Doom approached. At least that’s how the man curled up on the floor at the back of the shuttle saw it. From a distances his eyes looked empty and litless, but if you were to look closely enough you would see that they were watching everything going on around him warily. His hair was dirty and greasy looking and his golden skin had an odd pallor to it, almost as if he was recovering for a long term illness. Which was why to any observer it would be a shock to see such a weak looking man locked behind a force field. Not only that but the prisoner was guarded by four men (not including the pilot who was also an officer) as if he were to suddenly rise from his position on the floor and somehow take over the small Intelligence shuttlecraft that was transporting him to the Prision ship U.S.S Swift.

“Are we there yet?” The prisoner whined, “Mum. Dad.” he looked at the guards he’d obviously dubbed mum and dad, “I’m booooaaarrd.” The two guards gave him an irritated glance before looking away. They’d been stuck with the prisioner ever since he’d been cleared by medical for transport and they were eager to be rid of him. Even straight after he’d come out of surgery a couple of days earlier, he’d had the never ending comments and complaints and all four of the guards couldn’t wait to be rid of it.

=^= U.S.S Selvador to U.S.S Swift we are bringing the prisoner onboard now. Do we have clearance for docking? Over =^=

=^= Preparing docking precedures now =^=

As the pilot glided the shuttle into the docking bay, the four guards focused their attentions on the prisoner. Two of them pulled out their phasers setting them on stun and kept them trained on the prisoner, while one guard manned the forcefield dropping it long enough for the fourth guard to join the prisoner in his cell before sealing the pair of them in together. Understanding what was going on the prisoner placed his wrists obligingly in front of his body to be cuffed. “A bit much fellas?” the prisoner asked, as he was hauled to his feet, the force field dropping only once he was standing and it was obvious the cuffs were secure. “Jus for little ol’ me,” the guard holding him gave him a firm shake, “Quiet you,” he growled. The prisoner laughed, but thankfully remained silent.

Obediently he walked beside his escorts towards the door of the shuttlecraft, but as the door opened he suddenly stumbled into the officer on his left, angling his shoulder down and then upwards shoving the surprised officer off of his feet. With speed that any passive observe wouldn’t have thought him capable of mere minutes earlier the prisoner turned and dropped, avoiding the predicted phaser blasts as he charged at the guards behind him shoving them into heach other. Another phaser blast was fired but the shot went wild, missing the prisoner by an inch. The two officers fell over, as they lost their balance and went down in a tangled heap. Sensing movement behind him the prisoner swung out at the movement, making contact enough to grab and throw the upright guard right back into the first guard who had just managed to get back on their feet. Another phaser blast fired. Not stopping to see the bowling pins fall, the prisoner with a flashy un-necessary flip, landing by the Intelligence pilot. He taunted the pilot dodging the shots as the pilot fired them until he found the right opening and jumped on the pilots back throwing his arms over the pilots head using the cuffs to choke the pilot. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” The prisoner said in an almost friendly tone, “What are the command codes to the vessal?”

“Go to -” The pilot choked as the prisoner tightened his grip. The prisoner shrugged, “Your choice mate,” he said using his grip to slam the pilots head into the wall. Releasing the now unconscious pilot the prisoner leant over the consol and started pressing buttons trying to get the doors to the shuttle shut before the Swifts Security made it to assist. A phaser blast made him jump however, the second one making him crumble, even as he was turning to face them. “Come on guys,” he said staring up at the stern face of his shooter, “You can’t blame a desperate man for trying. No hard feelings right?”

One of the original guards fixed him with a cold stare, marching over while he was still weak from the blast and yanking him to his feet. “Move it,” she growled, as someone else moved behind him and shoved a phaser uncomfortably into his back. “Thank your lucky stars this is a Starfleet vessal,” they hissed, “If it were up to me I’d be making you pay for that stunt.”*

The (new) Prisoner