Hurrah!
*intones in narrator-style voice* And in celebration, she posts some more...
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Once Lar had left them in the little cell that was to become home for the next few days, he headed off out of the prison complex, and up to the Management Suite some way upstairs… It was actually quite a pleasant place - visually, at least – with carpets, windows, heating, proper lighting, even the occasional pot-plant dotted about… He nodded a greeting to the slig pair on patrol, strode up to a door and gave it a smart rap with his knuckles.
“Who’s there?” a half-asleep voice filtered through the thin wood.
“Jus’ me, Boss…”
“Oh, Lar… C’min. I wasn’t expectin’ visitors this evenin’, so you’ll have to excuse the mess…”
Lar put his nose round the door, and smiled, grimly; the ‘mess’ was an empty coffee container, a few loose sheets of paper and a spilt packet of paper-clips. Keff was usually scrupulously tidy, though, so Lar guessed what counted as hyper-tidy for the average slig would be a horrendous mess for the young Glukkon… “I, uh… can I ask yer a favour, Boss?”
Keff turned from his computer. “What sort of favour?” he asked, warily. “Last favour nearly got me in the elum-dung with Parink…”
“Eh, well…” Lar scratched his muzzle, awkwardly. “We caught a couple of prisoners yesterday, an… y’see… they’re both really younguns, I don’ see how its f-”
“Wait, wait, stop.” Keff waved a handfoot and wobbled, precariously; his clothing wasn’t as restrictive as they wore in the upper echelons of management, but it was still awkward. “Before you go any further, I can’t get no-more kids out of here. They’re watchin’ me like damn hawks, upstairs; one wrong move, an’…” He drew a finger across his throat, only just managing to keep his balance.
“But Boss, I said I’d-”
“Lar-”
“One’s a lass, as well!”
That brought Keff up short. “A female?”
Lar nodded. “An’ yer know what’ll happen to her…”
“Damn,” Keff sank back into his chair. “Yes, I know… damn. How many people you told?”
“I ain’t tol’ no-one, but the lads probably spread it right across barracks by now. An’ I think Yax an’ a few others Downstairs got it figured – they hadn’t gone out when we got down there…” Lar bit his lip, and blurted out; “Yer can’t jus’ let ‘em treat her like the last one what they found, Boss! Y’know what happened, it took ‘em two months to do it but they ended up killin’ her-”
“I know what happened…” Keff cut in, sharply. “Look, I can’t do nothin’ right now, so…” he sighed, and shook his head. “I reckon you just like causin’ me problems…” he muttered, annoyedly. “Well go on, clear off, I’ll see what I can sort out…”
Knowing when not to push his luck, Lar bobbed his head once, mumbled a reluctant thanks, and vanished out.
The cell Lar had left Jan and Aura in was sparse and dank… The cuffs they still wore had been clipped to stout lengths of chain firmly attached to the walls, one at each end of the room. They both had enough length on the chain to move around in their new, albeit temporary home, but Aura had retreated right into the far corner, under the lowest bunk, and Jan couldn’t get close enough to see how she was – other than scared out of her wits and crying…
Not a lot happened, that evening; a prisoner – Jan could tell by the start tattoo on his upper arm – was marched past by two of the Arena staff, both in that smart silver and black livery, rifles with gleaming rapier blades in their hands. The prisoner – a glukkon, strangely – stared into the cell as they marched him past; Jan wondered, absently, what he’d done to deserve that sort of punishment…
Closer to morning, a young male slig in Arena livery poked his nose between their cell bars and informed them, dispassionately, that they’d be assessed for usefulness in the morning, and if either of them resisted or caused problems they’d be shot. Jan guessed it was a bluff, as they wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble of catching them just to kill them, but still…
A nervous, middle-aged mudokon brought their breakfast shortly after the night-lighting turned off, the sullen red glow being replaced by a dirty white light. Aura was still crying softly to herself; Jan had tried getting some sleep, but although she was obviously trying to cry quietly so he wouldn’t know how scared she was, it was pretty clear she was very upset… He wondered, absently, if she knew something he didn’t, and whether he’d be in a comparable state if he knew it as well…
“Uh… Aura…?” he scooted closer, as far as the thin cuff at his ankle would let him go.
“What?” the reply was muffled; she was on her bunk, now, but had her head tucked down, curled up into the smallest ball she could manage, back to him.
“Are you all right…?”
“Apart from being scared out of my wits? Yeah, I suppose so,” she replied, bitterly.
“You could try cheering up a little… Lar said he’d try get us out of this mess, and I mean, we’re both in the same boat, but you… you’re acting like the world’s about to end!”
“Don’t you patronise me, fish-head…” she spat, briefly shooting him an ugly glower over her shoulder. “You’re all right. You’re male, the worst they can make you do is fight…” she convulsed herself into a tighter ball and wouldn’t be drawn further.
“Oh right, so it doesn’t matter that I’ll probably get killed now, then? At least they won’t try to kill you!” he retorted, indignantly. “What’s worse than being made to fight for your life in front of a paying audience who all want to see as much blood and gore as possible…?”
She managed to reply in a broken shred of a voice. “Being used as payment.”
It took him a second or two to work out what she meant, and found he didn’t have a reply for it…
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(Now I better hide from Mal...)
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