Kori was the first to meet with Tommy in the passageway. The Chancellor met Tommy while he was in mid-transit to the briefing room, which happened to be just a few clicks away from Cal's new quarters, which was not a coincidence. The command ring was an entire centrifuge; it currently held the quarters for all of the Gel-squad members and the Cabinet for the governing body of their home. Which currently was represented by Kori. He wasn't in a rush to select members of his staff. Not that anyone was jumping at the chance to be a body member where there was a constant struggle to get gears churning in the way of operations. No one could blame them; not even Tommy wanted to do it; he was strictly protected, but these days, he was less protected and more being pulled in multiple directions. Kori needed a replacement for a secondary leader. In the old days, such a position was held by someone called the Vice Chancellor. But she's dead. Or a monster.
Since the meeting was going to be later on, the prisoner meeting was to be held at 0400, which Tommy was used to at this point. "Isn't prison upkeep Russell's job?" Tommy added with a hint of annoyance. Russell and Tommy weren't all that close at the moment; they were still playmates, but they had a falling out. A few weeks ago, they came together with a few of the population to build a gordball court on one of the station's lower levels. Gordball was a traditional Omeocoon game, played for generations in their home to anyone outside. It's much more painful for solids, which aren't that resistant. Essentially, the goal is to hit your opponent with a melon; the game wasn't designed for beings who didn't possess an enhanced healing factor. The game has transitioned from fruits to rigid balls within the last few decades. Their arenas were also showered in darkness except for minimal ambient lighting strips, which allowed players to hide barriers and structures in the arena. They attempted to build teams and start a tournament, making it a tradition for the station, the very first one. Still, Russell accused Tommy of cheating at the end of the first round of the first game when he utilized his shapeshifting powers in an unprecedented way. It wasn't his fault he was manipulating his shape better than Russell.
The gordball operation was quickly snuffed. Russell and Tommy were back at square one with their relationship; it reminded him of their first meeting two years ago. Friends fought. Kori, of course, begged the duo to keep up an appearance in public, as the station often held an informal press conference that allowed the population to get updates on the station's situation. They were all smiles and hugs, but backstage, they avoided each other like the plague. But Russell never gave Tommy his piece back, nor did he ever ask for the one he gave to the gel-squirrel. That signaled to Tommy that he wanted to be friends; he just needed breathing room. Tommy knew that Russell was having problems with his temper; after several merges with him, Tommy had experienced that member and even suffered the effects of personality transfer for a few months. He was so angry for no reason the slightest things often set him off. He was worried this wave of emotion was the weight of the apocalypse, his quitting of being a DP hero, the stress that was brought onto him as a temporary leader, and, of course, the fiasco with Russell's village. He could feel it was flushing out of his system, and meeting Cal was his last burst of uncontrollable anger. That left him worrying about his friend, but he would've if Russell wanted to talk, he would've reached out.
"He's not answering the intercom. I sent Kipp to find him; the little one always finds a way to cheer him up. And this prisoner has requested you by name; he was... persistent." Kori continued. They rounded the corner and pressed ahead. "Which one is it again?" Tommy inquired again; he wasn't in charge of prisoner operations and wasn't in a rush to learn names. The only reason why those people were on the station to begin with is because there was nowhere else to dump them. "Howard sometimes goes by Howie."
"Which one does he prefer?"
"Howie."
"And you said he was looking for me by name?"
"Not exactly; he only said he wanted to speak with someone above Russell. He claims that he's being tortured."
Tommy rolled his eyes. He wasn't even in the room yet, and he already knew that the person in question was probably right; before he and Rus stopped talking, Tommy could remember him being quite harsh with the prisoners. Of course, the only person who condemned them was themselves, but that was no reason to bully them. They reached their door, and Tommy turned toward Kori. "Wait here, I won't be long."
Kori raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Oh? I figured you would've wanted me to come with you."
"You have better things to do, like getting ready for that staff meeting and running the entire population," Tommy answered. The debate was closed as Kori chortled at Tommy's assertiveness. The Chancellor bowed with a grin, "I'll see you later." Tommy nodded and turned to place his palm on the scanner, which would allow him to enter the room. The door hissed as it sealed behind him. Dark walls enclosed windowless walls replaced the lighting and openness of the corridor. The lighting panels of bright, white light were substituted by wall-embedded lighting strips that shifted the environment to a dim glow, casting shadows that seemed to dance on the walls as the other occupant joined. Howie was seated at a small table, his hands cuffed to it; they didn't trust him that much; not even shifting-inhibitors were enough. He looked up as Tommy entered, his eyes filled with desperation and defiance.
"You're the one in charge here, right?" Howie asked, his voice strained.
"In charge of some things, yeah," Tommy replied, eyeing Howie warily. Tommy said as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of the prisoner. "What do you want?"
Howie hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Your friend, the chief of security, refuses to grant us leniency; he traps me in a cell with no socialization for days at a time; the only time I get to see another person is when my handler comes to take me on walks, he won't even let me have a pet! He's crazy, and it's torture!"
Tommy leaned against the back of the chair, crossing his arms as Howard exploded into frantic anger. "Torturing? Russell might not be gentle, but we're not running a resort here. You're prisoners for a reason."
Howie's eyes pleaded for understanding. "I get it. We messed up, but we're still people. We shouldn't be treated like this."
"Look, Howie, you made your choices. You attacked innocent people, and now you're paying for it. This station is the only thing keeping you alive. You should be grateful."
Howie's anger continued to boil over. "Grateful? Do you call this living? We're locked up like animals, subjected to whatever Russell feels like doing to us. It's not right."
Tommy sighed, a mix of exhaustion and frustration etched on his face. "I'll talk to Russell. But you need to understand there are consequences for your actions. You can't expect to be treated like guests."
Howie's eyes narrowed. "And what would you know about consequences? You walk around like you're untouchable."
Tommy's expression darkened. "You have no idea what I've been through. The weight on my shoulders, the choices I've had to make. You don't get to judge me."
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud clanging noise. The airlock door swung open, revealing Russell with a scowl.
"What's all this about, Tommy? And what's that doing here." Russell demanded; he pointed at Howard, the canine shriveling up, but he couldn't pull all that far back because he was still handcuffed to a table. His terror replaced his anger.
Despite the fear, Howard seized the opportunity, pointing at Russell through shackled hands. "See what I mean? He called me a thing just now! Did you see that?!"
Russell's eyes narrowed, his temper flaring. He crossed his arms, and despite the emotion lingering behind the mask, he still smiled sadistically. "Torturing? I'm... enforcing discipline. These people attacked our home and killed my friends, and now they want sympathy?"
Tommy stepped between them, trying to defuse the tension. "Russ, just hear him out. If there's a problem, we need to address it."
Russell glared at Howard but reluctantly nodded. "Fine, talk. But make it quick."
Howie took a deep breath and began recounting the alleged mistreatment, emphasizing the physical and emotional toll it was taking on the prisoners. Tommy listened, torn between loyalty to his friend and a growing sense of responsibility for the well-being of those under his care.
As the story unfolded, Tommy realized that maintaining order on the station was a delicate balance, and the consequences of their actions would continue to ripple through the lives of prisoners and residents. The choices made in the confines of that cold, metal room would shape the destiny of the station and its inhabitants. "Yeesh, that's not something I'd like to hear. True... they are prisoners, and the system of justice is still being designed, but we can't just do whatever we want. It would help if you let him see his friends. You can't forget they lost something to those bombs, too."
"Yeah, they lost it because they were the ones that caused it. Do you have any idea who that is? Howard is a computer engineer working as the orchestrator for Kieran's communications network. He and his friends are insane; if we let them sit in a room together, who knows what they'll come up with? They'll do anything to escape!" Russell's eyes narrowed at Howard, and Howard glared back.
"Seriously? Where are they going to go?"
"Escape pod? That's how Cameron kidnapped you two years ago. Remember?" Tommy did; he and Cam weren't best friends, but they'd started to build something of a relationship. Cam was easier to get behind because he was a puppet. "Yeah, I do. But I'm sure you'll keep an eye on them."
Russell cursed a nasty word that made Tommy grimace. "Tommy, you can't be serious!" Tommy held up a hand, and that silenced Russell. "Russell, we need to find a middle ground here. I understand; they did some messed-up things, but we can't forget what your brother did to us. We're better than that. And right now, you're reminding me of him."
Russell clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw working as he glared at Tommy. "Better than that? These people don't care about anything except their agenda. You're being too soft."
"I'm not saying we let them run free. But we need to treat them with a bit of decency. It's a thin line between maintaining order and becoming the monsters we're trying to protect ourselves from," Tommy argued, his tone firm.
The air in the room became tense as Russell and Tommy stood their ground. Howie watched a mixture of anxiety and hope in his eyes. The responsibility of making decisions impacting lives weighed heavily on Tommy's shoulders.
"Fine, Tommy, you want to play the compassionate leader? In fact? Please do it, I beg you. So it can blow up in your face, and I can help you pull yourself back together." Russell grumbled that sadistic glare-smile returned.
Tommy nodded, appreciating the compromise. "Great, I'm so glad you agree." He responded and grinned, his official response to Russell's smile.
"I don't 'agree,' I'm only saying yes because I know it'll shut him up." With that, Russell stormed out of the room, leaving Tommy and Howie silent. Tommy turned to Howie, a mix of empathy and caution in his eyes.
"Listen, Howie, I'll do what I can to improve your situation, but you need to understand the gravity of your actions. We're trying to build something better here, and that requires cooperation, even from people like you," Tommy said, his voice holding a stern edge.
Howie nodded, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "I get it. Just... don't let Russell go overboard. We're still Omeocoon, even if we messed up."
Tommy sighed, knowing the challenges of balancing justice and compassion in this harsh new reality. "I'll do my best."
Tommy pondered the delicate balance required to lead a community in the aftermath of an apocalypse as he exited the room.