An armed checkpoint appeared, reinforced with steel girders. Three guards with bandanas draped around their heads and long air rifles trained at their sides, stood at attention. They passed them through when Teebla flashed his ID, a small oval chip, green and glowing.
“Three points to the landing. B & D’s holiday retreat,” announced one guard crisply. The guard’s rifle was angled toward the driver’s head.
The car jolted ahead down a wide corridor.
Teebla sighed, turning to Ribshot. “I hate having to face B & D down, but there’s no way around it.”
Ribshot gave a brief grunt. He elbowed Miko in the ribs, whom he still resented for the stunt at the gambling tables. Miko took the jab, knowing there was little he could do against superior numbers with his arms bound. At some time, payback would be forthcoming.
The car came to a jarring halt.
“Out!” Ribshot growled. He viciously shoved Miko onto the ground. The journey had lasted no more than an hour.
Star and Usk were thrust out next, crawling like ants on their hands and knees. Miko sucked in a breath. His cramped limbs ached and the cut on his left forearm throbbed fiercely from the fight at the casino. The air was thinner here; every breath seemed a labour.
The men opened the trunk and dragged out the tank containing the Jakru woman.
“Move!” called Teebla, gesturing to Fenli.
The four were prodded like cattle down a dank corridor into the dim, artificial light. Teebla brought up the rear, frowning and pulling at his chin.
Miko saw tangles of silver wires and piping running along the ceiling. The place was like a rat’s maze. Corridors streamed off every which way. Soon they arrived at a high wall with an iron-studded door. A single camera loomed over the door like a glaring, cyclopean eye.
Teebla hesitated before pushing his prisoners aside and banging a fist on a grimy red button on the wall by the door.
Static crackles burst from the speaker near the camera. A voice garbled words over the speaker. “Can it be Teebla?”
“None other.”
“I see you are doing well,” the voice spoke, “and making efforts to repay your debts. I was about to send out a scout to remind you of your loan.”
“No need.” Teebla looked up into the spy camera with fatalistic inquiry.
“Have you brought collateral?”
“I have. You can see for yourself.”
“Very well, put the charges in sight so I can examine them. I am indisposed at the moment, so can’t come to meet you personally.” A languorous moan crackled over the com. Whether female or male was up for conjecture.
Teebla winced. Impatiently, he motioned to Ribshot, who obediently escorted Miko and the others to the place before the camera. Miko shook off Ribshot’s hand. Fenli snarled a curse. Star tensed, her back unnaturally rigid, shaking off the rude hands that fondled her ass as she was pulled along. Usk struggled in his bonds while Miko pushed forward to try to comfort her.
The voice sounded over the com. “The crab is an interesting addition. They’ll do. The next freedom race is scheduled in twelve days,” the warbly voice intoned, deeply baritone.
“Race?” Teebla muttered.
“In my theatre of thrills. These persons, in the meantime, will do well in my cellars. At least the males, to cool their heels. The women, well... that’s another thing.”
With a grating creak, the door jerked open, gushing a stale hiss of air. Wrinkling his nose, Miko was appalled to see eight ragged men with fur-flapped helms, mangy beards and tattoos on their bare forearms who laid rough-callused hands on them and pushed them inside a dimly-lit foyer. The hall was colonnaded with crude rock pillars. A small rectangular pool rippled in its centre, catching water that dripped from the ceiling.
Star and the woman in the tank were shuttled down a side corridor to Miko’s dismay.
“Hey, you can’t—” But his objection received short shrift. He was buffeted to the side.
Teebla frowned. “This is where we part ways, gentlemen. Adieu, and I wish you the best of luck.”
Miko growled, “You son of a bitch—” but his voice crackling with a lusty curse, was lost in the darkness. B & D, or whatever he was, likely made his headquarters deep in this cursed ridge stretching like a lizard’s tail across the desert and the lakeshore.
Fenli laughed and saluted Teebla’s sarcasm. “Aye, gambler, you know where to find us should you wish to get trounced again at Sea Battles.”
The echo of Teebla’s bleak laugh was the last thing they heard before the door clanked shut with a metallic thud. They blinked in the gloom that spread before them.
* * *
The smell of faeces, sweat and unwashed bodies hit Miko’s nostrils as he was tossed onto a dirty cellar floor. He uncoiled his six-foot frame into a crouch, arm raised to block blows. Usk and Fenli lay sprawled beside him in untidy heaps. They looked up into the unfriendly faces of a dozen flea-bitten prisoners, identifiably human.
“Enjoy your new environment, gentlemen,” grunted the leader of the detention squad. He ducked back with a chuckle, waving his air pistol. His silver helmet gleamed under the dim, flickering bulbs. The door clanked shut and the locks turned. They were left blinking in the reeking confines. Miko glimpsed more of the strange pipes snaking overhead—diagonally across the ceiling and trailing down the walls of this dingy, square room. The hiss of escaping gas echoed from somewhere in the corners. Was it recycled air that they could breathe?
The echo of the closing door had barely faded when six of the inmates swarmed them. Two muscled brutes
