suppose you can do ’em. So you smuggle slumph-crystals from the Alpha Centauri quadrant and you get caught and you get put in the cruncher. That’s all there is to it. After that—it’s up to them. Your life isn’t your own anymore. What are you in for?”
“I don’t know. I think for being a playboy. Didn’t know it was illegal!”
“Oh yeah! Retroactive laws are a bummer aren’t they,” the man said.
“What’s going to happen to us on Esmerelda?” Rock asked, coming back to the subject of greatest interest to both of them.
“Kid, I’m not exactly sure. If it was some ordinary prison planet we’d been taken to, I’d say it was a so-called medical experiment with us prisoners to be used as material. On Esmerelda, I doubt it. From what I’ve heard, they’re pretty much a no-nonsense group there. Into the work ethic. Period. And lots of rules. Anything that gets done around there, kid, there’s a rule. Know what I mean?”
Rock nodded, though he didn’t, and asked, “Do you think it’s got anything to do with somebody named Zrano? Our being brought to Esmerelda in the first place, I mean.”
Sanders Bylor’s reaction wasn’t measured, like the guard’s. The burly man pulled back as if Rock had developed some contagious disease. His eyes widened in horror and he drew up one large hand as if to fend off an attack.
“Oh my God, no,” he whispered. “They can’t do that to you! They can’t do that to me! Not just for being a smuggler! Heaven help us kid. I’ll pray for you and me, I swear!”
A bell rang. Another door opened. A voice could be heard over a public address system. “This is the captain. If you haven’t opened your door yet, you can now open it.” It was a sexless voice without feeling, a voice that could have belonged to a machine. “You must walk to the right end of the corridor, the end with a purple light over the exit door. You then walk through that door and to the next door and open it.”
Men came out of each door. Six men in all, counting Rock. The men looked awkwardly at each other, nodded. “All in the same boat,” their expressions stated glumly. Sanders broke the silence by smiling. He walked toward the purple sign. They drew apart to give him room. “Don’t any of you men want to have something good happen?” Sanders asked. “Come on! Let’s have fun!”
Rock followed. They all filed into a long hallway that wasn’t as well lighted, but was more comfortable to the eyes than the harsh light of their corridor. He could hear murmurs and grunts back of him, and realized that the remaining prisoners were walking more slowly, discussing something under their breaths.
Rock and Sanders came to another slide-up door. Sanders put a thumb just above the door lock and it drew up. Rock’s mouth opened in astonishment at what the slowly opening door revealed: a set up for a party. Balloons on the ceiling, red and blue. A bunting-decorated banquet room containing a long table with three chairs on each side. On a dais was another table, this one with three chairs. In front of each place setting at the lower table was a dish with food that fairly steamed, and enticing smells rose in waves of seductive warmth.
Food! When was the last time he ate! Rock hadn’t eaten a good meal since before he slept with Kimetta on Venus; this was like finding gold in a tar pit. The other prisoners behind him let out deep breaths.
“You think they’d bring us this far so they could poison us?” one skinny prisoner asked suspiciously. “This looks too good!”
And then came Sanders Bylor’s harsh voice: “No, it’ll be a whole lot worse than that, guys, when they get around to finishing us off. This is the good part, to make the bad part that much worse!”
Rock was already on his way to a place setting to the right. He forked up some meat. At his taste of the first mouthful, he smiled. “Pot roast—or synth-roast at least! I think I’m going to enjoy being on this
“I don’t know. I think for being a playboy. Didn’t know it was illegal!”
“Oh yeah! Retroactive laws are a bummer aren’t they,” the man said.
“What’s going to happen to us on Esmerelda?” Rock asked, coming back to the subject of greatest interest to both of them.
“Kid, I’m not exactly sure. If it was some ordinary prison planet we’d been taken to, I’d say it was a so-called medical experiment with us prisoners to be used as material. On Esmerelda, I doubt it. From what I’ve heard, they’re pretty much a no-nonsense group there. Into the work ethic. Period. And lots of rules. Anything that gets done around there, kid, there’s a rule. Know what I mean?”
Rock nodded, though he didn’t, and asked, “Do you think it’s got anything to do with somebody named Zrano? Our being brought to Esmerelda in the first place, I mean.”
Sanders Bylor’s reaction wasn’t measured, like the guard’s. The burly man pulled back as if Rock had developed some contagious disease. His eyes widened in horror and he drew up one large hand as if to fend off an attack.
“Oh my God, no,” he whispered. “They can’t do that to you! They can’t do that to me! Not just for being a smuggler! Heaven help us kid. I’ll pray for you and me, I swear!”
A bell rang. Another door opened. A voice could be heard over a public address system. “This is the captain. If you haven’t opened your door yet, you can now open it.” It was a sexless voice without feeling, a voice that could have belonged to a machine. “You must walk to the right end of the corridor, the end with a purple light over the exit door. You then walk through that door and to the next door and open it.”
Men came out of each door. Six men in all, counting Rock. The men looked awkwardly at each other, nodded. “All in the same boat,” their expressions stated glumly. Sanders broke the silence by smiling. He walked toward the purple sign. They drew apart to give him room. “Don’t any of you men want to have something good happen?” Sanders asked. “Come on! Let’s have fun!”
Rock followed. They all filed into a long hallway that wasn’t as well lighted, but was more comfortable to the eyes than the harsh light of their corridor. He could hear murmurs and grunts back of him, and realized that the remaining prisoners were walking more slowly, discussing something under their breaths.
Rock and Sanders came to another slide-up door. Sanders put a thumb just above the door lock and it drew up. Rock’s mouth opened in astonishment at what the slowly opening door revealed: a set up for a party. Balloons on the ceiling, red and blue. A bunting-decorated banquet room containing a long table with three chairs on each side. On a dais was another table, this one with three chairs. In front of each place setting at the lower table was a dish with food that fairly steamed, and enticing smells rose in waves of seductive warmth.
Food! When was the last time he ate! Rock hadn’t eaten a good meal since before he slept with Kimetta on Venus; this was like finding gold in a tar pit. The other prisoners behind him let out deep breaths.
“You think they’d bring us this far so they could poison us?” one skinny prisoner asked suspiciously. “This looks too good!”
And then came Sanders Bylor’s harsh voice: “No, it’ll be a whole lot worse than that, guys, when they get around to finishing us off. This is the good part, to make the bad part that much worse!”
Rock was already on his way to a place setting to the right. He forked up some meat. At his taste of the first mouthful, he smiled. “Pot roast—or synth-roast at least! I think I’m going to enjoy being on this
Similar Books
