<div class="floatleft">(http://i608.photobucket.com/albums/tt168/face_down_ass_up/synhead.jpg)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>Character name:</strong></td><td>Syndel</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Location:</strong> </td><td>The landing pad</td></tr><tr><td><strong>With:</strong> </td><td> Harrin and the new arrivals</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Doing:</strong> </td><td> Trying to help with the cargo</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/>Syndel felt someone take hold of her tail, and her metallic gaze narrowed. Then the voice registered. It was the Mrinka, the one in charge. And Syndel noted the other woman's strength as well, as she felt herself pinned against one of the containers. Maybe, if she had been properly nourished, she would have been able to fight back. Or maybe she wouldn't have wanted to. Such thoughts were useless and trivial now, as the reality of her condition left her ill equipped to offer much resistance.<br/><br/>She made no protest as Harrin's hands found her breasts, full and firm beneath the encasing layer of Smartex. Syndel was not especially shy, and the near nudity did not bother her all that much. But she did have to work to keep a flush from her cheeks at being handled in such a fashion.<br/><br/>"The most vicious inmate in town? I can believe that." Again, that dulcet echo of dual tones that made up her voice cut cleanly through the cold wind of the Cooler. "Just how would I manage to stay on your good side?" The warrior in her wanted to fight, but knew too well she would fail. The servant in her blood rose to meet the challenge that the warrior could not.