CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Cloud would have raised both his eyebrows, if he’d only had eyebrows. As it was, he had to settle for a disbelieving gape. “You…you think I’m a rogue?” he spluttered.
The Slig chuckled darkly. “What else would you be – you’re dusty, dirty, and you have a hard time rememberin’ where yer boss is. That means you gotta be a rogue.”
He clicked back the cock on his pistol. “Now put yer hands on top of yer head.”
Cloud sighed, but he complied. He could see other Sligs drawing similar pistols from holsters all over their bodies, and he instinctively knew getting out of this one would not be easy. Why did they all have to ignore him, when he was in a hurry to get to the capital? If King Glok was killed because he took to long with the warning…
“Hey, look,” he protested, as a Slig came forward with a pair of handcuffs. “I may not be the fastest thinker on Oddworld –”
“If you was a faster thinker,” one fellow growled, “you would’ve stayed outta our town.”
“Yeah,” Cloud growled. “I would have.”
The one with the cuffs clicked them around his wrists. The deserter flinched at the cold feel of the restraining metal; he’d never been convicted of a crime before, except for the occasional “stupidity badge.” Why did his luck have to go against him now?
“You can look at my Info Pad,” he sighed. “I’m Cloud, Designation Worker-Class-Slig-No. 3221.”
The first Slig he had spoken to tipped his head sideways. “Really?”
“Yeah, look me over.”
The one Slig – who seemed to be someone of importance in Bodhran – gave a little wave to the one who had just cuffed Cloud. “Hey, Frizzl, check him over.”
“Right away, Crak.”
Cloud stayed still and patient as Frizzl ran his hands around his body. The search turned up Cloud’s extra pocket comlink, his Info Pad, area scanner, and a fragmentation grenade he had been saving just in case they got into a tight situation.
Crak came walking over, his beady eyes narrowed. “Whatcha find, Frizzl?”
The one who had inspected Cloud was too busy punching commands into the Info Pad to reply, but a moment later he grunted. “Huh…this pad says he really is a soldier.”
“Here, gimme that.” Without waiting for Frizzl to comply, Crak snatched the Info Pad and glared down at the screen. Cloud watched patiently, waiting for the rough Slig leader to finish his examination.
After a minute, Crak powered down the Info Pad and passed it back to Frizzl. “Hmm. Looks as if we have a deserter on our hands.”
Cloud suddenly felt a whole lot worse. “Deserter?” he gasped, pretending to be surprised. He’d forgotten all about the implications of being a deserter in the Slig Army. “Why do you think that?”
Crak indicated the Info Pad. “If you really are a soldier, you’re out here without yer boss, Lord Fragg, an’ there’s no assignments written down in yer pad. A good soldier always writes down his assignments for the record.”
The gruff Slig suddenly brought his pistol back up from wherever he’d been hiding it. “An’, as you know, we don’t like deserters. We shoot ’em.”
Crak smiled. “Frizzl, get together the firin’ squad. Time to teach some o’ the boys a lesson about loyalty to one’s cause.”
Cloud found he couldn’t even swallow, and his throat was too dry to say “Oops…” Instead, he just bowed his head. At least it really wasn’t his fault he had failed King Glok.
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