Revolt

The silence as they trudged onward grew heavier, and colder, with each passing second. Calvo could see the fury in the guardswomens' eyes. The reheaded Captain looked as though he had betrayed her personally by not saving Stripe. and as for V, the clone sisier and lover of the dead girl, her hatred was so intense that Calvo could feel it, boring in to him like a low intensity laser. He was sure that they were whispering among themselves, planning something, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep them all under close scrutiny all the time. Fatigue was begining to wear him down, blur his attention, his concentration. It was a dangerous time, and Calvo knew it. Each guard had her wrists bound behind her back, and he had all the painsticks and stunguns...yet somehow, Calvo felt he was loosing control of the situation.

A sudden sound, a gasping grunt, pulled him from his thoughts. One of the guards, the petite oriental beauty, lay face down, motionless on the ground. The Captain knelt at her side her bound hands leaving her with nothing to do but call to the woman, trying to rouse her, before turning to where Calvo stood, uncertain and tense, a few paces away.

"Something bit her...like a lizard, but with six legs. It must be poisonous....DO something you bastard! I'm not going to loose another woman because of you."

He hasitated a moment longer, before stepping forward.

"Back off"

The Captain stood, moved away a few paces, to stand with the cluster of other guards, while Calvo knelt beside the fallen woman. The petite, slender oriental girl was still motionless where she had collapsed. Calvo's gaze was drawn momentarily to the tight curves of her perfect little ass, the skintight white uniform even showing the tiny triangle of her thong above her pert asscheeks. Calvo rolled her on to her back, placing his ear to her chest between the small cones of her dainty breasts.

A sound....

Calvo leaped to his feet, turning, levelling the stungun he had been holding. Too late. V had already dived, headlong, her face a mask of white hot rage that he had only a moment to register, before she smashed a headbut in to the bridge of his nose. Pain and white light exploded in front of Calvo's eyes as he went down. He was vaguely aware that he had lost his grip on the stungun, and scrambled for another, or a painstick, from his belt, but he knew it was too late, he could hear the others sprinting to join the attack. A savage kick to his balls curled him in to a gasping, defenceless feotal ball. Booted feet thudded against him, until finally, one caught him in the head, sending Calvo spinning, mercifully, in to oblivion.

....................................................................................................................

He came too and immediately wished he had not. Calvo's body seemed to be one vast ache, and his vision blurred in and out of focus with each beat of his heart. There were voices, and when he was able to make out what they were saying, he realised that a fierce argument was raging between the guardswomen. V, and some of the others, were calling for Calvo to be executed on the spot. The Captain, her voice low, reasonable, commanding, was saying that he had to be returned to the prison. Dejected that he had been recaptured, and in wretched pain, Calvo could not have said which was the better option, at that point.