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| - “I can’t believe you authorized that transfer!” Dr. Gawynn Karastee paced before Administrator Verloff’s desk, her arms crossed. “You know how the other bounties behave! Every day I hear about Zuckuss getting into a fight with a bounty, did you think that Pepan’s transfer would be any different?” Verloff merely interlaced his fingers and regarded Dr. Karastee with a level gaze. “Please, Doctor... Sit down and calm yourself.” He waited until she obeyed before continuing. “You know that A-3 was overcrowded. The staff there is not trained to care for inmates with more severe mental disturbances, either.” He sighed. “Dr. Karastee, as head of therapy, you are the only one who can deal with these inmates, but you only work E-7. Pepan needed to be transferred so you could begin working with him.” A shiver crawled up Karastee’s spine. Working with the criminally insane was nothing new for her, she had been looking madness in the face for years. She had worked with patients who believed that they had tiny exogorths living in their ears that drove them to crime. She had worked with a man whose schizophrenia manifested as the voices of gods who gave him orders. The orders had led the man to kill three other people. Karastee had seen inmates with multiple personalities, bizarre delusions, uncontrollable compulsions, everything. Many of these inmates were violent. However, Karastee could still sleep at night and be ready for a day’s worth of therapy sessions the very next day with Bedlam’s sickest minds and not bat an eyelash at any semblance of fear. Pepan Manja, however, scared her. Indicted on nine charges of homicide, Pepan was like many of the other incarcerated serial killers. It was his psychosis, though, that set him apart. That, along with the simple fact that he had eaten his victims—that just did not sit right with Karastee. She had read the Kubaz’s journal and had gotten a glimpse into his mind. But, to actually be in the same room with him, to speak with him and truly see what lays behind his calm and intent stare, to find out just exactly how he could justify his actions is what sent Karastee’s stomach twisting into a knot. Pepan Manja scared her, though she was not about to let Administrator Verloff know. “Who was Pepan seeing in A-3,” Karastee looked to Verloff, “if he was seeing anyone?” “Dr. Niederer worked with him a few times. The records have been sent to you.” Verloff nodded to the datapad. “As Caz’rak had mentioned, A-3 has a few insectoid inmates and there were no incidents there. Pepan shouldn’t be any trouble in your cell block. You only have one insectoid there if I recall.” “You don’t understand,” Karastee shook her head. “Pepan is one of Zuckuss’s bounties and Zuckuss is in E-7. You already know about how the other bounties reacted.” She paused, shaking her head and rifling through her shoulder bag. “A few weeks ago, something was brought to my attention...” Finding the journal, she tossed it square on Verloff’s desk. “The page is marked.” Verloff opened the book and glanced at the entry for a very brief moment. “Ah, yes... The alleged hit...” He closed the book and handed it back to Karastee. “As you can tell, the journal was confiscated. Pepan’s cell was searched and he was placed in solitary for a time.” “You knew about it and you still transferred him?!” Karastee found herself on her feet, yelling. “I need to protect my clients, too, Mr. Verloff! If over-crowding was a concern, couldn’t you have transferred a different inmate? I swear, the way this place operates makes no sense!” “Doctor, please sit down,” Verloff remained calm. “I’ve already told you that E-7 is the only cell block staffed to handle inmates like Pepan.” “He put out a hit on Zuckuss and you transferred him to the same cell block!” “Calm yourself,” Verloff’s gaze remained steady. “The journal was confiscated and Pepan was disciplined. Prisoners put out hits on each other all the time, yet my officers catch them early enough. We have not had a death here for a long time.” Karastee averted her eyes. “You don’t know the inmates...” “And neither do you.” Verloff’s voice was stern. “Dr. Karastee, you see your clients—what?—once a week? At most? And even then, you only see certain inmates. You don’t see the others. You don’t see their behavior. The inmates, for the most part, are well-controlled.” Karastee gathered her shoulder bag and stood. “I still know them better than you.” Turning on her heel, she walked swiftly out of the office and down the hall. The nerve of that man! Just another high-priced suit. Administrator Verloff did not have the slightest notion on how the inmates behave. Sequestered in his office, he spends all day filing flimsi-work, speaking to judges, and ordering the wardens around. That old fool never sees the inmates, he never speaks with them, he never gets to witness the thought processes first hand. The fights, the gang social mentality, the threats against other inmates, all hearsay to Verloff. He is too concerned with maintaining a level of order and businesslike atmosphere to impress the Department of Corrections. He has no concern for the inmates. Karastee paused in her travels to peer into the mental observation unit. Immediately she noticed the prisoners grouped together in various well-defined gangs. Humans hung out with other humans in one corner, a group of tattooed Rodians in another, several Weequay standing around a table on the far side of the room, and a small assortment of prisoners by the stairs. As Karastee’s eyes moved over the inmates, she recognized several of her clients, and Pepan Manja, standing silently beside his cell, staring intently at the group by the stairs. Karastee followed Pepan’s gaze, studying the group, seeing Zuckuss conversing with another inmate, his back to the Kubaz. The cold feeling returned to Karastee’s stomach, seeing the hunger in Pepan’s eyes. It did not matter that the corrections officers confiscated his journal. The staff was utterly oblivious to the danger. Karastee’s gaze returned to Zuckuss. Be careful...
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