Chapter 1:

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Veerna drew a brush through her pure white hair, smirking at herself in the mirror. Ten more minutes until his visit. She'd be ready for him. The question was ... would he be ready for her? She hummed to herself as her hand fell to the pistol concealed in her black leather jacket. Not a bad catch for being in the most secure prison ship in the galaxy, the U.S.S. Barank.

Casually, Veerna went to the door of lasers, looking out at the other cells. All of them were empty except for her own. Apparently, the Federation didn't trust her enough around other prisoners. Or, more appropriately, Sareen didn't trust her around other prisoners. Fair enough.

The laser field lifted exactly nine minutes later to let in Veerna's psychologist, Don Collego. As usual, the young man looked incredibly anxious. He fiddled with his tie beneath his tweed jacket, and his ashen-brown hair was rumpled. To be honest, he was rather good-looking, but Veerna didn't feel like tying herself down—particularly not with somebody who thought she was crazy. "Hello, Veerna," Don said. He stood at the same height as Veerna—six feet exactly—but he was more broad-shoulder than she was. "How are you today?"

The laser field had gone back up, as usual, trapping Don temporarily in the cell with her. Veerna sat down on the edge of her uncomfortable cot. "Well enough," she said with a sly grin. "I appreciate the inclusion of a mirror, Donny."

As usual, he flinched when she called him "Donny". "You did say it would make you feel happier," he mumbled. Don's face turned red when Veerna patted the cot beside her. "I'm fine here, thank you."

"Aw, come on, Doc," she said. "Just a seat? It's too uncomfortable standing around, watching each other."

Heaving a sigh, Don sat down beside her, keeping his distance. "Have you considered the offer the Federation made you?" he asked.

"Oh, you mean the one where I put myself on a leash for them?" Veerna replied. "I've considered it alright. And do you know what I decided on?" She leaned closer to Don, uncomfortably close. The psychologist moved back a little, grimacing. The grimace was about to get a whole lot worse, Veerna thought with glee. She reached into her leather jacket, her long, white fingers wrapping around the gun.

Don coughed. "You're going to work with us?" he squeaked. He seemed even more ill at ease than usual.

The gun pressed against his forehead seemed to change his mind. "Veerna!" he cried.

She gave him a sweet smile. "No, dear Don. I am not going to work with you. On the contrary, if I'm not let out of this cell immediately, I'm going to kill you. How does that sound?"

He seemed incapable of forming a response.

. . . . . . . . .

Xander Weni cursed in the security booth of the Barank. "She's got Collego as a hostage," he reported, turning to face Sareen. The Voldinian mirrored Xander's curse.

"Will she kill him?" Sareen asked him, fingering a white curl in her ponytail. Her displeasure was obvious.

"She'll kill him if we don't give into her demands," Xander answered, wiping sweat from his brow. Gee, first day on the Barank, and Veerna is masterminding an escape. Could your luck get any worse? "What are your orders?"

"Let them out," Sareen ordered. "She'll be coming past here. Watch your back." She moved to leave the booth.

"Hey, wait!" Xander cried, standing up. Sareen turned with a dark scowl on her face, and he flinched. Maybe ordering his superior officer around hadn't been his best plan. "You're leaving me here alone?"

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