Ruckus in Krupkat
06 Dec 2017Illeana Grimm-Turner
Location: Krupkat Orbital (Rauras)Date: 3rd November 3303
All around in the dark gloom of the dock corridors the distant muffled sound of buzzing engines and the thudding of landing gears could be heard coming from above. The hallways were completely deserted, excepting the small gathering outside one of the landing bay doors. Four people were huddled around close to one of the walls in what appeared to be a secretive grouping of friends muttering to one another. The three men standing between the woman and the rest of the hall, with her back to the wall.
“What do you want exactly?” Illeana demanded, feeling the sharp point of the blade dig in under her lowest left rib.
“Oh, now you’re interested?” the man scoffed. “Funny that, eh? Maybe I jus’ wanna teach you some manners?” His friends chuckled at this. One of them lurched forward, only just keeping his balance as he reached out and brushed a lock of Illy’s hair from her face. The action sent a shiver down her spine. Fearing what was to come, she kept a brave face and spoke in what she hoped was a commanding voice.
“If it’s money, I’ll give you money. But if you don’t let me go, you’ll regret it!” She shifted herself off the blade slightly to prevent it digging further.
Sniggering, the man to her right replied, “Really? How’s that then?”
Trying to conceal her trembling nerves the young woman spoke with bravado, “I… My boyfriend will be here soon,” So he wasn’t actually her boyfriend but they didn’t know that. “Where the hell is Tim anyway?”
This merely got the three men guffawing louder. The leader clamped harder on her shoulder and thrust the switchblade right back into position, cutting into her top with the movement. Illy cried out slightly as it scratched her flesh, not deeply, but just enough. She could feel warm blood trickling down down towards her hip. She moved her hand instinctively to cover the wound, but one of the men grabbed her wrist tightly and pinned it against the wall.
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In that instant, she was a young teenager again. Two boys held her arms against the schoolyard wall while a third approached with a pair of scissors.
“I think you’ll look good with short hair,” he mocked.
The joke was on him though. Illy had been practicing hard in martial arts classes for just such an occasion. Before he could get anywhere near her hair, she broke out of the grip of the other pair and knocked them to the floor. Quick as a flash, she liberated the scissors from the other boy’s hands and gave him a kick to the gut. Before she knew it, two teachers had arrived and began dragging her out of reach while she kicked and screamed in protest.
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The image faded from her mind's eye and muscle memory kicked in; she twisted her arm and pulled her attacker towards her, simultaneously bringing her knee up into his stomach. Knocking the arm of the man holding the blade out of the way in the process, he grunted loudly and collapsed to the floor. Following up by throwing her purse at the third man to distract him, she clamped down on the arm holding the blade and twisted. Hearing his cries of pain as the hand opened up and released the offending object, she stuck her foot down in between his legs and tripped him over. As he hit the ground with a thud, she turned on the third assailant, who was standing dumbfounded, and only now seemed to be registering what was happening. Throwing his hands up to protect his face proved futile; Illy’s fist flew at them and his own defence was pushed back into his nose in a sickening crunch.
Reaching down to her side, Illeana assessed her cut. The flow of blood was already slowing up. She bent down to retrieve her purse when something grabbed her ankle and pulled hard. Unable to stop herself, she fell to the floor, hitting her elbow off the solid metal flooring. Pain shot up her arm, leaving a tingling sensation in her left hand as she turned to face the offender. She felt the man fumbling for something. Turning she saw the first man’s hand curling around the dropped blade.
Spotting a clumsy and desperate swipe coming in, she moved her leg out of the way as he brought the blade down towards her thigh.
“Bitch!” he screamed, raising the blade once again.
Spotting her opportunity, Illy responded in kind.
“Asshole!” she called back, bringing up her heel and thrusting it sole first towards his face. She winced in pain as his second swipe caught her leg, but it wasn’t enough to stop her foot. A blood curdling scream filled the halls as her attack connected. The man dropped his blade and covered his face before rolling over and writhing in pain. Pushing herself out of his reach, she pulled off her heels and was about to make a run for it when she realised what had just happened.
Examining the shoe, she noted the heel had snapped off and a smear of blood was now covering the sole.
No sooner had the realisation dawned on her than another pair of hands clamped down on her shoulders. Instinctively moving to fight she grabbed the offending arm, ready to continue defending herself before a voice called out.
“Illy, you’re ok! You’re ok!” came Tim’s cries.
She stopped, turning to see who was now pulling her to her feet, and saw the familiar uniform and protective gear of Station Security. Several others had now gathered around, as well as a medical team, who had rushed to attend to the man lying in a steadily growing pool of blood. One of the medics had placed themselves in Illy’s view, so she couldn’t see the damage she’d caused to his face. The other two attackers, their injuries considerably less severe, were simply pulled to their feet and cuffed. They glared maliciously at Illy as they were led past, but she stood tall and gave her own dirty look right back.
Illeana’s head was buzzing. She felt like a bomb had gone off nearby as her brain began coming down from the adrenaline rush her body had provided. The voices around her were muffled, nonsensical noises as she looked around at the scene surrounding her. One officer was questioning Tim, who was answering earnestly and hurriedly, hoping to finish up quickly and comfort Illy. Right now, she had no feelings towards him. She had no feelings at all in fact. She was completely numb, functioning on autopilot and simply responding to outside stimuli with grunts and nods of acknowledgement. A Medic had begun cleaning the wound on her leg, a cut that extended about an inch down her calf, but Illy hadn’t even noticed.
As the medic led her to a bench to take a look at her wound, Illy caught her first glimpse of the third man. He was lying flat on his back in between two medics, a large dressing wrapped around his head and the heel from her shoe. Which was now embedded neatly in his eye socket.
Try as she might, she couldn’t express any remorse over the incident. Although the image did threaten to bring up her breakfast, so she tore away her gaze and focussed on the man tending to her leg. Thankfully neither cut was deep enough to be considered serious, and she was left with simple dressings over both her rib and her calf as Tim was finally allowed to sheepishly approach her.
She stood up as he approached, clutching her purse tightly and gritting her teeth. Her mind was beginning to clear up and she was recalling her feelings from earlier. Once he reached her, he opened his arms in an offer of a hug. It may have helped make her feel better but Illy was not in the mood for it as she clenched her fist and smacked his jaw with a right hook. Looking around, several heads had turned to see what the commotion was as Tim held a hand against his cheek and looked back towards Illy, who was now seething.
“I guess I deserved that…” he said, his face somewhat crestfallen.
“You’re damn right you did. Where in kólasi were you?” she spat. Tim looked at her solemnly before dropping his gaze to his feet.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I got held up at work so I rushed home to get ready, but I was already late. I didn’t have your contact info so I couldn’t call ahead. By the time I got here those men were already on you, so I ran to get help,” he rattled off. Illeana listened intently and considered his response carefully. While she stood in silence, Tim remained looking at his feet like a scolded puppy.
He’d sounded genuine enough and it wasn’t his fault the men had attacked her. He was only guilty of terrible timekeeping. “I guess you’re buying all the drinks tonight then,” she conceded as Tim looked up at her with a small grin.
“Definitely! Anything!” he said, nodding his approval.
“I need one after all that, let’s go back to my ship first, I’m not going out in this anymore.” she said, gesturing to her now torn clothes. “Assuming, of course, we’re even allowed to leave yet?”
The final man had been carried off leaving a few security officers. No one seemed to be paying Tim or Illeana any heed. This struck her as a little odd, given what had just happened surely someone should be talking to her. Deciding they were just going to leave her alone otherwise, she decided to approach one of the officers.
“Excuse me, are we free to go or…?” she let the question hang in the air.
“I’ll need a few details first, if that’s alright, miss...?” came the response
“Illeana Grimm-Turner” she said. The officer tapped away on his datapad inputting her details, never looking up from it as he fired more questions at her.
“And you’re a Pilot, right?” he grunted.
“Correct.”
“You got a ship, Miss Turner?”
“It’s Grimm-Turner, and yes. A Cobra Mark Four called Eleftheria.” She bristled slightly at her Mother’s name being left out.
“The what now?”
“Ell-Eff-Thee-Ree-Ah,” she enunciated before continuing on to spell it for him, making particular note to get the accents on the appropriate letters. After answering a few more questions, the officer tapped once more on his pad and looked up at her.
“Right, Miss, I just need to check with my superiors about what we’re doing with you. Please wait here.” He turned away, muttering into the comms device on his chest. Tim and Illy were once again on their own, sharing tired glances between themselves.
“There’s this bar in the entertainment district that I like,” said Tim, with a shrug. “Decent music, not too busy, reasonable prices. I was going to take you there if you like?”
“Sounds lovely. What’s it called?” Illy responded, a small smile appearing on her face.
“Hydro-Den. I think it’s supposed to be a pun. It’s the atmosphere I visit for, to be honest.”
Illeana reached out to grab his hand. He really did seem sorry about the whole thing. It wouldn’t be right to punish him for the consequence rather than the crime. So he was late, it happens. If he’d known that being late would lead to all of this, it was a safe bet he would have made more of an effort.
Her gesture was cut short as an officer returned, grabbed her wrist, then promptly cuffed her. The gruff voice of the officer stopped her calling out in surprise.
“Illeana Grimm-Turner, you are under arrest.”
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Location: Krupkat Orbital (Rauras)
Date: 4th November 3303
“Worst… Date… Ever…” Illeana thought to herself, burying her face in her hands. The metal bench she sat on had doubled as her bed for the night. With nothing more than a thin linen sheet and something that barely resembled a pillow for the night, to say she’d gotten little sleep that night would be an understatement. The noise from the other cell mates didn’t help; with their constant catcalling and sexist remarks echoing through the halls, she could be forgiven for thinking none of them had ever seen a woman in their lives.
Not that any of it served to help her. Apparently one of the men she’d fought, namely the one whose nose she’d broken, had suffered some sort of blood clot. By the time Doctors had realised it was too late, the man had a seizure and died. So now she was in a cell, awaiting a decision on whether she was to be placed on manslaughter charges. Something that carries penalties ranging from long jail time, to the death sentence, depending on the system. Back home in Abrog it was usually just jail time, depending on the circumstances. Here in Rauras, however, she had no idea.
The thought terrified her.
They hadn’t even let her contact anyone. Not Tim, who’d given his contact info before she was carted off, nor a legal representative, nor even her family. Instead she’d just been left alone, with nothing more than an iron bar door separating her from what she considered the dregs of society. At least she had her own cell, though. Getting up and peering through the bars she could see several other holding cells where occupants were doubled up. Some were men, others were women, but they only shared with others of the same gender. Illy figured she ought to be grateful there was an odd number of women here.
“Lemme guess, stole a purse?” came a husky voice from her right.
“Sorry, what?” Illy remarked, looking around for the source.
“You obviously aren’t some hardened gang member so, what you here for?” came the male voice again. Looking to the side she could see the man sticking his head into the bars to get a better look at her.
“And what, because I’m a girl you decided I stole a purse?” she spat, not in the least bit pleased with being spoken down to.
“Pretty thing like you? Purse, shoes, maybe a dress. Certainly wasn’t anything else,” came another snide remark. Illeana gritted her teeth for a second and then responded calmly and cooly.
“Killed a man with my bare fists. Not a big deal.”
A moment of silence passed by and eventually she saw the man let go of the iron bars of his cell and disappear back inside. She couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride at having had such an effect on someone, but it was lost in the wave of guilt that overwhelmed her. A single tear was brought to her eye and she quickly wiped it aside before anyone noticed.
Retreating back inside her cell she lay down on her bench again and covered her face with her arm, letting the other one drop down towards the floor. With no idea of what the time was, she had no way to know how long she’d been here. Nonetheless it felt like hours before a guard came and took her from her cell.
“Where are we going?” Illy asked while her cuffs were clicked over her wrists.
“Just need to have a little chat, that’s all,” the man replied before leading her down the hall. Stealing a short glance into some of the cells, she grinned inwardly at the fact that some of the occupants averted their gaze from her. She couldn’t deny to herself that she was seriously worried. But as they approached the interrogation room Illy made sure to maintain her calm exterior. The guard opened the door and led her to a seat in the middle of the room.
Staring across the table as the guard attached her chains to an iron hoop bolted to the table, she could see her reflection for the first time. Her hair was a mess, makeup had been smudged and her eyes looked worn and tired in testament to how roughly she’d slept. Once again, she was left alone to her thoughts which, against all odds, helped her to remain calm. She was innocent, after all. It had been self defence, the men had attacked first and all she’d done was fight them off. The fact one of them suffered a complication couldn’t be held against her, right?
Before long, a man in a crisp black suit and a red tie entered the room with a datapad in one hand, and a cup of water in the other. Without a word, he sat down opposite her, just off to one side, presumably to allow an unhindered view of a hidden camera somewhere. Then he clicked on his datapad and began scrolling through it, stopping only to take a sip of his water now and then.
The waiting was having the effect Illeana presumed he was going for. The confidence she’d built up with her mentally rehearsed recounting of the fight was slowly being sapped away. She had gone from watching the man carefully, to glancing around fervently in anticipation. Eventually, the man spoke a single word. His voice gentle, but firm.
“Name?”
“Uhh… Illeana” she replied, unsure why the question was necessary but answering anyway.
“Okay, Illeana. Care to recount the events of last night?” he said, not even looking up from the pad.
Illy was already caught off guard. She’d expected more from the man before he jumped straight in and to the point. Her previous thoughts were all wiped away in an instant.
“I… Uhh… What?” she stammered.
“Last night. The three men. What happened?” he said, barely glancing at her.
Illeana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands resting on the table. She leaned back slightly and tilted her head while closing her eyes. Recounting the events brought a chill to her heart, but she took a deep breath, steeled herself and launched into her story. Starting with meeting Tim, then arranging the date, before continuing on to the men approaching her. She paused briefly when she reached the part about the man pulling the knife on her, wanting to consider how she could explain taking on the three men single handedly. Rehashing it now it sounded utterly ridiculous, one woman taking out three men like they were nothing. Of course, the fact they were seriously drunk was probably what made it possible.
Several minutes passed as she spoke, during which the man listened intently. He still refused to look at her, instead tapping furiously into his pad, presumably taking notes as she tried to fill as much of the details as possible. Once she got to the part about kicking the last man in the face, however, she stopped. She felt a sharp pang of guilt as the image of her heel protruding from his skull flashed in front of her eyes.
As though on cue, the man slid the datapad over to her and flicked on three images.
First the image of the man she’d winded was brought in front of her. Besides looking slightly worse for wear, probably hungover more than anything, he seemed perfectly okay. The other two images were less pleasant. The second man was a ghostly white, clearly having been dead for a few hours at least. His nose was wonky too, showing where Illy had broken it. Seeing it made her stomach turn and she wanted to avert her eyes but something drew her to keep looking. That decision was regretted immediately as the tapped on the third image, bringing it into full screen. If she’d managed to eat anything in the past few hours, she was certain it would have been paying them another visit.
In front of her was the man who had the unfortunate privilege of being acquainted with the bottom of her foot. No bandage, no heel, just a very bruised left side of his face, and an empty black space where an eyeball used to sit.
This time she did turn her head away.
“Why are you showing me this?” she said quietly, trying not to fall apart.
“These men said you started the fight. Funny thing is, the cameras in that area were all disabled a couple of hours before you claim to have left the hangar,” he said, finally looking up at her studiously. “So here’s what I have just now. A strange pilot turns up, causes a stir by struggling to do something as simple as land her ship, then apparently gets a date within mere minutes of docking. Next day, camera faults happen and three men end up in hospital and one dies.”
He paused momentarily, letting the implications sit in.
“You can see why I have an issue with all of this, right?” he followed up, raising a eyebrow.
Panic started to set in and Illeana began talking quickly and feverishly. “I don’t know what else to say. Nothing I’ve said was a lie. I didn’t go out of my way to get into a fight. I don’t even know these people, much less have some sort of grudge against them. Like you said, I just got here, how could I know them? I mean, I had a date….”
The man held up his hand to halt her talking and she instantly clammed up. His voice changed from stern to kindly, like a switch had been flipped somewhere.
He paused momentarily, pulling the images away from her and clicking the screen onto standby. “One of the guys is a known troublemaker. Gets into bar fights all the time, amongst other things. His buddies? Well, they’re less known for trouble. But any times they are involved, the other one is there too. He’s sort of the ringleader. We had their fourth guy in for questioning too, but since he wasn’t directly involved this time we couldn’t hold him.”
“O...K…?” Illy responded, confused but getting slightly more hopeful. Rather than give her a response, the man rose from his seat, gathered his things and left the room, taking with him all the hope Illy had been clinging on to. She sat drumming her fingers on the desk impatiently. This was it, she’d said her piece and now it was out of her hands. All that was left for her to do was sit and wait.
And wait…
And wait a bit more…
The cuffs that had her attached to the table were beginning to rub into her wrists now, leaving angry red marks around them. Her ass was getting numb from the metal chair and her legs were getting stiff from a lack of use. Despite this, she kept herself calm. Whatever the outcome, worrying would do nothing to change it.
Eventually the man returned, flanked by two guards. Illy feared the worst. You don’t need guards to escort an innocent person she thought. Her heart sank and she immediately slouched back into her seat dejectedly.
“Illeana,” said the man, “you’re free to go. These gentlemen are here to escort you to your ship.” He reached forward to uncuff her from the table.
“Es...scort me?” she asked. “What for?”
“These guys, they have friends. That fourth guy we mentioned has connections. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not some hardened gang. Just local thugs,” he explained. “We’ll take you to your ship on the off chance one or more of them decide to try something.”
Illeana nodded in agreement, grateful for the concern. Before long she had been led to the front desk to gather her things and was on her way to her ship. Two guards flanking her in complete silence. The walk was long and boring, but nothing happened to raise any concerns and eventually they arrived back at her bay door. Looking around, it would be hard to believe anything had happened just the previous night. The hall was cleared of any evidence that a bloody fight had taken place less than twenty four hours ago.
Nodding to her guards by way of thanks, she tapped in her hangar access code and stepped inside. She made her way briskly towards her Cobra and went straight up the access ramp. It had been a tough decision, but she’d made up her mind and wanted to leave here immediately. But not after doing one more thing.
Pulling up her datapad she tapped a message and sent it off, then went to her quarters, changed into her Remlock and began preparing the ship for take off. Once it was powered up and ready, she decided to wait for another half an hour for a response. Killing time by looking for potential delivery contracts, she leaned back in her pilot's seat and placed her feet on the dashboard. He’d either show, or he wouldn’t, either way she wasn’t about to hang around.
Looking towards the bay door she saw it opening.
“Third time’s the charm” she thought to herself, smiling.
She got up, rushed to the entrance hatch and opened it before her visitor had the chance to knock.
“Hi, Tim. Ready for this date at last?” she said, grinning profusely.
With thanks as always to Stryker Aune for his invaluable insight and help, and (once again) to Jemine Caesar for her insight, spelling, and grammer checking.
It's long overdue, but of course thanks to you, the reader. Knowing you're enjoying my work inspires me to continue. For that, you have my eternal gratitude.