll be in Dreamland for at least a few more hours." He paused and fixed Karastee in a stern and intent stare. "What did you talk about during his last session?" "What my client says is of no business of yours." Karastee folded her arms. "Well, Doc, it became our business when Zuckuss started mouthing off about another inmate before he was knocked out." Bencar's gaze did not waver. "Which inmate?" A cold feeling enveloped Karastee's head like a hood.

"Pepan Manja."

Karastee's eyes went to the floor. "Zuckuss was only discussing the hunt."

"That better be the only thing. Next time, don't discuss his hunts.  Last thing we need is for him to be putting out hits on the other inmates.  Zuckuss is enough trouble as it is." Bencar returned his gaze to his work. "Thanks for coming in, Dr. Karastee." Karastee bowed and left the office. "It was no trouble." That was a lie; to put everything on hold to run back to the prison was trouble for what ever semblance of a social life she tried to hold on to. Her clients were always doing something that warranted her attention. Every day, she would hear some complaint that some inmate tried to hang himself, or another inmate put cleaning chemicals into the food and a whole cell block is ill, or the countless of fights, be they racially-motivated or otherwise. No matter what activity she engaged herself in, her mind was forced to drift back to her work. Bedlam did not cage her, they just kept her on a long leash. Karastee sighed, opening the door to her office and stepping inside. One of the corrections officers had left something on her desk, a journal of sorts. Turning it over, Karastee read the inscribed name, then sat down behind her desk, opening the journal. The book belonged to Pepan Manja, and a few cursory glances at the contents as she flipped through to the earmarked section revealed it to be filled with recipes. Recipes for the preparation and serving of a variety of insectoids. Fire-roasted Verpine fillets with a tangerette zest, served on a bed of steamed ootwergs and garnished with a leafy vegetable of which the name Karastee could not readily discern from the sloppy handwriting. Turning another page, Karastee paused to read its contents. Preparations and marinades specifically created to remove the ammonia taste from Gand flesh. Karastee felt a shudder crawl through her core, pooling as a sick feeling in her stomach. Flipping the pages, she found that the section continued for quite a while, the recipes varying in technique and ingredients, from soaking the meat for a few hours to overnight in milk or several types and combinations of cooking wines, to processing the meat under running water or a brine and spicing it with a cabinet's worth of seasonings. The sick feeling grew stronger and Karastee turned to the earmarked section of the journal, her eyes widening as she read the highlighted entries. "By the stars..."