Don't Come Back! (Backpost)

Posted on Sun Apr 19th, 2020 @ 1:33am by Security Johannah "Mack" Shepard

Mission: Bright and Shiny things
Location: Newgate Prison, Londinium
Timeline: 2511 (Backpost)

2511 (Right after the end of the war, roughly 8 years prior to the signal)
Newgate Prison
Londinium

“Wake up prisoner 24601!” said the prison guard as he banged on the cell door. “Hands off your twat and pick up your socks. Your number is up!”

Prisoner 24601 was Johannah Mackensie “Mack the Knife” Shepard. She’d been a 1st Lieutenant in the Army of the Independent Colonies, later a Captain. Unfortunately for her, before that she’d been a newly minted 2nd Lieutenant in the Army of the Alliance. The way Mack saw it was that she had resigned her commission with the Alliance to join up with the Browncoats. The way the Alliance saw it was that she abandoned her post in war time and joined the enemy. As such, now that the Independents had lost the war, Mack was facing charges of desertion, treason, and for good measure they charged her with being AWOL for the last five years. The penalty would normally be death, but in order to reduce the amount of time they spent chasing down turncoats, the Alliance offered a deal. Surrender yourself peacefully, be taken into custody and held until your case could be reviewed. On a case by case basis, upon review, you could either be sentenced to life in prison, given a sentence of any number of years, or be released and encouraged to beat feet ‘for those damned colonies you love so much…’. That was, of course, presuming you weren’t on a list of people who the Alliance considered war criminals.

Mack was hoping to be released, but she was starting to lose hope. They’d been holding her for quite a while. She was starting to lose track of time, but she figured it had been a few months. Now it seemed the waiting, one way or the other, was coming to an end. But to what end?

Mack obediently got up and pulled on her boots. She slept in her clothes. If the guards got any ideas about having a little fun with the female prisoners, she wanted to be ready. There had been a lot of innuendo and only her reputation kept them from doing anything one on one. That, and she suspected having a father who was a decorated Alliance Colonel with an even nastier rep probably helped.

Mack turned to face the wall opposite the door and got down on her knees, one leg crossed over the other at the ankles. She placed her hands behind her head and interlocked her fingers. She heard the door open.

“Good little Browncoat,” the guard said. Mack could hear from the footsteps that there were four of them. They weren’t taking any chances. Mack didn’t quite understand the fuss. Even if she took all of them out, where exactly was she going to go? One of the guards walked up behind her and roughly cuffed her hands behind her back. “Get up!” he said when he was done.

Mack got to her feet.

“Alright,” the team leader said. “Let’s go.”

Mack walked in the middle of the four guards as instructed as she was escorted to an interview room. In the room was an Alliance Marshal, and in the shadows stood someone else. The guards roughly shoved her into the chair across the table from the Marshal. The Marshal looked at the team leader and nodded.

“Are you sure?” the team leader said. “Word is she’s dangerous even without her weapons.”

“I’m sure,” the Marshal said. “Captain Shepard isn’t going to do anything stupid. That’s right isn’t it, Captain? I have your word as an officer, deserter and traitor though you are?”

Mack looked at the Marshal a moment. She was surprised he’d used her Browncoat rank as opposed to her Alliance rank. The Alliance didn’t usually recognize the Army of the Independent Colonies as a legitimate organization.

“Yes,” Mack said. “As long as nobody tries to… interfere with me, I’m not planning on causing any trouble. Had enough of that these last five years to last me the next few decades.”

The Marshal nodded again and the guards stepped back. “Now, Captain Shepard,” the Marshal said. “We have reviewed your record. You were admired when you served in the real army, and even as an enemy, you were known to have been a decent and fairly honorable person, despite being a traitor and a rebel. As far as we can tell, you never mistreated a prisoner or committed any act that could be considered a war crime. However, your unit had a very high kill count when it engaged in harassment actions, making you responsible for the deaths of many loyal and decent Alliance patriots. What do you have to say to that?”

“It was war,” Mack said. “In war people try to kill each other. The ones that come out the other side whole usually did a lot of that killing.”

Mack pronounced ‘killing’ without the ‘g’ like an Independent Colony native would.

The man in the shadows shook his head. “You even sound like them,” he said. “Have you no shame? Do you know what your poor choices did to our family? What I had to do to salvage our lives?”

Mack forced back tears. “Good to see you, too, Dad,” she said. “Glad to see you made it through the war in one piece. I’m fine, thanks for askin’, not that you did.”

The Marshal looked at the guards. “Give us the room,” he said.

“But--” the team leader started to say.

The man in the shadows stepped into the light. When he did, everyone could see he was an army Colonel.

“Colonel Jack Shepard,” he said. “Alliance Army Intelligence. Give us the room. Now.”

The guards stiffened. “Yessir!” the team leader barked. He turned to the other guards. “You heard the man! Clear out, RFN!”

The guards all quickly left the room. When they were gone, the Colonel reached back into the corner and pulled out a backpack, various knives, a Shanxi Type 25 pistol and its assorted accoutrements, her clothes, boots, some other gear, and Mack’s Browncoat, with the insignia removed.

Mack looked at her father. “Dad?”

The Marshal spoke up. “You’ve been given a pardon. The Colonel would appreciate it if you left the core, traveled to the outer colonies and returned here only infrequently. He understands that whatever work you find may bring you here, but asks that you make those stays here as brief as possible. You are to steer clear of your family unless invited, and I wouldn’t expect any invitations. You’ll be given ammunition and the magazines for that Shanxi of yours at the door.” The Marshal slid a ticket and boarding pass across the table towards Mack. “This vessel leaves in two hours. When you get to the docks, they’ll be someone waiting for you with an escort contract, some martial arts master and his blind kid heading for the outer colonies. Probably on the run from something, but the pay will help you get started when you get where you’re going.” The Marshal got up and uncuffed Mack. “Again, don’t do anything stupid and screw this up. The Colonel had to pull strings and call in favors to make this happen.”

“And I only did that for your mother’s sake,” Jack Shepard said. “If it were up to me, I’d have seen to it you were executed like the deserter and traitor you are. Leave, Johannah. Leave and don’t come back unless you absolutely have to and if you do, leave again as quickly as possible. You’re no longer welcome here.”

Again Mack fought back tears as she heard her father use her true first name. She’d been going by Mackensie or Mack since she was a teenager. Her father was the only one who still called her Johannah… and now Mack would never hear her father say her name again if the colonel had anything to do with it. She said nothing. Jack Shepard nodded and left the room, followed by the Marshal, who, just before he left the room, turned back to her.

“Get dressed quick, Captain,” the Marshal said. “Not everyone likes the idea of letting you out of here. Get dressed, get out of here, get to the docks, get on that ship, unass this planet, unass the Core, and like the Colonel said, don’t return unless you absolutely have to and if that happens, leave again as quickly as you can. Oh,” he said, almost as an afterthought. He tossed her a card. “Go ahead and wear your weapons. We’ll be escorting you directly to that ship, so you won’t get any trouble for them.”

“You’re not afraid I’m going to kill my escort and make a run for it?”

“Run where?” the Marshal said. “Only place you could go is where we’re sending you. So what would be the point?” And with that, the Marshal was gone.

With no one to see, except for whoever was watching the video feed from the room, Mack let the tears roll down her cheeks. She changed into her real clothes and put on the gear they’d given her. With her blades on her, she was Mack the Knife once more. She got dressed and put her hagibis (a long, straight knife with an 11-inch blade) in her boot, her pakal knife with it’s 5-blade on her left hip behind her back, and put her kambantuli (a short, machete-like knife with a 13-inch blade) on her left side. Her pistol was already in its rig, which she strapped on, the pistol residing in a holster on her right thigh. She looked through her other belongings to make sure they were there. She slipped all of the other odds and ends she liked to have at the ready into compartments in her Browncoat. She was surprised to find a brand new, lightweight ballistic/stab vest in the pile. Apparently the Old Man didn’t want her as dead as he claimed he did. She smiled a sad smile and put on the vest. Finally, she put on her Browncoat, picked up her bag, and left the interrogation room.

Mack dried her eyes and left the room. She wondered what exactly the job was and how much it paid. Hopefully enough to pay for a few meals and a place to stay when she got where she was going until she could find more work.