He saw that Usk shunned the human slop. But he also noticed the corpse was missing pieces in various places. A torn out liver here, a dissected eye there. He remembered once seeing Usk with a smear of blood on his navel where the intravenous tube attached. A grisly shudder shook his gaunt frame.
A horrible radio jingle was driving Miko slowly mad. It blared over the speaker, shielded by wire caging from the ceiling. For hours on end the music would infect their brains, trumping the low, generator-like hum, doubtless some cruel form of torture engineered by B & D. What was worse, the grubby inmates, the ones least sane, would pick up the tune in their godawful voices, singing off-key. Miko would cover his ears. Fenli snapped his fingers to the rhythm, juiced up on crystal. Sket looked off into space, resigned.
Miko set to circling the perimeter of his cage, exploring every nook and cranny. But no easy escape availed itself. He should have passed through the wall when he had the chance! Curse his stupidity. Just when he needed his invisibility skills, they had deserted him. His thoughts strayed to Star and the Jakru woman...
* * *
On the fourth day, the cell door routinely clanked open and the slouching, haggard men looked up, casting sullen glares in the murk.
Gruel time again? Miko rolled over from his fitful sleep by the wall.
The lead guard from the first day stood scowling down at them. Sniffing the air, he wrinkled his nose. With a brisk motion, he had the place searched. His eight men filing in with rifles and air blasters, billy clubs at their hip, muttered obscenities and jostled convicts out of the way. Some trained weapons on Sket who hovered a little too closely, his fingers twitching for something to hurl. They dragged the corpse out of the lavatory, now bloated with maggots and buzzing with flies. The lead guard shook his head and clicked his tongue.
“Quite a mess.” He gave a smiling grimace. “You boys have been up to no good.”
Sket hissed. “Child’s play, Jingin. Wait’ll you see our next surprise. Goon squad here to torture us again?”
“Always a mouthy one, aren’t you Sket? A boor—well, we’ll see what this next trial brings you. Out with the whole lot of you reeking animals. B & D’s summoned you.”
The guards swarmed around them, eager to get in a few sneak punches.
A man with yellow rags of hair next to Sket twisted free from a loose grip. Before Sket could catch him, the man jerked forward, snarling, long-clawed nails outstretched to slash the nearest jailer.
An air gun lifted and a bright red dot blossomed on the convict’s forehead. He fell like an ox, crimson staining the rank floor.
“Any other complaints?” the rifleman grunted. He looked about cheerfully. “No heroes? I thought not.” They left the still-warm corpse lying there, bleeding on the floor. “A mess for the next crew to clean up,” he laughed.
The guards prodded the prisoners out with rifle ends and billy-clubs in their backs. Miko hesitated at the door. An ominous feeling welled in his gut as to their destination. A club with a blue stone on the end found his back, delivering a mild sting that travelled through his nerves like an electric shock. “Move along,” came the man’s hiss.
Miko growled, flung out an arm.
“No lip. Move, scum! We’ve got our eyes on you.”
Fenli leered. “Why, sailor, you cruising for a piece of ass?”
Miko bridled as a fist slammed down on the cargo man’s mouth.
Fenli giggled maniacally, as his head snapped back. He’d been sucking up on crystal over the last days from a secret stash he had stuffed under the sole of his right shoe. “Is that the only love tap I get?” Wiping the blood and snot from his bleeding lips, he looked up through the crimson mess of his face and grinned like a Halloween pumpkin.
Miko sucked in a breath. He stumbled on. He could do nothing to help Fenli. The dim lighting made navigation difficult. Stray lamps dangled on cords, flickering. Others were long dead. The corridor snaked on, pipes weaved everywhere, wire-clamped to the walls. Miko thought they looked jerry-rigged, cemented with homespun caulking. It was as if they walked upon unfinished service tunnels whose builders were planning some underground settlement. The corridors were unfamiliar to him, indeed, a different route than four days ago, which seemed an aeon ago.
He squinted as the light grew, and the hanging lamps increased in numbers. Fenli weaved on wobbly legs, clipping his skull on protruding pipes in his daze. Usk was hustled along, prodded by jeering jailors, sometimes falling on all fours. Miko protested while the other prisoners stumbled at his heels like whipped curs. The situation was going to blow. When it did... Miko hoped the savage clash would have enough oomph for them to escape these cocky brutes.
They came out into a large, low-domed chamber, the ceiling cut from pure rock—some type of sandstone and conglomerate. An assembly of sixty or more thugs cavorted around a crudely-dug pit in anticipation. Most were dressed in rags and leathers. Some were shod with scuffed boots, while others roved bare-footed. Many were bald, exposed skin completely hairless, all enraptured by the feral sport in the pit below. Defects reigned amongst these individuals: eyes missing, heads stretched too long or flattened too thin, fingers too many or not enough. Some were dwarfs, muttering and chattering in unintelligible voices, while others stood excessively tall.
A few wore dread-locks coiled up in complex knots. Dirty fingernails gripped small coins or gambling pieces; others clutched daggers. While grimy faces
