"Get back in line, gorrammit!"

"And good morning to you too, sir," replied Mal, tired. The cold, gray morning was a poetical end to the stressful night; depressing and unpleasant. The marches to meals were tensely controlled, but a decent way to break up the day. Too bad the guards running this one thought they were controlling deadly criminals.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" asked the guard as Mal made his way the the front of their small line.

"Leading my men, sir." The only way he could think to support the monumentally disheartened lot was to take advantage of the few familiar military rituals that could remind them of a strength they’d once had.

"What part of this don't you understand?" snapped the guard. "You exit and get scanned in alphabetical order, you march in alphabetical order. Got it?"

Mal blinked like an extremely stupid person and started counting names off on his fingers as he wandered up and down the line like a lost puppy, finally inserting himself between Cole and Gruenberg with a happy smile. The other prisoners tried to control their laughter as the aggravated guard grabbed Mal by the sleeve and towed him into place.

"Good boy," sneered the guard, patting him on the shoulder. Mal added him to his would-really-like-to-punch list, and they started the march, through the gates and joining the line of prisoners from the other nearby yards, past Daniels.

Daniels threw up his hand. "March, halt." He spoke to the guard. "I'd like Sergeants and officers to assume leadership of their groups whenever it’s practical." He glanced at Mal, giving him a pleasant nod. "Let's get Sergeant Reynolds to head the march."

Mal stepped out and assumed a position at the head of his line with a wink at the red-faced guard. The fact that Daniels couldn't have been aware of the earlier conflict made it all the sweeter.

They were halfway to the cafeteria when a bright red and black bird landed on a nearby fence, and Mal followed it with his eyes. A baton thumped