[Splat]

Just finished it. I get tommorow off school and I'm going away to a holiday camp for the weekend . And I have a ton of homework that I'm never gonna get done, ever, as long as I'm still in fulltime education...

Ah well, I'll just get on with it shall I? I was in a good mood when I wrote this, as you may notice. I suppose it's not really suitable for what's going on but what can I do? It makes me look less morbid. I'm off again, sorry. Here ya go, chapter whatever-number-we're-on-now...


Chapter 5, Crime and Punishment
Graham couldn’t remember a longer night. Back aching, arm numb from lack of circulation. Legs tangled with branches, getting bent and scraped painfully every time he tried to relax the burning muscles, twigs scraping at his eyes, feathers tangled in the branches and tugging uncomfortably at his scalp every time he moved his head. It was like torture. It was torture! Graham was paying for his overconfidence and wasn’t sure he was getting a fair deal. Still it could have been worse, he thought bitterly, they haven’t found me.
Still, morning came eventually, has mornings often do, and soon the grunting and snorting noises related to 4 or 5 sligs trying to pack tents into tiny sacks was echoing around the clearing. They ate a hurried breakfast and were getting ready to leave.
"Hang on," One said suddenly as they were getting ready.
"Oh, what is it now?"
"We’re running low on food. We might be able to get another couple of days out here if we can hunt some stuff: extra pay right there! I wanna see if I can find that animal that terrified Bezin in the night."
"Shut up!"
"Aw, nasty Menick, don’t be howwibew to poor littew Bezin agen?"
"Shut up tw@t!" One of the sligs punched another and they began to fight. Graham prayed they’d forget about him. But Odd hadn’t answered his prayers all night and this morning wasn’t looking to be an exception.
"Cut it out you two." Muttered one of them and he began beating through the undergrowth, very close to Graham’s bush.
Please, please don’t let them find me!
Light suddenly streamed down over his tortured body, "Well, well, what do we have here?"
You’re pushin me Odd!
"What is it Menick?"
"Looks like we got ourselves an escapee." And addressing Graham, "Get up Mud!"
Graham pushed himself onto his aching feet, thinking every curse and profanity that cared to pass through his mind.
"Where’ve you come from mud? Been no escapees round here lately, have there, guys."
"Don’t be an idiot Menick, look at the scars on his lips. The strings on his mouth have been out ages; he’s not a recent one."
"So where’s he from? He’s not one of the natives is he? And he’s too old to be Barah’s isn’t he. There aren’t any others out here we know about."
"Maybe he’s from Glucose?" Suggested one.
"Most intelligent thing you’ve said in years Tror."
Odd, at least tell me they don’t know about the Orb.
"Yeah, wasn’t there a runaway up above Gopemi about 20 years ago?"
"Herra, get a life."
"You from Glucose, Mud?" Menick barked. Graham kept his mouth firmly closed, trying to think up a good comment about originating from Mudos.
"Oh forget the talk, lets just search him and get out of here. 3 days off for bagging a prisoner."
"Fine," Menick muttered and grabbed Graham by the shoulders and spun him round. "Bezin, do the honours."
"Why do I have to?"
"Cause I found him and I said so."
"You wouldn’t have found him at all if it wasn’t for-"
"If it wasn’t for you bein a wimp. Just strip `im and shut up."
Grumbling to himself, Bezin bent down low. "You fart Mud, and I’ll fill your backside so full of lead you’ll leave pencil marks whenever you sit down." Tenderly, the slig undid Graham’s loincloth. As it fell away several packets of food fell from it, and then:
"Well, well, well. What `av we here? Got yourself a pretty little toy ain’t ya Mud?"
"Whoa," One of the others muttered, moving forward and taking the warm, metallic green ball off Bezin.
Oh, Odd, please no!
"What dyo think this is?" He was holding the Orb up to the sunlight. Graham started breathing again, wishing the bl00dy thing would just explode and fry them all.
"A pay-rise, that’s what it is," Menick said, throwing Graham back into his bush, and grabbing it, "What dya reckon we could get for something like this? Might even get a promotion if it’s worth a bit. No more patrols, wouldn’t mind that loss, would we guys?"
Someone grabbed Graham by his aching shoulder, yanked him to his aching feet and threw his loincloth at his face. "Stick it back on Mud, and we’ll get goin. Reckon we can afford to have a bit of fun when we get back."
Graham pulled his loincloth off his face and stared down the barrel of a gun. The slig was lighting up; he could just knock the gun aside and run…
But the Orb. They’d gone through so much to get it. What would his master have to say to him if he left it in the hands of the sligs? Dammit, why did this have to happen to him? Feeling more like a fool than ever, he fastened his loincloth round his waist and stepped out of the bushes. 5 minutes later a gun barrel was being dug into his spine as he walked quicker than his burning muscles would have liked through the forest surrounded by a convoy of over-exited sligs.
So this was the glamorous life of a rebel? Graham found himself thinking lustfully of 20 years ago in his nice, iron barred cell back in Glucose, which (he numbly noted) was completely devoid of bushes. And that bl00dy, bl00dy Orb.


I'm away from the weekend but I should be back by Monday or Sunday night. Feedback is welcome as always.